The Father-Daughter Dance and Cultural Coding

In my forthcoming book, The Clean Daughter, I write a lot about cross-cultural marriage. I’m endlessly fascinated with the subject. I think this is partly because I’m not just writing about it, I’m living it. Still. Every day. Looking at my husband and I, you’d never guess that we are culturally coded in such vastly different ways.

It doesn’t go away. It still plays out in our lives.

Just this week, my hubby and I had a cross-cultural moment. It had to do with traditions. And assumptions. Even after forty years of marriage, we still get tripped up sometimes by our very different upbringings. And this, most likely, is true whether you are in a mixed marriage or a marriage from the same country, culture, and race. Here’s the story.

Our youngest daughter is getting married soon and she asked her dad if he’d do the Father–Daughter Dance with her. He said no. Dancing isn’t his things. She was fine with it, but it bothered me. I mean, really? No Father-Daughter Dance? I felt rather emotional about the whole thing.

Later, I asked him, “Why not do it?”

He replied, “Why should I? I don’t like to dance. It’s no big deal.”

Over the course of the next few weeks, I just didn’t want to let it go. So I broached the subject again. Open-minded. Asking questions. Listening.

“Jill,” he said. “I don’t like to dance. What’s the big deal?”

“But it’s the Father-Daughter Dance!” I replied. As if that gave him any information he didn’t already have!

“Well,” he replied, “I just don’t get it. I’ve never seen one.”

“What?” I almost shouted. “Of course, you have!”

So we started talking. And I was astonished!

“We went to Jim and Ciara’s wedding. They didn’t dance,” he said.

“True.”

“We went to Jill and Joren’s wedding. They didn’t dance, either,” he continued.

“You’re right.”

“We went to MaKayla and John’s wedding. Her dad did not dance with her.”

“Oh, man. You’re right.”

“The only other wedding I’ve been to was Becky and Christian’s. Her dad didn’t dance with her either.” he continued. “So. Like I said. I’ve never even seen one.”

By this time I was feeling a little stupid. I’d spent six years being a second shooter for a wedding photographer. I’d been to a hundred weddings. Seen a hundred Father-Daughter dances. Watched the mother-of-the bride tear-up. Heard the beautiful Dance with My Daughter song flood my heart, or I Loved Her First.

I have a thousand memories of dances.

Friends. Neighbors. Cousins. I dreamed of my father dancing with me.

Without realizing it, I’d been culturally coded.

Father-Daughter Dance = Love.

My husband had no such coding. He’d never even seen what I was talking about.

Time to eat crow!

As we talked, I began to understand my American cultural coding about weddings. It was an eye opening discussion.

At the end he said, “Well. If that’s what it means, of course I’ll dance with her. It’s not my thing and I’m uncomfortable with it. But if it means that much to her, of course I will. I didn’t really understand.”

He’s a good man.

“I’m proud of you,” I said. “And really. No one will remember. But the photographer will snap some photos of the two of you, and it will be a memory she will have for the rest of her life.”

He smiled.

“And anyway,” I continued. “She KNOWS how to dance. She’ll make you look good.”

Disaster diverted. Misunderstanding overcome. Another cultural misadventure forestalled.

This is part of what a cross-cultural marriage is like.

For better. Or for worse.

Hope you enjoyed a little peek into my cross-cultural life!

I’m working on a Q&A for other people in cross-cultural marriages. Shoot me an email if you’re in a “mixed” marriage and would be interested in answering the Q&A to be featured on my blog.

Love always,

Jill