I-130 Family Immigration Visa Reflections: A Psychological Marathon (Part II)
I remember begging my mother as a child, “Mom, I want to study abroad someday.” In our working-class family, dreaming felt like a luxury, and my mother’s pressure made me abandon that aspiration. It wasn’t until a close friend shook me awake—“You can excel in your studies, win scholarships or public funding; why blame your birth family instead of pushing yourself to the limit?”—that I dared to dream again.
Now, two years have passed without seeing my husband as we wait for our visa. Reflecting on why I said yes to his proposal, I realize it wasn’t pure romance. Marriage is a partnership—an investment. Here in the U.S., one’s relationships, education, and career translate directly into income and status. Most people don’t live on love alone; they weigh their worth, and here, at least, they speak honestly.
During the I-130 process, we learned that “some expenses are not worth skimping on.” My husband initially handled the filing himself, but when we received the dreaded I-824 “black hole” request for additional evidence—and paid the fee—we still waited endlessly. I insisted that U.S. citizens don’t need to file I-824; the error was ours, and hiring a lawyer right away would have saved us a year and $1,500 in attorney fees.
Although you can self-file I-130, a minor oversight among the mountain of documents can stall you indefinitely. To our shock, the lawyer discovered USCIS had never received our forms. I feared we’d been scammed—yet we’d just hosted a thirty-table wedding covered by the press. If it were a fraud, why make headlines?
The very first theatrical wedding in Taiwan, “Spring River, Flower, Moon, Night,” is my father-in-law’s favorite poem. It was also this curated event that slightly changed his perception of his daughter-in-law and became one of our family’s most cherished memories. | Hilton Taipei
My husband wrote seven pages explaining why I must come to America. Our legal team reassembled everything, and finally, after three years, we were ready to depart. Under that pressure, I gained fifteen kilos—not from jealousy or romance, but from the unique stressors of our situation. Our biggest marital challenge wasn’t infidelity; it was managing my mother-in-law’s expectations.
My mother-in-law, though a lifelong homemaker, earned her college degree after retirement to reclaim her generation’s missed opportunities. My father-in-law, born into a scholarly family, loved tea ceremonies, calligraphy, and reading. With one daughter in France and a son in the U.S., he clung tightly to me until I moved out. My therapist later told me, “No one dislikes you; they simply can’t fully accept a daughter-in-law unlike themselves.”
In such a traditional household, any difference became magnified. Aunts and cousins joined the fray, and I quietly bowed out one Lunar New Year. The blow was hard—my husband sided with his family, shouting at midnight on my birthday, “I’ve tolerated you long enough.” In that moment, I understood that if I wasn’t strong enough, his loyalties would always shift.
For me, I-130 approval isn’t just about the green card. True passage means overcoming self-doubt and moving forward despite uncertainty. He endured me—so I must endure my pride to give my mother a better life and build influence in my new home.
When it was time to book my ticket, he offered a coach seat. I smiled and used years of savings to upgrade to first class. I resolved to treat myself well as I—and my little “Avocado”—embark on this American journey. My father would have been proud, but I owe forgiveness to no one; to forgive others now would only betray myself.
