Disclaimer: In Real Life is a platform for everyday people to share their experiences and voices. All articles are personal stories and do not necessarily echo In Real Life’s sentiments.
This story is shared by a Chinese woman whose Muslim in-laws host a CNY reunion dinner for her and her Muslim husband every year.
My name is Hui Ting, and come March 2024, I’ve been married to a Muslim man for three years.
Every year before Chinese New Year, my husband asks me the same question: “Hui Ting, reunion dinner at my parents this year?” And each time, I gladly say yes.
What many don’t know is that for the last 3 years, my husband’s very Muslim family has been holding the traditional CNY reunion dinner with me. Here’s how it all started:
I married a Muslim man against my family’s wishes.
I met my husband Adnan when we were both university students. We dated all through uni all the way until graduation in 2016. A year later, he proposed to me and I said yes.
When I announced my engagement to my parents, they were horrified that I would date outside my race. They told me to break off the engagement – or else.
I challenged them, “Or else what?!“
My father answered, “Or else don’t come back to this house.” I was shocked yet somehow, not surprised.
Growing up, I’ve never had a good relationship with my parents. My father would shout endlessly about academic performance to us kids, and my mother reinforced the message with the rotan.
My childhood memories are of being yelled at and whipped with the rotan every time my grades were lower than an “A.”
By the time I was an adult, I’d had enough of this and decided to pursue my own happiness instead of theirs. So when they gave me this ultimatum, I said goodbye to my parents and took Adnan’s hand in mine.
With no more regrets, I walked out the door of that house to be with my future husband.
My husband’s mother invited me to her home for CNY.
I was spending an afternoon at my husband’s house when the subject of CNY came up in casual conversation: My mother-in-law (I call her Mama) asked me when the reunion dinner was going to be with my family.
She was only making polite conversation, but it was like sandpaper over an open wound: raw and fresh. I remember crying as I told her how much my parents’ words hurt.
There was only the slightest pursing of her lips, a tightness around her eyes, that hinted at her displeasure at my parents disparaging remarks about her son being “rempit-melayu.”
She made me a pot of tea, then she listened and comforted me.
I think that when you are Chinese, loneliness is something you feel harshest when you’re alone for Chinese New Year.
That week before Chinese New Year, I was pretty depressed. I was missing the noise, the hustle, the bustle of the cooking preparation, of catching up with my extended family of cousins, aunts and uncles.
My mother had messaged me to ask if I was “still dating that Malay boy?” I replied that I was still engaged to him. Silence followed. I realised they were still expecting me to break up with him.
Then Mama invited me to dinner on Chinese New Year Eve. I thought it was just a very kind gesture as a way to distract me from dwelling too much on the situation.
I accepted the offer, but I had no idea of what I was really getting into.
They did a Lion Dance on the first day of Chinese New Year.
When Adnan picked me up to bring me to his parents’ house, he’d already picked out a dress for me. It was not a cheongsam, but it was red with gold trim and highlights, very fitting for Chinese New Year. Despite me not feeling the spirit of the occasion, I wore it.
When we went to his family home, Adnan opened the door for me, then I heard it. The drumroll. Any Malaysian would recognise the drum and the gong and crashing cymbals: Lion Dance!
The performance was brief and ended with the traditional single string of firecrackers and the unfurling of the scroll from the lion’s mouth.
Normally, the scroll goes to the head of the household or family as a way of giving a blessing over the family, for good fortune, health and prosperity. As it was his house, the scroll was presented to Adnan’s father.
We took a few photos with the troupe, with me standing alongside Adnan, and his parents and all of us.
I cried during the reunion dinner.
Mama had arranged for a classic Chinese New Year reunion dinner. All of the classics and staples were there (without pork of course): Steamed fish, mushroom, abalone, chicken, gorgeous egg fried rice and plain rice, paired with a rich flavorful beef soup.
After the mains, the traditional desserts included Nian Gao and sweet Tong Sui. They even had a cooler of drinks: 100 Plus, winter melon, sugar cane, and chrysanthemum tea. Mama really outdid herself.
As the chopsticks and rice bowls were distributed, I struggled to hold back tears. Then Papa, Adnan’s father, rose to make a short speech, about the importance of family.
“Hui Ting, you’ve been a part of our son’s life, and ours for many years. We hope that we can be family for many years.” Papa produced the Lion’s Scroll and then presented it to Adnan and me, “You will marry when the time is right, but until then: Welcome to our family.”
I was fully caught up in the spirit of the moment, and started bawling in the middle of the festivities. For the first time in days, perhaps weeks, my heart felt light, and happy again.
I married my Muslim husband after 4 years.
There would be a total of four such reunion dinners, until Adnan and I tied the knot in March of 2021. I invited my parents to the wedding, but they never responded.
Of course, Papa and Mama were in attendance, and in the finest of Chinese custom and tradition, drank the tea that was poured by Adnan and I, in the living room of their Ampang home.
I have not spoken to my parents since 2017, although I see my extended family at other times of the year.
Various cousins, aunts and uncles have kept me apprised of their situation, and nothing has changed since that day I left their house with Adnan in tow.
Although I would never experience Chinese New Year with my own family again, the way my husband’s parents fully embraced not just me, but the part of my culture that I still hold dear, speaks volumes to me.
Do you spend Chinese New Year in an unconventional way?
Tell us in the comments!
Or send an email to hello@inreallife.my and you may be featured on In Real Life Malaysia.
Read also: Planning A Malaysian Chinese Wedding? Here’s How Much It Costs!
Planning a Malaysian Chinese Wedding? Here’s How Much It Costs
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