uwenavue Santé Johnson and Joseph Carrillo first met in San Francisco when they lived a block apart.
But that arrangement didn’t last. They have now been married for 17 years, and have lived 3,000 miles apart for the majority of the time.
Johnson lives in Old City, where she works as a senior hand embroiderer for the Defense Logistics Agency, making presidential flags (she and her coworkers are considered the “Betsy Rosses of the 21st century”). Carrillo, a photographer and filmmaker, still lives in San Francisco and works for the city.
When the two initially met in 2006, they quickly recognized a kinship: they were both artists with day jobs from old California families. They loved to travel, and each had a particularly independent streak.
As they became closer, moving in together and then marrying, they settled on a guiding principle: every six years, they would check in to see if their relationship was still working well for both of them. If not, there would be “no questions asked if you decided to leave,” Johnson, 53, said.
In 2015, Johnson snagged her dream job in Philadelphia. She moved here and Carrillo stayed behind; both thought they might live apart for a year or two.
“We basically played it month to month,” Johnson recalled.
But then the years passed.
Each maintains a rented apartment in their respective city, and visits the other often. Carrillo considered moving to Philadelphia, but didn’t find work he was excited about. They do not date other people — “that never even crossed my mind,” Carrillo said. They were apart during COVID, checking in on Zoom daily.
They have adapted to changing circumstances: Johnson is a three-time breast cancer survivor and went through her most recent treatment last August. Carrillo took time off from his job and stayed with her in Philadelphia for roughly five months. Once she had recovered, they went back to their long-distance routine.
“It was like, ‘OK, how are we going to move this forward so that we can both become independent again?’” Johnson said.
The following, as told to Zoe Greenberg in separate interviews, has been edited for length and clarity and combined.
On being wrong from the start
Duwenavue: One of my clients at the hair salon wanted to introduce me to her friend. She told Joseph that I was Asian, and she told me that he was Black. It turns out I’m Black, and he’s Asian. She got it wrong. It started off as a joke — because when we met, everything was already wrong.
Joseph: I had a sense that she was an independent person and really passionate about what she did.
Duwenavue: I knew he only lived a block away from me, and I have this rule that I don’t date anybody in my neighborhood. There needs to be some space, just in case it doesn’t work out.
On developing an unconventional relationship
Joseph: As our relationship developed, she moved in with me. But the day she moved out of her apartment, before moving into mine, she went on a trip to Thailand. So the first three months of our living together, she was on the other side of the world. I had mixed emotions about that. But then, so long as I accept the way she is, and she travels and has that independence, I know she also does the same for me.
Duwenavue: I wanted to go into the relationship like, “I didn’t trap you into anything.” I had my career when we met. He had his career. As long as we’re both doing art and doing what we love, we feel like that allows us to stay together.
On deciding to move 3,000 miles away
Duwenavue: We didn’t have a whole conversation about it. When I got the job, we were on a delayed honeymoon in Thailand. I had to literally go shopping in Thailand to buy clothes to start my job that Monday. I had to leave him on our honeymoon.
I said, “I’ll meet you in San Francisco when I have a holiday and we can figure out what we’re doing.” I was so excited that I got to do what I love, and that he supported me. I didn’t feel like I had to fear anything.
Joseph: I was 100% behind the job that she got in Philadelphia, because I knew it would help her with her art career.
On keeping in touch
Duwenavue: I probably talk to him four to five times a day. He eats lunch when I have dinner. So sometimes he’ll ask me, “What are you having for dinner?” And then he’ll make the same dinner that night.
I miss him. I’m always trying to write grants and do projects where we both get to be together. If he’s working on a film about water rights, then I’ll try to do workshops in that same town.
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On being guests in each other’s homes, as husband and wife
Duwenavue: Since we don’t have kids, we don’t share bank accounts, so we still have our own money. When he comes to visit me in Philly, he’s my guest, and so I pay all the bills. And then when I’m in San Francisco, he pays all the bills.
We both love traveling. We see each other almost every six weeks, for about three or four days, and then every quarter one of us travels and takes our vacation time.
On the surprising benefits of living apart
Duwenavue: In San Francisco, we would only see each other for maybe two hours a day and then maybe on the weekends, because our schedules were so different.
So if you really look at how much quality time you have with a person — rather than the time you have to spend shopping, doing laundry, cleaning the house — we actually spend more quality time together now because we each manage our own house.
Joseph: One of the things that developed in our long-distance relationship is that we talk more. The calls don’t have to be about anything.
Living apart is kind of even more romantic. The times we’re physically together are more passionate, more important. And we meet in different cities, whether in Europe or Asia. Instead of me just coming to visit you, let’s go meet in Paris.
On the hardships of long-distance, long-term marriage
Joseph: The challenge is not being face-to-face. If you have something to talk about, it’s a little bit harder not being together. And then also, when she was either not feeling well or having a bad day, I wasn’t there to comfort her physically.
But it isn’t as challenging as it might have been if we were in our 20s. At least from my perspective, there’s no jealousy or anything like that. I trust her.
Duwenavue: I freak out more often because of uncertainties: What happens if one of us gets stranded, or if there’s a flood? What if something happens to my husband and I’m not there?
On what comes next
Duwenavue: If he said, “Hey, I need you to come home now, that was a fun art residency you did”— I’d come home.
We’re not separate to have separate lives. We’re separate because this is where our jobs are. This is how we can actually stay independent and do what we love.
This story is part of a new series about life partners across the Philadelphia area.
If you want to share your story about who you’re navigating life with, romantically or otherwise, write to lifepartners@inquirer.com. We won’t publish anything without speaking to you first.
