Written by Katrina Mirpuri

Despite it being 2021, interracial dating still comes with its battles. As a British-Indian woman who grew up in a densely South Asian area of ​​London, I wasn't used to seeing many interracial couples. The mere thought of a Muslim dating a Hindu was enough to stir up a riot, and I found myself confused about who I was allowed to be attracted to.

Many people in my community still disapprove of the idea of ​​dating a different race, and it can be particularly hard to pursue love without the support of family. Factors such as religion, colonialism, and cultural values ​​play a huge role in this, but ultimately there is no excuse for discrimination.

Three years ago I introduced my white, Welsh partner to my wider South Asian family at a family gathering. People I hadn't seen in years attended just to see if the rumors were true, and an Aunty (who isn't really my aunt) looked me dead in the eye and told me “I know your mother would prefer you to be with to Indian boy ”. My boyfriend was standing in the room at the time, eyes glazed over with rage. First of all, it wasn't true, and second of all, why was she saying this? Was I destined for my own desi version of Romeo and Juliet?

I felt like the odd one out, and it was confusing

I navigated my way through my teens with an overhanging cloud of confusion. My mother raised me to be a proud, confident person, and she supported my dream to pursue music journalism. I had red hair, piercings and wore Doc Martens with every outfit I could. In my community, I was the odd one out.

I switched between drinking beer with skinny white boys in grotty music venues to dressing up in Indian clothes to attend Diwali parties (still with the remnants of glitter and mascara clinging to my skin from crazy escapades). I was living the double life of Jess from Bend It Like Beckham, but with music instead of a football.

My bedroom walls were filled with posters of rockstars with guitars slung around their necks, and I'd acquired a dangerous liking for the Gallagher brothers and Alex Turner. I dreamed of nothing more than dating a boy in a band, but that didn't stop me from trying my hardest to slip a casual flirt in with the shy boys at the temple. It was no fun as I could feel the eyes of judging mothers on me.

Culture vultures

Fast forward some years, and I'd fulfilled my teenage dream. I dated a drummer in a band, a music industry guy, and a guitarist. Although it was fun, it occurred to me that I wasn't able to share my culture with them, and they didn't show a particular interest in it either. My ethnicity is not my entire identity, but it's an important part of who I am. If you're dating someone, there should be a mutual interest in each other's backgrounds.

I was drawn to anyone who shared the same interests as me, but I started to hear things like, “you could be my Yoko Ono”. It was a pleasant thought at first, but then I questioned whether I was just a trophy Indian side piece.

Despite Indians being the second largest ethnic group in the UK, I was met with ignorant questions from men on dating apps. Do you speak Indian? But where are you really from? Have you practiced the Karma Sutra? I couldn't believe the casual racist stereotyping I faced. Many got annoyed when I tried to educate them, passing the blame back on to me for being too sensitive. The gaslighting was rife. One man bragged about how he loved Indian food - but I was disappointed to learn that he exclusively meant chicken tikka masala. When I took him to eat traditional Indian food, he deemed it 'dirty' to eat with his hands and said he hated the food.

My ethnicity is not a fetish

I started dating a guy I met on an app (let's call him Andy) who, unlike others, showed an avid interest in my Indian background. I found Andy kind and we shared an interest in travel, music, and food. We dated for 10 months and even visited India together. During this time, the warning signs started to appear. Andy started getting a little too comfortable with slipping into a jokey Indian accent, and he constantly spoke about India when he had the chance. He once asked me "how come you don't have a monobrow like other Indian girls?" I was mortified. The way he bunched us “Indian Girls” together so casually made me question his intentions. I found out that he had previously dated Indian girls, and suddenly it all made sense. I was nothing more than a fetish to Andy.

We broke up, but it took me a year to fully digest what had happened. It's not wrong to have a preference, but when your entire relationship is based on one person's race, it crosses over into fetish territory. Be wary of this - as it never ends well, and it's intrusive.

Does the judgment ever go away?

I currently live happily ever after with my partner, and we take an avid interest in each other's cultures. I'm not his “Indian girlfriend”, I'm just his girlfriend. He has welcomed my world with open arms, but sadly he still faces forms of discrimination. We've both grown to ignore the judgmental looks as we walk hand-in-hand minding our own business, and it seems there'll always be people who have something to say about our relationship. Don't expect a wedding invite, aunty!

Dating outside your race comes with its fair share of drama, so the moral of the story is to watch out for early red flags, and ask yourself if you're being loved for who you truly are. There's nothing more beautiful than sharing your culture with someone you love and trust. Just make sure they appreciate it and respect it.