COLUMN: Love can be expressed differently

My parents rarely said “I love you” to each other — or even to me, their only child. Even now, when those three seemingly holy words slip out of my mouth, they sound foreign, strange and unsure.

From a young age, I was never taught the word “love” — rather, I experienced it through actions, through words of encouragement, through my mother standing in a freezing ice rink at 7 a.m. to watch my figure skating practices, through my father delivering early-morning newspapers for extra income.

As I grew older, I realized that this habit of expressing limited affection was especially common in more traditional Asian families.

It was hard, as a teenager, to navigate through the pitfalls of love — familial love, romantic love, even platonic love — when I was not exposed to its usual conventions. Although I voraciously read teenage romance novels and enjoyed my fair share of romantic comedies, I lacked the expressive affirmation many received from their parents and relatives, especially during holidays and family gatherings.

Instead, I was used to acknowledging action in place of affection. My parents showcased a constant, unique form of love for our family that I failed to recognize until I moved out of the house.

Love, I later realized, was found through family loyalty, personal dedication and daily 6 p.m. dinners. Even now, I am still learning the conventions of this strange love language that my culture speaks: Words and physical touch are instead traded for actions of sacrifice or service, and I find myself missing these little actions that once contributed to my daily life.

I recall listening to my friends end phone calls with their parents with a gentle “I love you,” which slipped out quickly enough to sound like a casual goodbye. For me, I saved my words of love to my parents for special occasions: before my solo flight to the Dominican Republic, during college move-in day and the evening after my grandma’s funeral.

My sparing use made the words more precious when directed toward my family members, who were not used to verbal affection. The exchange of those three words was sometimes awkward and unfamiliar. None of us are better or worse at love — our means of expression are simply different than those typically used in modern Western traditions.

I am a firm believer that every individual has their own interpretation of love, influenced by their social and cultural upbringing. My experiences with verbal affection were limited, and I found myself in a subconscious dichotomy of love: I was always seeking it through affirmative words, but the love I was taught to receive was through actions of service and support.

I used the word “love” circumspectly around my parents, but within friendships and even relationships, I applied it more liberally — too liberally, in fact. I never found myself verbally expressing affection at home, so I attempted to compensate through my close friendships and, perhaps most damagingly, in romantic relationships.

Love is love — but then again, there are different kinds of love, reserved for different people in different situations. There was never a time when I was “in the closet” as a bisexual woman. When I discovered that I was romantically in love with a girl, I did not have any hesitation in revealing my identity to others.

But perhaps that’s where the line blurs — I told her I loved her as more than a friend, and in our year-long relationship, she developed a selfless dedication toward me, while my feelings for her were simply stronger than pure friendship.

For many, the word “love” holds significant weight and depth. It signifies an unconditional and selfless bond, known as agape by the ancient Greeks. But for me, its definition is broad — it embodies the ancient Greeks’ varieties of love, from philia (love in friendship) to eros (romantic) to storge (family loyalty) to agape (selfless, unconditional love). I saw love through stages of affection and dedication in relationships. It changes and evolves with us, I realized, and varies by circumstance.

In modern American tradition, it sounds ridiculous that I have said “I love you” to my lovers and friends more often than I directly say it to my own family. But to my parents, the people to whom I owe my entire existence, I express my deepest love and trust through direct, unreserved action.

Terry Nguyen is a freshman majoring in journalism and political science. She is also the lifestyle editor of the Daily Trojan. Her column, “Fémmoirs,” runs every other Monday.