My husband and I met in Nepal, where he was a Marine Security Guard at the embassy in Kathmandu and I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in a village far from the capital. Today, nearly 16 years (12 married) and four beautiful children later, I'm still taken aback when I think that some people once considered our marriage and children an abomination...and that some still might.
Despite our different races (he is Vietnamese and I am white) we actually have similar backgrounds. We both come from large, loving, Catholic families. Some of his experiences, including that of a war refugee, help put things into perspective for me when I feel we've got it rough.
And the reality of what life might not have been if not for the Lovings adds another layer of perspective. He is he, I am I, we are we; how could race possibly matter?