Indian American matchmaking is broken

I’ve found dating fellow Indian American millennials is more complicated than even the TV shows and movies portray. If only more Indian families had open conversations about it.

Issue #49

Hi all —

I’ve been sitting on this newsletter draft for a few months now. I’m not sure how it’s going to be received, but I wanted to start a conversation and share my candid experiences with other Indian American millennials and their families.

The lies, deceit and miscommunication rampant in Indian American communities — and likely South Asian American communities at large — when it comes to dating and relationships really needs to be talked about more. It’s time to address the awkwardness.

I believe this is a conversation that shouldn’t just happen in silos and needs to also happen across generations. I’m thinking about ways to facilitate more discussions about this in 2023.

The essay is below. I’ve tried to keep it brief, because I could probably write a book about this at this point.

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Thanks for joining the conversation,
Vignesh Ramachandran
Co-founder of Red, White and Brown Media

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Indian American matchmaking is broken

I’ve found dating fellow Indian American millennials is more complicated than even the TV shows and movies portray. If only more Indian families had open conversations about it.

By Vignesh Ramachandran | December 2022

This year, millions of Americans watched the second season of “Indian Matchmaking” on Netflix, feeding a reality-show-driven fascination with a modern spin on arranged marriage.

But when the cameras aren’t there, outside the confines of an episodic format, Indian matchmaking in real life, off-screen, can be a frustrating, deceitful process of cultural and generational disconnect between Indian American millennials, their peers and their immigrant parents — wavering between Hollywood rom-com illusions of the West and archaic traditions from the East.

I should know. 

As a 33-year-old single guy with concerned Indian parents, I’ve had my share of introductions to fellow second-generation Indian Americans over the last decade. In addition to the usual cocktail of dating apps of the era, I’ve gone through cycles of being open to parent, relative or friend introductions — thinking of it as just another way to meet people, like an app. You should totally meet auntie’s cousin’s neighbor’s brother-in-law’s dentist’s daughter who happens to be working in [INSERT CURRENT CITY I’M LIVING IN]. If my Google Calendar tracks correctly, I’ve done coffee, drinks, dinner or phone dates with at least 70 Indian American millennial women over the last 10 years.

Dating in the Indian American community has been a soul-sucking exercise of frustration. I’m humbled, my ego long withered and surprised I don’t yet have gray hairs from the pure stress of it all.

• There was the date who worked for a tech unicorn startup whose parents hadn’t even told her they had posted her profile on an Indian dating website. (This missing consent has happened multiple times.)

• The date whose dad was hiding in the corner of the coffee shop during our first date.

• The date who told me she was talking to me only because she wanted to beat her parents in meeting someone first.

How romantic.

Growing up between two cultures isn’t always easy. The divides between generations is a tale as old as time in any immigrant community. What generational cultural traditions do you embrace and which ones do you leave behind? 

Many of our parents’ generation — at least in Indian Hindu communities — were introduced through some sort of arranged process in the 1970s, 1980s or 1990s. Some, like my late maternal grandparents, had a “love marriage” — a rarity in 1960s South India.

There seems to be a sort of primal compulsion in many Indian parents to ensure their children are married, a life milestone inherently baked into the culture. But many Indian American kids grew up in an environment where academics were encouraged more than dating — though the second many graduate from college and get their first jobs: Beta, are you dating anyone yet?

While there are wonderful people out there, all these confusions often lead to deceit and miscommunication. Add an undertone of superficial status-consciousness — an unscrupulous drive for professional success and materialism, especially rampant in Asian culture — and that mixes up people’s motives even more.

Of course these are broad generalizations about the Indian American community. My nuclear family is admittedly more moderate than most: My parents have arranged introductions over the years but recognize that like many millennials — Brown, Black or white — I have also resorted to swiping apps and apps that profess they are the anti-swiping antidote. We’ve had our own share of disagreements about dating and marriage — sometimes resulting in a heated phone call or two. But it’s always been an open conversation. Hey, I’m dating so-and-so, just so you know. This is where I’m at in my life and what I want to do and not do. I’m lucky to have open communication with my own parents, and over the years have had spans where I’ve embraced introductions, and other spans where I’ve asked for my space. 

For some peers who I’ve spoken with or dated, there is no open conversation. It’s a one-way discussion: Get married to a like-minded, same-subculture, Ivy-League-educated Brown person. Are they a doctor or engineer, too?

So I am appealing to Indian parents in America: Talk openly to your daughters and sons about dating. You decided to raise your children in a different culture, so listen to their views in a two-way conversation. Stop being so awkward about it. Back off, if they say so or if they want to approach their life or relationships in a different way. It’s their life — not yours.

And to my fellow Indian American peers: Some of you take charge in boardrooms or operating rooms every day in your professional life, but crumble at the very thought of talking honestly with your parents about relationships. Stop living a double life. Stand your ground, if you don’t want to be introduced to other Brown people. Be more open and honest about your relationships and what you want — and don’t want — in life. Treat your peers with respect, too. Communicate candidly. Because we’re all in this together.

These conversations can be hard. But it makes it less painful for us all in the end.

Though my own experiences have been a roller coaster, leaving me somewhat jaded, I still want to meet a special someone — no matter her heritage (my DMs are open, just saying). But they must love dogs. I’m a dog dad to Laddoo, an affable golden retriever named after the golden Indian sweet.

It’s often served at weddings.

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Vignesh Ramachandran is a multiplatform editor at The Washington Post and co-founder of Red, White and Brown Media, which facilitates substantive conversations through the lens of South Asian American race and identity — via journalism, social media and events. He’s on Twitter and Instagram via @VigneshR.

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