I don't regret him as the father of my kids. He is wonderful with them, even if he's anxious about the smallest things. He does his best and I still love him. But the cultural differences, his obsession with race, and his self-hatred weigh so heavily on me. I love our children more than anything, but sometimes I feel sad for them because of the way he talks.
One time, I don't even know how the topic came up, I said something like "people might see our kids as Asian" and he replied, "yes, and you know that for most people here looking Asian IS a bad thing, it's not something to be proud of." That crushed me. It stuck in my head for days, and I couldn't stop thinking about it when I looked at my kids. I've never seen them like that, never thought of them that way — the thought alone tortured me.
