Immigrants' Children Look Closer for Love

Researchers spent a decade following 3,300 children of immigrants in the New York region as they navigated adulthood, which led to a study published last year called "Inheriting the City: The Children of Immigrants Come of Age." They followed both the "second generation" children born in the United States and the "1.5 generation" -- children of immigrants who came as youngsters -- who were Dominican, Chinese, Russian Jews, South Americans and West Indians.

Researchers found that their subjects were constantly struggling with the desire to be open to people of all backgrounds vs. family expectations, and their own desires to sustain their culture. Most paired with others who shared similar racial or language backgrounds.

Many offspring of immigrants have tradition-minded parents who forbade them to date in high school. Now those same parents are pressuring their children to marry soon after they graduate from college. One Arlington graduate student, 25, fields telephone calls from her mother on the subject daily; she had one date recently, and her mother was already referring to the man by a pet name, which roughly translates from Chinese as "Little Cabbage."

"They make little comments, like, 'Have I found anyone?' and 'We just met our friends who have grandchildren,' " said Rich Park, 33, a Korean American from Annandale. "I want someone who understands what my life story is. I'm the oldest son, so there are some responsibilities I have to do, like be the communicator between my sibling as well as my cousins. If my parents need anything, I'll be the first to be asked."

Their forebears often met spouses through family introductions or arranged marriages. Now families are spread over the globe, and modern love seekers don't want a mate whom their parents found in a note tacked on their temple's events board. The researchers behind "Inheriting the City" found their subjects to be far more open-minded than their parents, whose views could be affected by racial or cultural bias in their home countries.

On a recent night in the back of the dimly lit Zen Bistro and Wine Bar in Arlington, Park and Xiao were among about 30 singles who gathered on bar stools and low-slung leather couches to chat. Karlan moved through the room at four-minute intervals, telling the men when to switch seats. Participants took notes on their prospective dates; they would learn later through an anonymous e-mail system whether they had a match.

One whom Xiao met in recent weeks stands out: a Korean American lawyer about her age. She has seen him a few times.

She is starting to feel "kind of nurturing" toward him. Recently, for example, they were having cocktails at the bar at Zaytinya in downtown Washington, and his jacket collar was mussed. She reached over to smooth it.

She likes his funky black glasses and sturdy physique and the self-deprecating way he writes his e-mails. ("You'll probably find this really boring but . . . " he sometimes writes, prefacing a brainy thought. )

That's very Asian, she thinks. It feels like home.