How deep is your love?

The INS wants proof of my romantic attachment.

By Seema Kalia

Oct 11, 2000 | I really, really love my husband. I say this not because I have any inclination to be so effusive, but because the Immigration and Naturalization Service really, really wants to know. You see, I am that cultural curiosity worthy of your suspicion: the foreign applicant for a green card who recently married an American.

The question on your mind (perhaps) and on the minds of the hardworking men and women at the INS (definitely) is: "Did you marry the guy just for a green card?" It isn't a ridiculous query under the circumstances and I am prepared to answer it, I suppose. It's just that I have detected, in the INS at least, a tendency to play the part of a slightly sadistic parent who truly enjoys denying a child something simply because the child wants it so very badly.

Now, my husband of six weeks is an intelligent man. He's a sensitive, modern man. And like any sensitive, modern guy, he knows that nobody's gonna be happy until his Canadian wife finds legal professional fulfillment. So he was, after a year and half of courtship, and an excessive wedding, more than happy to file the papers necessary to sponsor me for American citizenship.

First, though, we had to assemble the papers, and this is where the sadistic parent comes in. In addition to the usual detailed forms (the Canadian law degree I possess went a long way toward figuring this part out), several unflattering wallet-sized photos and checks for various (seemingly arbitrary) fees, the INS wanted "evidence of romantic courtship."

This is a frightening thought. My husband and I were both older than 30 -- and living in New York -- when we met. This means that our relationship was a vague, reserved, emotionally withholding set of interactions for quite some time. Heck, even when a sexual relationship develops, there isn't necessarily any reason to believe anyone loves anybody. Ours wasn't dysfunctional in a "Sex and the City" way or anything, but there were no innocent proclamations of overwhelming want, desire and passion.

More importantly, at no time did either of us write in a note, card or letter what our emotional state was, what we wanted, what we were aiming for in the relationship. We stated this in each other's presence -- frequently -- but we certainly didn't put it in writing.

So here I was. Newly married and struggling for written proof of the mutual increasing infatuation that led to our marriage. There were airline tickets for trips taken together, a few restaurant matchbooks. Receipts for jewelry (which my husband thought were definitely binding in some way) and a few e-mails back and forth showing our plans for dates and trips. But did I have anywhere, even in a birthday or Christmas or Valentine's Day card, a written statement that said, "I love you sincerely and deeply with all my heart and for no improper purpose," signed, dated and notarized? I did not.

Even the e-mails were signed off with "See you later" or "Looking forward to seeing you." But hey, in our relationship there happened to be a big difference between what was said and what was written.

I wanted to apply for a professional restriction waiver. I implored my immigration lawyer: Surely these rules were designed for those who married tortured poets -- my husband works on Wall Street! He manages a hedge fund, for God's sake! He is incapable of expressing his feelings. He thought the Tiffany receipts should have done the trick. I mean, did the INS really believe that this guy would write and date a statement of his overwhelming emotional dependence on me? Heck no! He was barely able to admit it to himself, much less put it in writing.

I scoured our e-mail traffic looking for some proof that ours was a true romance and not a relationship of convenience. I mean, how did I even know that my husband married me because he loved me and not because he secretly wanted for me to have a green card? I started asking other women, "How do you know your husband really loves you?" Most pointed to the unwritten gestures: romantic pillow talk, time spent together, a wedding. None had written, signed and dated declarations of love that would meet a legal standard of proof.

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