Are you an Expat or an Immigrant?

Expats

The first time I heard the word “expat” was when I was working at Fragomen, one of the largest immigration law firms on the planet, primarily dedicated to corporate immigration law. It mostly processes immigration applications for transferring employees of international companies. It makes sense that the word “expat” would be used in such a setting, since transferring employees only remain in the host country for a few years, with no intention of permanent relocation. Anyhow, the word was new to me, which was odd since I had already been practicing immigration law for over five years.

Having been an immigrant myself, and being familiar with the history of the Americas, the term “immigrant” seemed comprehensive to me. I did not know there was a “fancy” word for it (Anderson, 2019).

Early Experiences in Immigration Law

I started working in immigration law with the International Institute of Buffalo in Buffalo, New York. From that point, I was involved in different projects and programs related to immigrants in Western New York. We did everything: removal proceedings, withholding of removal, family petitions, and asylum cases. At the Volunteer Lawyers Project, we held workshops in a detention facility in Batavia, teaching deportees about their rights during immigration proceedings. I was fortunate to assist people from all over the world—Mexico, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, China, Bhutan, Somalia, Iraq, Angola, England, Canada, Poland—you name it.

At the International Institute of Buffalo, I worked under Michele Henriques, a native of Buffalo who lived in Portugal for over ten years. My mentor was Eugenia Ruiz, an excellent attorney from Colombia. The executive director was Pam Kefi, who had lived in Yemen while in the Peace Corps, and was then living in Haiti. The organization was a melting pot of people from different backgrounds: Daniel from California, Joao from Brazil, Annette with Macedonian roots, Mrs. Frenette from the Philippines, and May from Lebanon. At the Volunteer Lawyers Project, my boss was Sophie from France, whose parents were immigrants from France and Spain, and the executive director was Robert Elardo, a third-generation immigrant from Italy. We were all immigrants (Ngai, 2004).

Buffalo, like many other cities in the U.S., is full of people from somewhere else. The initial European settlers in Buffalo were French, who referred to the area as “beau fleuve,” meaning “pretty river” in French, which later evolved into “Buffalo.” When the French arrived in Western New York, native tribes like the Senecas, Mohawks, and Onondagas were already there. After the French-Indian wars, the Niagara region became part of the British Colonies, bringing an influx of immigrants to the area. Once an independent nation, the U.S. had an immigration policy open to Europeans, and by the turn of the century, waves of European immigrants arrived in the U.S., significantly changing Buffalo’s demographics. Italians, Germans, Irish, and Polish people came in large numbers. In the new millennium, people from Sudan, Bhutan, Iraq, India, Croatia, Thailand, and many other places followed. The history of the U.S. is a history of immigrants, as is the history of many other countries (Lee, 2015).

Expatriates vs. Immigrants

While growing up in Costa Rica, I quickly learned that it was a former Spanish colony, and as such, many people are of Spanish descent. Last names like González, Rodríguez, Álvarez, and Sánchez are common, indicating the presence of Spanish ancestry. Later in Costa Rican history, the arrival of Afro-Caribbean cultures to the Limón area to build the railroad, primarily from Jamaica, added to the country’s cultural diversity. European immigrants from Italy, Poland, and Germany arrived by the turn of the century. Similar trends occurred in other Latin American countries like Brazil and Argentina, and the remainder of the 20th century saw a diverse mix of immigrants, including people from Asia. You can find sizeable Japanese communities in Peru and São Paulo, Lebanese in Central America and Colombia, and Chinese all over the Americas (Castles & Miller, 2009).

The notion of expatriates versus immigrants often comes down to social and economic status. When I started working at Fragomen, I soon realized that “immigrant” was not the appropriate word to refer to those employees being transferred by the companies that hired us. They preferred the term “expat.” Some dictionary definitions of “expatriate” include: “to leave one’s country to live elsewhere” or “living in a foreign land,” while an “immigrant” is defined as “a person who comes to another country to live there.” There is not much difference between the two, but traditionally, “immigrant” has a different connotation (Anderson, 2019).

If you are from the U.S., when you think of immigrants, you might think of Mexicans working in your gardens, cleaning your pool, or cooking your tacos; or you might think of what your great-grandparents did. You likely do not consider that being an immigrant is something you might become. The latter is particularly applicable to transferred employees of multinational companies. When you transfer the VP of Marketing for a multinational company to Chile, that person is not a starving Sicilian arriving at Ellis Island; certainly, he would not think of himself as an immigrant. The most appropriate term would be “expatriate,” particularly if the transfer is for a few years and not permanent (Portes & Rumbaut, 2001).

These companies’ transferees may think they are better than the average immigrant. They are not. They are people of flesh and bones living in another country, which sounds like an immigrant to me. There is certainly a difference between an American ExxonMobil executive living in Buenos Aires and a Bolivian serving tables in San Telmo—the former makes a lot more money. But is that how we are going to measure the quality of people? Being called an expat does not make anyone a better immigrant.

I have been providing immigration services in Costa Rica for over three years. Interestingly, I have noticed that Canadian, European, and U.S. immigrants in Costa Rica call themselves “expats,” not “immigrants.” It appears that in the expat community, the only immigrants are the Nicaraguans and nobody else. Even Colombians and Venezuelans have a hard time acknowledging that they are immigrants—they are just foreigners (Anderson, 2019).

Migration vs. Immigration

I have an issue with the word “immigrant” in the sense that people do not immigrate; people migrate. Like many other species, people move from one place to another. Swallows migrate from North America to South America and from Africa to Europe, back and forth every year. They are considered migratory birds. You never hear an ornithologist talking about “immigratory” birds; they refer to them as migratory birds. So why do we call people immigrants instead of migrants?

In my opinion, the notion of immigration is rooted in the mentality of “us versus them,” where “them” refers to foreigners coming into our land. Researching the origin of the word “immigrant” reveals that it is not easy to determine where it comes from or when it was first used, but many dictionaries allocate its origin in the U.S. in the late 1700s, with Merriam-Webster placing it in 1789—the year the Constitution became effective (Ngai, 2004).

The founding fathers understood that the new nation was created by immigrants. After all, the colonies fighting for independence were constituted by Europeans, but they could not see themselves as an European colony any longer; they were now a whole new nation. This was different from Ontario, Quebec, and Mexico, where allegiance to European powers persisted. As such, they were not immigrants; they were colonizers occupying foreign lands in representation of the motherland (Zolberg, 2006).

Article one of the U.S. Constitution sets forth the requirements for being a representative in Congress, including having been a citizen of the U.S. for at least seven years, which allows the option for immigrants to have a seat in Congress. This was unprecedented at the time. The concept of allegiance was interpreted differently in Europe, where the rights of people were granted based on their relationship to the king as subjects. The U.S. Revolution changed that notion—there were no subjects after independence, only citizens (Huntington, 2004).

Since the dawn of humanity, the notion of “us versus them” has persisted—from territorial disputes between Cro-Magnons and Neanderthals to the modern Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Humans have been loyal to the idea of distancing themselves from other groups that were somewhat different. Europe has a long history of conflict, from the wars of the Hellenistic period to the Roman Empire, the Crusades, and the World Wars. Present-day Europe has not seen a rest from conflict, as evidenced by the ongoing tensions in Ukraine between pro-Russian and Ukrainian forces. The belligerent nature of humans has been present in any time and space—”us versus them” (Foner & Fredrickson, 2004).

The new nation was no different. The lack of empathy for other cultures was inherent in the American tradition. Understanding that the new country was a nation of immigrants translated into having an open-door policy for immigrants—but only as long as we received the immigrants we liked. The Naturalization Act of 1790 limited citizenship to white persons only, excluding black people not because of their race, but because they were not citizens. But only white people could be citizens. Tough luck. Subsequent naturalization laws increased the restrictions for becoming a citizen, but these were naturalization laws, not immigration laws. One of the first U.S. immigration acts was the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. From that moment on, the U.S. created a laundry list of exclusionary immigration laws. The “us versus them” mentality was already ingrained in American culture (Ngai, 2004).

Exclusionary immigration laws are the result of a sense of superiority, the belief that we do not want certain people in our country because they are perceived as inferior. This perspective permeates the concept of “immigrant” with undesirability.

So, if immigrants are beneath us, why would we consider ourselves undesirable when we become immigrants? Easy—let’s not call ourselves immigrants; instead, we will be expatriates.

Segregation and Immigration

The immigration tradition in U.S. history is noteworthy, but there are several issues in the immigration context, as we have reviewed. The perception of immigrants in American culture is one of them, and those perceptions are imported by American immigrants into Latin America and other countries. Americans do not arrive in host countries with the mentality of an immigrant, but that of an expat. This attempt to distance themselves from immigrants is a result of a segregationist and discriminatory mentality against immigrants in their home countries. Canadians and Europeans are also guilty of this practice. The primary issue here is not whether you call yourself an immigrant or an expat—the issue is the mentality of segregation (Anderson, 2019).

Segregation and discrimination are not exclusive to Americans. Every culture is guilty of it. The U.S., despite its flaws, is one of the most tolerant and sensitive countries when it comes to accepting different cultures. More languages are spoken in New York City alone than in all of Europe (Foner & Fredrickson, 2004).

Europeans have a sad history of intolerance. Italians, for instance, have a reputation for poor treatment of African immigrants from Ethiopia and Somalia. Similar behavior is observed in France towards Algerians, in Germany towards Turks, and in Switzerland towards just about anyone. Outside of Europe, this behavior is commonplace: Costa Ricans against Nicaraguans, Dominicans against Haitians, Argentinians against Bolivians, Saudi Arabians against Filipinos, Kenyans against Sudanese—the list goes on. Discrimination is not only directed at foreign nationals; it also exists within domestic groups. White Mexicans discriminate against indigenous people, and the same situation occurs in Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay. In Africa, discrimination by Arabic Sudanese against Bantus resulted in genocide and the creation of the new country of South Sudan. In Bhutan, Buddhist nationals have pushed Bhutanese Christians into exile in Nepal. In recent decades, we have witnessed genocides in Zaire, East Timor, Yugoslavia, Iraq, and many other places (Castles & Miller, 2009).

These tragedies are the result of the “us versus them” mentality, which persists in expat communities. It is interesting how immigrants segregate and ostracize themselves. I attended law school at the University of New York in Buffalo, a very liberal school with students from all over the world. At the same time, it was very segregated—different nationalities, ethnicities, and religions formed their own clusters and mingled only with themselves. People did not try to integrate. The saying “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” comes to mind—people should integrate into their new communities. While celebrating diversity and embracing one’s heritage is important, when relocating to another city or country, one should also embrace the host culture and traditions (Alba & Nee, 2003).

Life and work have allowed me to meet people from all over the world, and I am proud of that. It is certainly easier when you speak another language. In Costa Rica, I know many people from other countries, and Latin Americans have an easier time adjusting since they speak the language. However, I see people from the U.S., Canada, and Europe being more distant from Costa Rican culture. While various factors contribute to this, as long as they continue to call themselves expats, they are not ready to embrace their new home, which will make it more difficult for them to adapt—especially considering that Costa Ricans do not have a progressive mentality towards foreigners (Lee, 2015).

Wherever you decide to move, it becomes your new home. There is no need to call yourself an expat or an immigrant for that matter. Now, you are from Costa Rica—embrace it.