“I Love You” in a Language My Parents Could Speak

“I love you.”

Three words that, for many Asian Americans, aren’t a daily reassurance but almost a shock to hear. If I heard those words from my parents, I’d honestly be worried something bad had happened.

But not hearing “I love you” doesn’t mean love isn’t there.

Many Asian immigrants grew up in cultures where words of affirmation weren’t the norm. Love was shown, not said. It’s like speaking different languages; you wouldn’t expect someone to understand you if you only spoke yours and never tried to learn theirs. The same goes for love. I’ve learned to listen for “I love you” in the language my parents actually speak.

Served on a Plate

For me, love has always tasted like something.

Since childhood, food has been my parents’ love language. Not just feeding me, but feeding me well. They use the best ingredients. They pack every meal with nutrients. They give me the best pieces of meat, the ripest slices of fruit, freshest seafood. They know my favorites without me having to ask. They cut my fruit so I didn’t have to. They cooked, so I didn’t have to learn.

And embarrassingly? I still haven’t needed to, even now in college.

If I skip a meal or eat poorly, they get genuinely upset with me. Not because they’re controlling, but because to them, my not eating well means I’m not loving myself enough to nurture my own body. In their eyes, feeding me was not only their job, but their way to show they want me to be healthy, happy, and loved. 

Invisible But Seen

Then there are the actions I never even asked for.

My parents have always been busy with work, and as I got older, I began to understand how much they were juggling at once. But somehow, if I ever mentioned that I needed anything, or even something I never mentioned at all, it would be done for me. Handled. Taken care of without me ever having to lift a finger.

A problem I hadn’t even voiced yet would be solved.

A task I didn’t know how to approach would already be finished. Although obviously they would lecture and teach me how to do it afterwards. Despite that, they never made a show of it. They just did it. Quietly. Selflessly. Because making my day easier was more important than getting credit for it. My parents have always put me first, and that’s shown me more than the need to hear “I love you.”