Two Worlds, One Marriage: The Reality of Being an Asian Female Doctor with a Non-Medical Husband

By Ching Man Carmen Tong, DO

This is a special edition blog post presented in partnership with the Society of Asian Academic Surgeons in celebration of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage (AAPI) Month.

When I was asked to contribute an article for the AWS blog during AAPI month, I thought to myself– what possible musings can I offer to the readers that could be enlightening and potentially useful? Then I realized– I’m not only an Asian woman, and a doctor, but I’m an Asian female doctor married to a white male who works outside the medical profession. It is an experience full of nuance, complexity, and mutual understanding.

To understand our journey and marriage, it is important for me to describe just how different my husband, Brett, and I are. Not only do we come from different cultural backgrounds – I’m Chinese and he’s Irish and Spanish – but we also have very different personalities. Growing up in America as a first-generation immigrant in a conservative Asian household, I’ve been taught to keep my head down and be polite, which has made me more introverted and reserved (with arguably no survival skills if there is an apocalypse). Brett, however, is charismatic and outgoing, with the distinct ability to carry on any conversation during dinner, from the intricacies of beer brewing to how sump pumps work. In the hospital, despite my credentials and training, I often have to confront the usual assumptions: that I’m a nurse, that I’m too young to be the attending, etc. My husband, on the other hand, who works for a major quick-service restaurant chain, moves through the world with a very different experience. He doesn’t get second-guessed in meetings or asked to “prove” his role. He certainly doesn’t have to respond to statements like, “Your English is better than I thought.”

We have many differences, both personally and professionally, but we learned early on to focus on common ground. In a world that often tries to draw lines between identities, we choose instead to celebrate where they intersect. I’d like to share with you 5 key points we have learned to make our unique relationship work:

1. Open and frequent communication, when we’re both emotionally and mentally available. A strong relationship, especially one that spans cultural and professional worlds, requires intentional work. We found that airing our frustrations before they become resentments is essential. We also found that having difficult conversations when I’m tired from work or being on call is unproductive and usually leads to defensive attitudes and anger. Now, we “schedule” these conversations – yes, it sounds cold and calculated – but by allowing for emotional and mental readiness, these “share and repair” sessions let us ask questions and listen with generosity and grace. Whether it’s about career choices, family obligations, or how we divide household responsibilities, we talk early and often.
   
   
2. Set boundaries early on. This sounds like a no-brainer, but I come from a background where expectations run deep and saying “no” feels unnatural. However, cultural and emotional boundaries matter. This applies to my family and my work. My husband has helped me understand that boundaries aren’t walls; they’re tools for protecting our time, energy, and connection. Conversely, I’ve taught him that sometimes, honoring family or pursuing a work passion means going the extra mile – even when it’s temporarily inconvenient.
   
   
3. Find creative solutions for work-life integration. Work-life integration is a constant negotiation. My job bleeds into nights, weekends, and holidays. His world is more structured—9 to 5, predictable deadlines, and paid time off. Our rhythms are different, but we’ve learned to sync where it matters. We plan with intention, guard our time, and extend grace when one of us is overwhelmed. We have a shared calendar, and I adjust my clinic and OR to end when his day ends. I often schedule telehealth visits on days when he works from home, so that I can conduct those visits in our home office and have additional face time with each other.
   
   
4. When it comes to spending time together, quality over quantity. As doctors, we are incredibly attached to our phones and computers: answering the unending number of messages from our patients, reviewing lab results, and prepping for the next day. When it’s after hours and I’m not on call, I now intentionally put my phone away in a different room to be more present and focused on our time together. Before bed, we spend time talking about our day instead of doomscrolling through social media. We have found that 30 minutes of intentional, focused time together provides deeper connections than 3 hours of distracted interaction.
   
   
5. Seek a supportive culture at work. I am exceedingly lucky that my department chair and division chief are both Asian, with the added bonus that my division chief is also female and married to a non-doctor. When I asked for options to adjust my clinical responsibilities to better align with my husband’s ever-changing work travel schedule, instead of asking me to conform to the existing work structure, they helped me brainstorm creative solutions and connected me with colleagues within and outside my institution to provide different perspectives. Having an open dialogue with my superiors provided me with psychological safety to address brewing concerns before they led to resentment and burnout. Now, as I step into the next phase of my career as a mid-career faculty member, I’m feeling more energized and eager to focus on my academic passions while ensuring that my home life continues to thrive.

For me, the differences in profession and culture are actually a reprieve from preconceived societal norms. We can forge our own path and create our own customs and way of life according to what’s important for us. Culturally, we’ve learned to honor our differences while finding harmony in our shared values. Together, we’ve created a fusion of traditions and practices that reflect both our cultures.

Carmen Tong, DO, is a pediatric urologist and director of pediatric robotic surgery at Children’s of Alabama. Dr. Tong did her urology residency at Einstein Healthcare Network in Philadelphia and completed her fellowship in pediatric urology at Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt in Nashville. Dr. Tong’s clinical practice and research is dedicated to sexual and reproductive health in individuals with spina bifida, kidney stones, renal trauma and minimally invasive surgery in children. She is a member of the Urology Care Foundation Technology & Publications Committee, The American Academy of Pediatrics Surgical Advisory Panel Rural Health Workgroup and the American College of Surgeons NSQIP-Pediatric Specialty Advisory Council for Pediatric Urology. She is the chair of the American Urological Association (AUA) Young Urologists Committee and a section editor of the AUA Core Curriculum.