In the semi-autobiographical summer hit movie “The Big Sick,” comedian Kumail Nanjiani and his wife and co-writer Emily V. Gordon tell a love story familiar to many New Yorkers.
Nanjiani plays Kumail, a Pakistani Muslim who falls for Emily (Zoe Kazan), a white grad student from the American South.
But Kumail is destined for an arranged marriage, and a heartbroken Emily realizes there’s no place for her in his future. When she takes ill and is placed in a medically induced coma, Kumail must decide between her and his family’s approval.
Falling for a partner from a different religion or background is becoming more common in and around New York City as cultures that used to be more insular are becoming more open, says marital therapist Gracie Landes.
“I see a new client with this maybe two to three times a month,” the Flatiron-based therapist says. “We are a city of immigrants — with a global population. Whereas the generation that came here from another country will tend to stick with their own culture, first-generation natives will mix.”
Landes says the best way for couples from different cultures to sort through their differences is to go slowly and be patient. “People will adapt to culture they are welcomed into, so try inviting your partner to a fun, artistic, cultural event,” she suggests.‘Whereas the generation that came here from another country will tend to stick with their own culture, first-generation natives will mix.’
Whatever you do, she says, don’t take sides: When it comes to the one you love and your family members, “it’s your job to help them understand each other.”
Barza and Juan Diaz know the struggle firsthand. Like Nanjiani, Barza came from a Pakistani Muslim family. After years of secretly dating Juan, whose family hails from Ecuador, she told her parents that they planned to wed. Her family was devastated.
“I was going to marry him regardless,” says Barza, a 28-year-old accountant. “But marrying outside the Pakistani culture created a rift in [my] family.”
But once her family got to know Juan, they embraced him, she says. The IT analyst converted to Islam before their 2015 wedding which, in keeping with Muslim tradition, unfolded over several days. Those days were the best of her life, Barza says.
“[My family] saw that he really does value family and he’s going to value our family too,” she says. She was thrilled when, after a family dinner, her father hugged Juan: “That was his way of saying, ‘You’re OK!’”
Barry and Debbie Herbst faced a similar dilemma. Shortly after they met — at Penn Station, en route to a pro-Israel conference — Debbie let on that she came from an Orthodox Jewish family.
“I think he started to get it when I told him I’d be celebrating Rosh Hashanah and my phone is going to be off for three days,” says Debbie, a 29-year-old project manager.
Barry, on the other hand, laughingly describes himself as a “bagel-and -lox Jew” with a passion for Momofuku pork buns. So falling for someone like Debbie was daunting at first, the 28-year-old real-estate broker concedes.
Nevertheless, in the interest of building a life together, he’d adapt “because I’m so in love with her.”
For Debbie, having a kosher home and sending their kids to a Jewish school was non-negotiable, but she was open to breaking with other traditions: Being with Barry and raising a loving family is more important than any of that.
The couple decided to make it work, no matter the differences. In May, they married.
“My grandparents would hate to hear this, but young people just need to be open-minded,” says Debbie, adding that her family and community was supportive of her relationship with Barry. “We live in a modern world.”