The "Own Kind" Myth: Why I’m Not Following the Script

The scissors snip rhythmically, and the reflection in the mirror is familiar, but the conversation has turned into a script I never auditioned for.

"International relationships are just so hard," a hairdresser sighs. "The divorce, the shared custody... it rarely lasts. You should stick to your own kind."

I have lived in the EU since I was twenty. My adult identity was forged here. Yet, in a single sentence, I’m being told my heart should have a geographical border. People love to project "fucked up" stories onto my life—predicting my divorce or my "inevitable" struggle—simply because I haven't chosen a partner who looks like me. I have never had a serious relationship or even a situationship with a Korean guy or with an asian guy. And what? Maybe we do not get along.

The Attack of the Binary

In Sweden, I’ve felt a quiet, aggressive gatekeeping of "belonging." It feels like the world is strictly divided into two: you are either 100% Swedish (or safely coupled with a Swede), or you are "The Other." If you fall into the "Other" category, people start writing your biography for you. Even highly educated expats, who coast through life in English without ever struggling to learn the local language, can be incredibly aggressive. They’ve found their "good life," and they feel qualified to tell me how to integrate or who to date.

Then comes the specific brand of ignorance that comes with being Asian. Men constantly corner me to talk about Thailand. I have never been to Thailand. I don't want to go. But because I am Asian, I am forced to be a mirror for their vacation memories. They aren't talking to me; they are talking at me. It is an attack masked as "appreciation."

The Workplace "Ideal"

This pressure isn't just social; it’s professional. At my latest workplace, I realized the environment is built for one type of person: those who met their partner in their 20s, got married (or sambo), and are now 100% focused on the "family project."

There is no room for the single person, the person in a complicated situation, or the person whose life doesn't follow a linear path. If you aren't doing your best to maintain that specific, stable "family" image, you are an outlier. You are "complicated." You don't fit the spreadsheet.

The Reality Check

But here is what these people don't understand: I am not naive.

Living here has taught me a cold, hard clarity. Whether I am in Malmö or Seoul, the "happily ever after" script is a gamble. I don’t believe in "forever love" as a safety net. I know that if I have a child, I am 100% responsible for that life—regardless of who the father is.

Divorce happens every day in South Korea just as it does in Sweden or in other places. Loneliness doesn't care about your passport. So, why should I limit my life to a "kind" defined by a stranger’s narrow imagination?

Writing My Own Story

When people suggest I stay with "my own kind," they aren't protecting me. They are trying to shame me back into a box that makes them feel comfortable. They want me to be with an Asian man because it satisfies their need for "order."

I am not a character in their cautionary tale, and I’m certainly not a travel brochure for someone’s holiday. I’m not looking for my "kind"—I’m looking for my life. And I don’t need a specific passport or a hairdresser’s permission to live it.