I came to the United States believing that opportunity would be the hardest thing to secure. I was wrong. Opportunity, I discovered, can be found with long hours and determination. Love, however — real, committed, life-building love — is far more elusive.
If there is a place where it is unexpectedly difficult to find a spouse or long-term partner, it is within immigrant communities. That may sound ironic. After all, many immigrants come from cultures where marriage is deeply valued, where family is central, and where long-term commitment is not just expected but celebrated. Yet from what I have seen and lived, true love becomes complicated once we cross borders.
Let me be clear: this is not about sex. Casual encounters are not rare. Kukulana hapa na pale iko in excess. Physical companionship can be found. But finding a person willing to build a shared life — to plan for children, to merge finances, to grow old together — that is a different matter entirely.
As someone who has spent good time among immigrant communities across the United States, I have heard and noticed a pattern. There are many hardworking, ambitious, resilient people. But there are fewer individuals ready to commit to long-term partnership. Too often, relationships are reduced to a few hours, perhaps a few nights, without the intention of permanence. The emotional investment seems guarded, cautious, sometimes even transactional. No emotions attached works among immigrants; it is body to body affair.
Why is this happening?
One factor, I believe, is age. Many immigrants who arrive in the United States come through employment visas or specialized programs. These processes often favor individuals who have completed education and gained professional experience. By the time they arrive, many are already in their 30s or older. In some of our home countries, that age is already considered “late” for marriage. Back home, the social circles for meeting a spouse at that age may have narrowed. In America, those circles shrink even further.
Another factor is family separation. A significant number of immigrants do not arrive alone in a romantic sense. Some come already married and leave spouses behind temporarily, hoping to reunite later. Others are engaged or emotionally committed to someone in their home country. Still others arrive with children, carrying responsibilities that make dating complex. These realities quietly reduce the pool of people who are truly available for long-term partnership.
Then there is the culture of work. The United States is, above all, work-driven. Immigrants, especially, often feel intense pressure to succeed. People work long hours. They send money home. They chase stability. Social life becomes secondary. Outside of workplaces, there are surprisingly few organic spaces where immigrants consistently gather and build relationships. For many communities, church is one of the only regular meeting points and mostly is for people with families. Beyond that, life can feel fragmented — work, home, repeat.
Cultural adjustment also plays a role. In many of our home countries, expressing romantic interest can be direct and persistent. In the United States, however, social and legal norms around dating are stricter and more clearly defined. A gesture meant as romantic pursuit in one culture can be interpreted as harassment or stalking in another. Immigrants quickly learn to tread carefully. Fear of misunderstanding — or of crossing boundaries — can make people withdraw rather than risk vulnerability.
Even communication styles differ. In some cultures, sending heartfelt messages like “I love you” early in a relationship is normal, even expected. Here, expressions of love often develop more slowly and privately. The emotional pacing feels different. For immigrants navigating unfamiliar social codes, this can create hesitation and doubt.
What emerges from all of this is a quiet loneliness. People build careers. People buy homes. People achieve the old version of “American Dream” on paper. Yet emotionally, many remain in limbo — disconnected from the traditional matchmaking structures of home and unsure how to fully integrate into American dating culture.
I do not write this to criticize the United States or immigrant communities. Rather, I write to acknowledge a reality that is seldom discussed. Immigration reshapes more than careers; it reshapes love lives. It alters timelines, expectations, and opportunities for connection.
True love among immigrants is not impossible. It simply requires more intentionality. It demands patience across cultural lines, clarity about availability, and courage to commit in a world that often rewards independence over partnership.
Perhaps the greatest irony is this: immigrants are among the most resilient people you will meet. People leave everything familiar behind and rebuild from scratch. If we can do that, surely we can learn to rebuild our understanding of love as well. But first, we must admit that for many of us, finding not just companionship — but a life partner — remains one of the hardest journeys of all.
If there is a place where it is unexpectedly difficult to find a spouse or long-term partner, it is within immigrant communities. That may sound ironic. After all, many immigrants come from cultures where marriage is deeply valued, where family is central, and where long-term commitment is not just expected but celebrated. Yet from what I have seen and lived, true love becomes complicated once we cross borders.
Let me be clear: this is not about sex. Casual encounters are not rare. Kukulana hapa na pale iko in excess. Physical companionship can be found. But finding a person willing to build a shared life — to plan for children, to merge finances, to grow old together — that is a different matter entirely.
As someone who has spent good time among immigrant communities across the United States, I have heard and noticed a pattern. There are many hardworking, ambitious, resilient people. But there are fewer individuals ready to commit to long-term partnership. Too often, relationships are reduced to a few hours, perhaps a few nights, without the intention of permanence. The emotional investment seems guarded, cautious, sometimes even transactional. No emotions attached works among immigrants; it is body to body affair.
Why is this happening?
One factor, I believe, is age. Many immigrants who arrive in the United States come through employment visas or specialized programs. These processes often favor individuals who have completed education and gained professional experience. By the time they arrive, many are already in their 30s or older. In some of our home countries, that age is already considered “late” for marriage. Back home, the social circles for meeting a spouse at that age may have narrowed. In America, those circles shrink even further.
Another factor is family separation. A significant number of immigrants do not arrive alone in a romantic sense. Some come already married and leave spouses behind temporarily, hoping to reunite later. Others are engaged or emotionally committed to someone in their home country. Still others arrive with children, carrying responsibilities that make dating complex. These realities quietly reduce the pool of people who are truly available for long-term partnership.
Then there is the culture of work. The United States is, above all, work-driven. Immigrants, especially, often feel intense pressure to succeed. People work long hours. They send money home. They chase stability. Social life becomes secondary. Outside of workplaces, there are surprisingly few organic spaces where immigrants consistently gather and build relationships. For many communities, church is one of the only regular meeting points and mostly is for people with families. Beyond that, life can feel fragmented — work, home, repeat.
Cultural adjustment also plays a role. In many of our home countries, expressing romantic interest can be direct and persistent. In the United States, however, social and legal norms around dating are stricter and more clearly defined. A gesture meant as romantic pursuit in one culture can be interpreted as harassment or stalking in another. Immigrants quickly learn to tread carefully. Fear of misunderstanding — or of crossing boundaries — can make people withdraw rather than risk vulnerability.
Even communication styles differ. In some cultures, sending heartfelt messages like “I love you” early in a relationship is normal, even expected. Here, expressions of love often develop more slowly and privately. The emotional pacing feels different. For immigrants navigating unfamiliar social codes, this can create hesitation and doubt.
What emerges from all of this is a quiet loneliness. People build careers. People buy homes. People achieve the old version of “American Dream” on paper. Yet emotionally, many remain in limbo — disconnected from the traditional matchmaking structures of home and unsure how to fully integrate into American dating culture.
I do not write this to criticize the United States or immigrant communities. Rather, I write to acknowledge a reality that is seldom discussed. Immigration reshapes more than careers; it reshapes love lives. It alters timelines, expectations, and opportunities for connection.
True love among immigrants is not impossible. It simply requires more intentionality. It demands patience across cultural lines, clarity about availability, and courage to commit in a world that often rewards independence over partnership.
Perhaps the greatest irony is this: immigrants are among the most resilient people you will meet. People leave everything familiar behind and rebuild from scratch. If we can do that, surely we can learn to rebuild our understanding of love as well. But first, we must admit that for many of us, finding not just companionship — but a life partner — remains one of the hardest journeys of all.
