Migration and Loss

Migration involves loss. Even when you’re privileged, as I am, and move of your own free will, as I did, you feel it. Migrants, almost by definition, move with the future in mind. But their journeys inevitably involve excising part of their past. It’s not workers who emigrate but people. And whenever they move they leave part of themselves behind.

Migration is a good thing, so long as it is voluntary. I believe in the free movement of people. But that’s not to say it doesn’t have a price. I have choices that most of the world’s migrants don’t have. I can go back. And I’m happy where I am.

“As migrants we leave home in search of a future, but we lose the past”
Gary Younge

Expats vs. Immigrants

Terminology matters.

As someone who self-identifies as an expat, I felt a little guilty when I read the article “Why are white people expats when the rest of us are immigrants?” in the Guardian. As Mawuna Remarque Koutonin points out, the term “expat” is generally only used for white westerners living abroad. If you are non-white or from a different part of the world, you generally get the label “immigrant.”

At first, when I was thinking about these terms, I objected. I wanted to point out that I identify as an expat because being an immigrant is such a permanent status. I wasn’t an immigrant in Germany — I was living there, but I didn’t plan to stay forever. But I’m still willing to use the term “immigrant” more loosely for other people. Many people who seek legal residence in another country, even if they don’t plan to stay permanently, get that label. The only other category I could think of is for students, who often get the label “international students” when they study abroad.

Christopher DeWolf described it well in his article “In Hong Kong, Just Who Is an Expat, Anyway?” in the Wall Street Journal:

Some arrivals are described as expats; others as immigrants; and some, simply migrants. It depends on social class, country of origin and economic status. But in most cases, the nomenclature is outdated, rooted in a time when voyages involved a one-way ticket on a steamship.

I often feel like most of the world doesn’t understand what it’s like to move to an entirely new country. And in a time when both communication and travel across oceans is more accessible than ever, moving to a new country doesn’t necessarily mean completely giving up ties to your home country. I like the term expat to describe who I am now, but that could change — and I wouldn’t want anyone forcing a label on me that doesn’t seem to fit, just because of where I’m from or how I look.


Jetzt muss ich mich von der sehr schönen Stadt Aachen verabschieden, um in ein anderes Land zu umziehen. Ich wird die bekannte Sehenswürdigkeiten (z.B. den Aachener Dom, die Stadtpark, die Carolus Thermen und das Dreiländereck) aber auch die weniger bekannten Stellen, die ich nach meiner Exploration der Stadt gefunden habe, vermissen.

Ich wird auch meine Freunden hier in Aachen und in die Euregio vermissen. So viele wirklich nette Leute habe ich in Deutschland, die Niederlande und Belgien kennengelernt. Die Tangotänzer, die andere Deutschlerner an der Sprachenakademie, die Wissenschaftler bei RWTH, meine Nachbarin (wirklich ein Engel!) … Obwohl ich bei meiner Ankunft in Deutschland kein Deutsch sprechen konnte, habe ich willkommen gefühlt.

Bin ich jetzt bereit, Deutschland zu verlassen? Jein. Wenn ich mehr Zeit hätte, würde ich besser Deutsch lernen und mehr Leute, wie die nette Freiwillige und Blogger bei WordPress.com, hier in Deutschland kennenlernen. Aber ich freue mich auch auf dieses neue Abenteuer in ein neues Land, und ich hoffe, im Zukunft nach Deutschland zu reisen. Also, tschö, Aachen! Auf Wiedersehen!

Ich bitte, dass ihr meine Deutschfehler entschuldigt! Nach zwei Jahre in Deutschland kann ich viel Deutsch sprechen und schreiben, aber ich habe noch kein gutes Gefühl für die Sprache.