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Katy Nightingale is an ecosocialist, artist, activist, vagabond and public health professional. This column was produced for Progressive Perspectives, a project of The Progressive magazine, and distributed by Tribune News Service.
In April 2023, I moved to Wellington, New Zealand. As a U.S. citizen, I had reached a point where I felt that the politics of my country were no longer a good fit for the life that I wanted to live. A year later, I moved back.
My experience as an expatriate is, I think, instructive — and perhaps of value to those who find themselves Googling things like “How to move to Canada from the U.S.” in the aftermath of the Nov. 5 election. I understand the urge, and I advise using caution.
The first thing to keep in mind is that the uncertainty of immigration processes can stretch on for months, sometimes years. Do not underestimate the impact this will have on your well-being.
When I arrived in New Zealand on a temporary one-year work visa, I had enough “points” to apply for long-term residency. A few months later, the requirements had changed. I now needed a job offer from an “accredited employer,” which was very unlikely due to cuts in my job field by the newly elected conservative New Zealand government. Every day for the rest of the year, I stressed over my options.
Being an immigrant is lonely. Moving to a new country in my early 30s, I found that most folks my age had already solidified their friend groups, paired off, sunk into routines or started families.
Despite all my experience abroad — I have also lived in Jordan, the United Kingdom, Iraq and Ukraine — it soon became apparent how much I’d internalized American behavior, leading me to feel insecure in many of my new circumstances. Wherever you go, it is likely that your ideas about socialization and friendship will not align with local norms. Over time you can adapt, but be prepared to feel isolated until that happens.
It’s also important to consider what and whom you are leaving behind. Leaving a country that is heading in the wrong direction creates a void that will eagerly be filled by those who are leading it astray. It might improve things for you, but what about those who don’t have the option to move?
Perhaps the hardest lesson is that there are no utopias. New Zealand stands out as progressive in many ways, but it still has to reckon with its colonial past. As a non-Māori person, I had to be mindful of my role in this process. I learned to recite my mihi mihi (traditional introduction of oneself), took a course on Te Tiriti (the document signed between the Māori people and the British government), and attended Māori-led demonstrations. But it’s hard to say whether my presence was beneficial or even desired by the Indigenous people, a group who never ceded sovereignty.
Regardless of what country you move to, your presence won’t be without effect. Expat influxes frequently contribute to inequalities such as gentrification. In countries that have been negatively affected by U.S. policies, an influx of Americans can feel akin to an occupation.
Now that I am back in the United States I’m looking forward to building a life, not running away from an old one.
For those who are on the fence about leaving, I would suggest a serious consideration of the alternatives. Find others organizing in your community who can make you feel more secure, and more rooted. Look especially for those who can’t leave, as they are often the ones most committed to making their communities livable.
Maybe you will realize that what you need can be found around you, right in the place where you live.
