Team Aseulu. Fernanda Fan. Olga the Angle. If those phrases mean anything to you, then we have something in common: We watch 90 Day Fiancé.
I stumbled upon the show by accident and found it hard to look away. Who can flip the channel when Asuelu, a 23-year-old from Samoa, is about to perform a half-naked welcome dance in the middle of LAX? What can be more interesting than watching Fenanda, a Mexican teenager, singlehandedly shut down discussion about the border wall? I have looked upon the Scandinavian furniture store from which Leida wishes to purchase a sectional sofa and I must know: Will she have her inevitable meltdown on the showroom floor or in the parking lot?
TLC has the reality TV formula down to a science. It’s equal parts sex and stupidity, plus a touch of opulence. The producers find the humor, manufacture the drama, and then, just for good measure, throw in a woman on a Vespa. I’d say the show is one dragon short of a true hit, but, then again, there’s Leida, always fuming over something, like an insufficient number of flower arrangements or her stepdaughter being alive. You know what they say: Hell hath no fury like a woman who learns of American child support laws.
But, if I’m being honest, my fascination with the show goes beyond pure entertainment. I watch for a completely different reason, that being I identify with the fiancés. Having relocated to Finland one year ago to be with a man I met while passing through Helsinki the year before that, I have lived a modified version of their journey. During that time, I have struggled in much the same way they do: to make friends and learn a new language and use the metric system. I have, in almost every sense, started over. It’s a struggle and unless you’ve done it yourself, I don’t think it’s possible to understand how challenging it can be to be alone in a new country, forced to communicate like a six-year old with people who are, at best, highly skeptical of your intentions.
And so, I feel for Fernanda when she arrives in North Carolina and immediately finds a thong in her partner Jonathan’s closet. I have sympathy when she melts down again two months later because Jonathan takes his time at happy hour while she sits at home for, by his own estimation, a 15-hour stretch. I feel a pang of empathy for Larissa, the Brazilian hothead, off-putting as she is, when she asks for flowers at the airport and her fiancé,Colt, responds by telling her the cost of his parking ticket. I even sympathize with Leida when she shows up at Eric’s rank apartment and realizes that the sofa will need to be inflated daily.
The editing team at TLC has done a good job of framing these women as greedy, immature brats, prone to overreacting. As an audience, we are led to believe that they should count their blessings. Their ticket to America has been arranged and paid for by generous benefactors and they have no right to expect so-called extras, like flowers and fidelity. Who are they to lash out about “little things?”
What the show fails to capture is that these women have already done the “big things.” They have left their families and friends, their homes and jobs. They have learned the language and packed their lives into two suitcases and found the courage to start over. The only things left to do now are “small things” like cleaning the apartment and buying a box spring. Sometimes, when these women cry over underwear or being late, I don’t think it’s a matter of being immature or greedy. It is because they are profoundly disappointed that the people they picked cannot handle the basics. These women are learning that their partners aren’t exactly living up to their reasonable expectations. I’d cry too.
In fact, I have cried over similar things. I was mad when I showed up in Finland after nearly 24 hours of traveling and received a text that my boyfriend would be “a few minutes late.” I got madder when I arrived home that evening to find the kitchen without groceries and dishes in the sink. I became irate when I saw that my boyfriend made space in the closet for my clothes by simply pushing all of his belongings to one side. There was not a single free hanger available and if I wasn’t so tired, I would have lost it right then and there about all these “little things.” Instead, I waited until morning to explain that his failing to do the small stuff adds up to quite a big problem.
But the good thing about little problems is that they’re relatively easy to fix. Luckily my boyfriend saw my point and it’s been fairly smooth sailing ever since. He agreed to change those few small things and I went on doing all the big stuff, like living out of a suitcase and applying for residency.
Perhaps I have the guts to be so blunt because I am not dependent on my boyfriend. I came to Europe with a well-paying job and a college education and several trips around the world under my belt. I don’t need him to co-sign applications or sponsor me or marry me. I can pay my bills as well as his, if need be. For me, the stakes are low. If this relationship bottoms out over a lack of hangers, then I will just go back to doing what I did before, standing on my own two feet wherever I feel like putting them.
Unfortunately for most of the couples on 90 Day Fiancé, that is not the situation. The people moving to America are, by and large, dependent on their partners. They have poured everything into their new lives and now they have very few options for the future. When they argue with their partners over supposed “little things” like sleeping on a twin sized mattress or not wanting to live with Colt’s mother, they don’t have much leverage. They have little left to give and even less to which they could return.
The American fiancés all know this and they prey upon it. Almost every disagreement the couples have includes a threat: Give in, or I will send you back. It takes a special breed of insecurity to trot out some variation of this ultimatum week after week and yet, here we are: Ashley tells Jay that he can’t go to McDonald’s without her permission; Asuelu holds his baby with one hand instead of two and it is grounds for break up; Larissa reacts in any way whatsoever to Colt’s family members calling her a bitch and it earns her a one-way ticket back to Brazil.
Even if these Americans have a point, it’s hard to see it since they’re building their case on intimidation and clout. Having a higher credit limit doesn’t make them right. Paying the bills doesn’t give them the moral high ground.
Like most couples, the ones on 90 Day Fiancé squabble over money. Again, we’re meant to be repulsed any time they want to purchase anything, from a very reasonable full-size mattress to a $2400 wedding dress. Friends and family members make a big deal about these purchases, snidely asking about price tags and costs as though they are the ones footing the bill.
As an audience, we are supposed to cheer these busybodies on, applauding them for attempting to micromanage someone else’s finances on national TV. We are supposed to see them as the voice of reason, as though it is reasonable for a woman to get married without a dress or engagement ring. I’m supposed to fault Larissa for grabbing at Colt’s money, but ignore the fact that his live-in mother, Debbie, seems to do the same. As long as we’re asking rude questions, I have a few: Once upon a time, how much did Debbie spend on her wedding dress? Who paid for it? At any point during the process did someone drop her off at Goodwill and tell her to make it work?
90 Day Fiancé makes it clear that any couple has their fair share of problems. But as the season draws to a close, the show also makes a larger point: the K-1 visa process itself is deeply flawed.
The 90-day window is meant to cut back on fraud, ensuring only the most serious couples are allowed to wed and stay together in the U.S. But, as the show proves, it seems to do just the opposite. The expedited timeframe is like a ticking bomb, forcing people into a decision that has lasting implications for them, their families and even the rest of the country. Give people a year and I wonder if all the couples would still choose to get married. Judging by how quickly some of them seem to implode after the wedding, I doubt it. Most of the people who appear to be getting married for the wrong reasons are always working against a short-term deadline of three measly months. They shine for those few weeks, collect the prize and then move on. I don’t see the downside to making them wait longer, as long as they want, even – to see if they can handle the big problems and all the little ones too.
I’ve never seen the show and this post is the first thing I’ve ever read about it. I didn’t even really know what it was about, but was deeply put off by the title which made it seem like this was some kind of arranged marriage situation. After reading your post it sounds like these people were already couples and are going through the Visa process.
You make a damn good point at the end about the flaw in this system. There is a big difference between LDRs and living with someone. You can be in a LDR with someone for a decade, visiting frequently, and still find when you move in with that person they’re completely different than what you expected. It’s completely unrealistic to expect people to be able to say that they’re compatible with someone after only living with them for three months. I understand the concern over fraud, but I would think having these marriages happen so quickly and approve the visa, just to have them implode later would be a much bigger problem because ultimately now you have happening exactly what they want to prevent: people coming to the US and getting quickie-married, getting their visa, and then getting divorced and continuing to live in the US.
EXACTLY. The 90 day period is meant to raise the stakes and only let in people who are in “real” relationships. But it seems people just get quickie married and then go about their business as single people. I’m not an expert on immigration, but it seems like most of the people who come on this visa cannot legally work, meaning they can’t “steal” jobs. They can use public resources like schools and libraries, but don’t get any financial assistance, as far as I know. So I guess I don’t understand the real conflict in giving them at least a year to make the choice. Seems it would cut down on the problem better than the existing rule.