I’ve experienced many different reactions when people find out that Mr. Fresh Hell is Algerian.

I wrote a little bit about it earlier (I haven't mastered the whole linking dealie but it's somewhere in the December archives, my apologies) in reference to racism.

I still get some “knee jerk” responses in a post 9/11 New York City, like “is he sexist?”. Ooh, did my hackles rise at that one! Just because he has an Arabic name and heritage he's automatically sexist? That comment initially made me angry not just because it was stunningly ignorant, but it came from an extremely intelligent person with a college education plus medical school (this was a doctor, people - gah!) from whom I perhaps naively expected more.

Granted, this doctor doesn’t know Mr. FH, so I didn't get too flipped out by her asking a misguided and offensive question, reasoning as I did that she probably at best has a very slim geographical knowledge of his home country filtered through the nonsense routinely profilgated in the mainstream media.

American-Algerian marriages are rather thin on the ground, so I’m sure we do stick out a lot, but most cross-cultural marriages are ripe for seemingly earnest yet intrusive and often completely rude questions that would never be asked if the couple comes from the same culture.

Although hard to discern from a casual glance, the similarities between Mr. FH and I have always been greater than our differences. We come from tediously repressive religious backgrounds that we subsequently rejected (thus fueling our reliance on science and reason); we hold the title of black sheep in our respective families; we had romantically adventurous pasts that we both prefer to consign to the mists of memory; we share a sense of humor and are both addicted to travel.

But, as I tell people constantly, cross cultural marriages aren’t for everyone. There’s a high level of ambiguity involved – one must be prepared to be thrust into potentially embarrassing situations where one doesn't have all the etiquette to hand, be open to learning about and assimilating the mores of a radically different culture, and be receptive to criticism and disagreement of many tenets of one’s own culture.

I wholeheartedly believe respective family expectations need to be agreed upon between the couple first and then clearly and firmly presented to both of the family groups. This seems to help resolve a lot of problems as time goes on.

If you are a person who feels it would be impossible to have a relationship with a person who can't share your cultural frame of reference, a cross cultural marriage will be a long row to hoe and may likely fail. Mr. FH and I don’t (and can’t) reminisce about the funniest episodes of I Dream of Jeannie or Gilligan’s Island; he doesn’t remember elementary school drills involving “duck and cover”. The stories he tells of his childhood escapades on the family farm in southern Morocco are alternately thrilling in their recklessness and at times openly barbarous when compared to the relative safety of my American suburban youth.

He has lived, worked, been productive and happy for the last 15 years in my culture, while we visit his once a year. I've made a concerted effort to learn his language and actively seek a place of comfort for myself in his culture. I've done that because I wanted it for me and because I want this marriage to grow and thrive. The fact that it also pleases him adds a little frosting on the cake.

I made a lifetime commitment with my best friend, who continues to surprise and astonish me and who is always dear but really, awfully odd.