How ‘Me’ and ‘You’ Became ‘Us’

Recently, someone asked me a question on Instagram that I’ve thought about ever since.

She wrote:

“How do you deal with all the cultural differences? How do you handle the patriarchal eye in Nigeria? How does one let go of something archetypical? and aren’t you scared all the time somethings will crack ? One of you will be like: that’s it. I chose for my culture and traditions. What helped you get on the same page and how long did it take for the big lines to be ironed ? I’m asking cause I’m in it and even if I’m experienced in love and life I find it hard to come to a place of “us” even if so elements are there.”

If I’m honest, I completely understand why people ask these questions because, before I met Dammy, I’d probably have wondered exactly the same thing. From the outside, people often see the fun side of intercultural relationships. They see the food, the language, the traditions and the funny cultural misunderstandings. What they don’t see are the conversations that happen behind closed doors, when two people who have grown up in completely different countries are trying to build one life together.

When I married Dammy, I wasn’t expecting him to become more British, and he wasn’t expecting me to become more Nigerian. We both came into our marriage with our own upbringing, our own values and our own understanding of the world. Those things don’t suddenly disappear because you fall in love, and I don’t think they should. They make us who we are.

One part of the question mentioned patriarchy, and I actually smiled because people often assume they already know what our marriage must look like simply because Dammy is Nigerian. The reality is much more nuanced than that. Yes, Dammy grew up in Nigeria, where more traditional gender roles are common, but he’s also his own person. He’s always encouraged me to have my own opinions, supported me in building my own career and has never expected me to simply agree with him because he’s the husband.

I’d also say we’re probably fortunate in some ways because we haven’t faced some of the challenges that other intercultural couples might. Dammy isn’t a particularly traditional person, despite growing up in Nigeria. That doesn’t mean we’ve never had differences, though. We absolutely have. Some of our biggest conversations over the years have been around parenting, wider family, expectations and the different ways we naturally approach situations because of how we were both raised.

There have been times where one of us has looked at a situation and thought, “Well, that’s just common sense,” while the other has been thinking exactly the opposite. Not because one of us was right and the other was wrong, but because we’d spent our whole lives seeing the world through different lenses. Looking back, I don’t think those differences have ever been the problem. The problem would have been if we’d stopped talking about them.

For me, communication has been one of the biggest foundations of our marriage. Not just talking for the sake of talking, but creating a space where we’re both able to be completely honest, even when we know the other person might not agree. Some conversations have been easy, while others have taken time before we’ve both fully understood each other’s perspective. We’ve learnt that not every disagreement has to be solved immediately, but it does have to be talked about.

Communication, though, only works if it’s backed up by curiosity. Instead of trying to prove why my way is the right way, I’ve learnt to ask questions. “Why is that important to you?” “Is that something you’ve always believed, or is it something you’ve grown up seeing?” “Can you help me understand where that comes from?” Dammy has done exactly the same for me. Those conversations have probably done more for our marriage than trying to win an argument ever could because once you understand where someone’s opinion comes from, it’s much harder to dismiss it.

I also think compromise is something that’s often misunderstood. People sometimes think compromise means one person constantly giving in, but I don’t see it like that at all. I think you have to be honest about the things you’re happy to compromise on, but equally honest about the things that are so important to who you are that constantly compromising on them would eventually lead to resentment. If you never have those conversations, one person can slowly start to feel like they’re losing part of their identity just to keep the relationship going, and I don’t think that’s healthy for either person.

For us, compromise has never been about asking, “Who wins?” It’s been about asking, “Can we both genuinely live happily with this?” Sometimes that’s meant meeting in the middle. Sometimes it’s meant one of us realising that something matters much more to the other person than it does to ourselves. And sometimes it’s simply meant respecting that we’re different without feeling the need to change each other.

Rather than worrying whether something was the British way or the Nigerian way, instead, we asked ourselves a much simpler question:

“What’s right for our family?”

That question has shaped so many of the decisions we’ve made over the years. Some things we do are probably influenced by how I grew up, while other things naturally reflect Dammy’s upbringing. Then there are plenty of things that don’t really belong to either culture because we’ve created them ourselves over the years. I think that’s what happens when two people genuinely build a life together. You stop trying to fit into existing boxes and slowly create one of your own.

I think that’s the part people often miss. The goal was never for one culture to win or for one of us to become less British or less Nigerian. The goal was to build a marriage where we both felt heard, respected and understood. That doesn’t happen overnight, and it certainly doesn’t happen without effort. It happens because, over and over again, you choose the relationship over your own pride.

Even now, we’re still learning from each other. There are still moments where one of us says, “I never knew that,” or “I’d never thought about it like that before.” I actually hope that never stops because I don’t think the strongest marriages are the ones where two people think exactly the same. I think they’re the ones where two people stay curious enough to keep learning about each other.

So when people ask me how “me” and “you” became “us”, I don’t think there was one defining moment. It happened through many conversations, through listening more than speaking, through being honest about what mattered to us and through finding compromise without feeling like either of us had to lose who we were in the process.

In reality I don’t think either of us chose our culture over our relationship. We chose our relationship, and together we’ve built a family that has room for both of our cultures, both of our experiences and both of who we are.

And I think that’s what “us” really means.