What My Intercultural Relationship Taught Me About Love, Family, and Identity

Written by Michelle Djong

When I was 16, I told my Indonesian parents I had a date. Their response? Cautious curiosity… and a little concern.

Now, ten years later, I’m still with the same partner. I’m 26, he’s almost 30, and we’re thriving. My parents love him. He loves them. But it didn’t start this way.

What began as an innocent teenage love story eventually turned into a journey of cultural negotiation—between my partner and my family, between the Dutch and Indonesian ways of loving, and most importantly, between who I was raised to be and who I was becoming.

If you’re a woman+ in an intercultural relationship, I hope my story reminds you that harmony is possible. And that building your own bridge—between two worlds—can be one of the most meaningful things you’ll ever do.

⚠️ A gentle note: This is my experience. Every woman+, every family, and every culture is unique. My hope is simply to offer insight, comfort, and a reminder that you’re not alone.

The Three Worlds I Lived In

Growing up in the Netherlands with Indonesian parents meant I was constantly navigating three different worlds. There was the world of my parents—rooted in tradition and quiet respect. In this world, love isn’t loud. It’s not shown through PDA or big declarations. It’s expressed in action: a warm meal after work, a quiet lift in the rain, fixing something before anyone notices it’s broken. Dating, in their eyes, wasn’t forbidden—but it was serious. Not a phase, but a path toward marriage. Then there was the world of my Dutch peers—where dating at 16 was common, sleepovers were casual, and open communication about love, sex, and personal needs was encouraged. It wasn’t better or worse. Just louder. Freer.

And finally, there was my world—the in-between. Where I tried to honor my family’s values without losing my voice. Where I hoped love could exist in the middle, not at one end. So when I told my parents I had a date at 16, their reaction was measured. They weren’t angry—but they were protective. They weren’t against love—but they were worried I might drift too far from the values they’d worked so hard to pass down. The truth is, I was changing. Not because of the boy—but because I was growing.

What Builds Trust (and What Doesn't)

My parents didn’t immediately embrace my partner. Especially my dad, whose protectiveness came from experience, not coldness. But what earned their trust over time wasn’t talk. It was action. He listened. He showed up. He never made me choose between him and my culture. They saw that I was happy. And for many parents, that’s where acceptance begins.

There was another, deeper shift happening too—around communication. In many Asian households, love is shown through action. My partner had to learn this. If something broke at home, my dad fixed it without anyone asking. If my dad came home from work exhausted, my mom would quietly have his meal ready. If it rained, my dad would wordlessly drive us to work or school. Love wasn’t something we said—it was something we did.

My partner picked up on this naturally. He’s a man of action. Yes, he tells me he loves me, but more importantly, he shows it. That helped bridge the space between cultures. Because sometimes love doesn’t need to be said. Sometimes, love shows up at your front door holding an umbrella.

When the Bridge Became Real: Indonesia, 2017

In 2017, we visited Indonesia together. It was his first time—his first real step into my world, not just the version I carried with me in the Netherlands. The food was unfamiliar. The heat intense. The customs unspoken. But he leaned in. He ate with his hands. He complimented the food—even when it was spicier than anything he’d ever tasted. He sat on the floor with the family. He learned to say terima kasih (thank you) and apa kabar? (how are you?) with warmth—even if his pronunciation made everyone laugh.

Not everything was intuitive—and that’s okay. In Dutch culture, calling older people by their first name is completely normal. But in my Peranakan Indonesian heritage, that’s considered disrespectful. We use respectful family terms like Tante (auntie) for most older women+, and names like Kuma, Iih, or Aih—honorifics used before someone’s name to show respect to elder female relatives.

Before we even left for Indonesia, I had a gentle conversation with him. “Hey,” I said, “when in Indonesia don’t use my mom’s first name. It’s considered rude there. Just call her ‘Mama,’ like I do.”

It wasn’t criticism—it was a lesson in care. And as always, he took it with humility and grace. He didn’t argue or question it. He just nodded and remembered. Because for him, learning my culture wasn’t a checklist. It was an act of love.

My parents—having lived in the Netherlands for so long— and gave him the freedom to call them by their first names. It was their way of meeting him halfway. They knew he was raised differently. and they had to adapt to the Dutch culture as well. And they chose acceptance over formality.

That kind of mutual respect—on both sides—is what made everything work. No one was expected to be perfect—only open.

You Can Be the Bridge—Without Losing Yourself

Being in an intercultural relationship means being fluent in emotional translation. But you’re not just the translator. You are the bridge. And building a bridge is hard work. I had to stop blaming my parents for their expectations. I had to stop resenting the discomfort of being “in between.” I had to get clear on what mattered to me—and lead from that place.

It’s not about choosing one culture over the other. It’s about defining what you carry forward—and what you leave behind. I didn’t want a relationship that rejected tradition, nor one that silenced my autonomy. I wanted a love that could hold all of me. And slowly, we created that together.

Love Doesn’t Mean Letting Go of Your Culture

Loving someone outside your culture doesn’t mean abandoning your roots. It means bringing them with you—and inviting someone else in. Instead of asking my parents to accept him, I showed them how he accepted me: my values, my family, my language, my in-between.

If I had to describe it in one image? I’m a sunflower growing among roses. My roots are Indonesian—proud, deep, and unwavering. But I’ve learned to bloom in new surroundings. And I honor the roses, just as they’ve come to honor me.

For the Woman+ in Between

If you're a woman+ building love across cultures, here’s what I want you to know:

You don’t have to give up your heritage to be in a relationship. You don’t have to carry the weight of keeping the peace alone. And you don’t have to disappear in the middle.

There is a way to live between worlds without losing yourself. It’s not always easy—but it’s possible. Here’s what helped me:

• Know your values. Get clear on what matters to you before you ask someone else to understand it.

• Explain your culture early—and kindly. Don’t wait for conflict to educate. Let love be a learning ground.

• Make room for mistakes. You’ll both get things wrong. What matters is how you move forward.

• Trust that parents can evolve. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes unexpectedly. But they can.

• And never shrink yourself. You are not too much. You are not too different. You are whole.

  
  

👉 Want to connect with other women+ navigating relationships, identity, and cultural bridges? Join us at umaversity.com/join. You are not alone in the in-between. You are home here.

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Michelle Djong

Social media manager & DJ