Nine Months

Yesterday, I opened the below email from Skype:

I haven't needed to call my husband from the other side of the Atlantic in nine months. Can you believe that? After more than two years of being in a long distance relationship, our greatest current communication problems revolve around whose turn it is to clean the bathroom.

It's amazing how quickly we forget the details of past experiences. A few blog friends are going through their own visa processes right now - Robin and Sara Louise especially could use all the good thoughts you have - and sometimes I read their updates and I think, "Was it really this complicated for us?" And then something totally mundane like this, an automatic email from Skype, reminds me that yes, it was that complicated.

The other weekend, Jon and I were out on a walk with Charlie. We meandered our way through the residential streets of Woodley Park to Wylie Wagg for some dog food, which Jon carried in a reusable shopping bag as we walked back across the Duke Ellington Bridge towards Adams Morgan. We swung a left at Columbia from Calvert and, as we approached the Safeway, Jon reminded me that we were out of milk. In one seamless move, I passed Charlie's leash to Jon and he handed me the reusable bag; we sidestepped each other neatly and exchanged a quick kiss. Jon and Charlie continued towards home, our clever dog not even aware of the little dance we'd done, and, as I turned into the grocery store, a man who had been walking towards us smiled at me. "Now that's teamwork," he said.

And I thought to myself, "That's what we went through the visa process for. Not just for big life milestones, but for that. Teamwork."

We're Together

photo by Tarah Coonan

Last week, I read a fantastic post on Angloyankophile about surviving a long-distance relationship.  It threw me right back to our own transatlantic struggle, when we couldn't see a clear end to our separation and we felt like the first year of our marriage was slipping away without us.  (Remember this post from May?  Oof, dear readers.)  As I scrolled through the raw comments JT's readers had left, I felt an overwhelming sense of camaraderie with everyone who has endured and is enduring what we went through.  There's no "easy' when you're long distance - one situation isn't worse than another - but being kept apart from someone you love by law rather than by personal, professional, or academic choice adds a different dimension to your relationship that only others who have researched the acronyms of immigration can understand.

And the word we use, though it might sound hyperbolic, really is "survive."  I can't imagine what it must be like to wait at home while your partner is serving in a conflict zone, his or her life literally on the front line, but the constant and seemingly-unending stress of an internationally enforced long-distance relationship is traumatic enough.

I bring that up tonight because I've been drafting a post about how Jon and I are doing - you know, what it's like living together after more than two years apart - and it always comes back to this: we're together, and that's something neither of us will ever take for granted.  Our years of long distance are part of the DNA of our relationship; having been separated puts everything we deal with side by side in perspective.

Of course, marriage is hard.  I don't think anyone is under any illusions about how happiness is a choice, doubly so if you're sharing it with someone else.  But it's a choice that Jon and I make together every single day even in the smallest things we do because we remember when it wasn't an option available to us.  As JT wrote, "Our long-distance relationship, while in the past, continues to influence and shape our future."

No matter what's going on, we're together.  And that's amazing.

He's Bona Fide

I guess all of our American activities this weekend - pumpkin picking yesterday and an NFL game today - paid off, because Jon and I came back to our apartment this evening after two days at my parents' house to find that his green card had arrived!

Jon's visa, put into his passport by the US Embassy in London, stood in for his green card, which we were told could take up to six months to arrive.  But it's here now and it's valid until September 2016, when he applies to change his status from conditional to permanent.  Woohoo!  Now we just have to wait for him to be assigned a social security number...

Expat Discussions: Health Insurance

Over the summer, when things started really moving with Jon's visa and we were finally confident that he'd be in the States sooner rather than later, we had a long Skype about finances.  We'd talked through the abstracts before - what might get put into and taken out of joint accounts, why we should keep individual accounts, which sort of long-term savings plans might be useful, and the like - but, with the deadline for open enrollment with the health insurance that my employer offers approaching, we needed to discuss specifics.

It quickly became clear, though, that Jon and I were speaking in two different languages.  Jon's vocabulary comes from the dictionary of the NHS, whereas mine was firmly rooted in the American system; we realized only a few minutes into the conversation that we needed to start with the basics if we were both to play an educated role in the decision-making process.  Over the course of that call, I explained co-pays, deductibles, out-of-network versus in-network providers - concepts Jon had never needed to consider before.  It was all so foreign to Jon that he asked tons of questions that I'd never thought about before, and I had to do research myself to answer him!  It was, needless to say, quite an education for both of us.

To be honest, I had half-expected Jon to be blasé about choosing health insurance since he wasn't used to putting much thought or energy into obtaining it, but, luckily, he was totally invested in the process.  We researched our benefit options thoroughly (a 2013 Aflac survey found that nearly half of millennials spent 30 minutes or less preparing for and selecting benefits, but we came back to the topic over and over again until we were both comfortable) and added Jon to my plan starting August 1st even though we knew he wouldn't arrive until sometime in early autumn.  It was that or wait until until next August, and that's a risk we just weren't willing to take!

We're still, along with the majority of our peers, in a delicate position when it comes to budgeting for our health, especially given that Jon doesn't yet have a full-time job in the States.  Millennial workers' finances are precarious; 46% are not at all or not very prepared to pay for out-of-pocket expenses associated with a serious illness or injury, and 72% at least somewhat agree that they regularly underestimate the total cost of an injury or illness.  Like many respondents in the 2014 Aflac WorkForces Report, Jon and I are optimistic that we'll never have major health concerns, but we both know that, realistically, something could happen to either of us at anytime and an investment in our healthcare is an investment in our future together.

I was selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls Collective and the content and opinions expressed here are all my own.

Visa Process Drinking Game

from Jon's FB event page

After a year of our visa process moving at a glacial pace, I'm totally thrown by how everything has accelerated in the past week!  I can't even imaging how Jon feels given that he's the one going through a huge life transition.  Since his successful visa interview on September 4, he's wrapped up his various professional projects, passed on his lease to a friend, arranged collection of boxes for shipping, begun packing his suitcases, organized his own leaving do at a favorite pub - and, of course, picked up his passport, a shiny visa pasted inside it, and booked his one-way flight to DC.

Feeling a bit dizzy yet?  We certainly are!  In some ways it feels like the visa process has secretly been part of a Monty Python sketch.  I won't be at all be surprised if I spotted John Cleese doing a silly walk through International Arrivals when I go to Dulles next Friday.

If you're surprised that we were never, in fact, in communication with the Redundant Department of Redundancy, you might like the drinking game that my friend Liz invented at my birthday dinner party.  Three of the eight of us gathered in my living room that night had intimate knowledge of immigration procedures, and at one point the conversation was overtaken by a heated discussion on US visa policies.  I was mid-sentence when I heard Liz giggle into her wine glass and then take a gulp.  We all looked at her, confused.  Who knew that the DS-260 was so funny?

In her infinite wisdom, Liz had decided the only appropriate response to the absurdity of the visa process was drinking.  I emailed her after the party to make sure I understood the rules of her game so I could share them with you, and here's how she replied:

Impromptu Visa Drinking Game: drink every time someone says a ridiculous name for a form, like an E270RKD, or an agency, like the Office of American Wife Proof.

Voila, dear readers; there you have it.  Should you find yourself in conversation with someone applying for a visa or going through immigration shenanigans, remember the Impromptu Visa Drinking Game.  In particular, keep an ear out for these words, forms, and phrases, all of which are too familiar to Jon and me:

I-129F

I-130

I-485

I-797

I-864

G-325
DS-260

K3

USCIS

NCV

UKBA

CBP

Affidavit of Support

Notice of Approval

Adjustment of Status

Green Card

Of course, please play this game responsibly.  It could be dangerous if you find yourself in the company of frustrated expats and hopeful expats - as you know, we can go on and on about it all!

Spousal Visa Timeline and Lessons

at a friend's wedding in Sussex; July 2013

After more than two years of long-distance, Jon and I have an end date: September 19.  Next Friday, after 841 days of being in a transatlantic relationship, Jon will board a flight in London, a one-way ticket in his hand, and he'll immigrate to the United States of America.

There are absolutely steps we could have taken to be reunited sooner.  We could have married in secret at City Hall in the States before our real wedding in England, we could have had a shorter engagement, we could have had our visa application ready to submit the day I returned to DC from our honeymoon, we could brought Jon over on a fiancé visa and wed in America... there are a dozen things we could have done differently.  And, in hindsight, there are some decisions we definitely would have made differently.  But I think it's really important for me to say that, given the decisions we did make, the system worked the way it's supposed to.

That isn't to say that the system isn't totally absurd.  It is.  But the system worked - the process worked - the way we were told it would.  As I've admitted before, much of our frustration about how long it all was taking was due to our own misunderstanding.  And I think we fell victim to the same assumption that so many of our friends and family members have: this should be easy because we're married.

If I have any advice for couples in transatlantic relationships who are considering applying for a relationship-based visa, it would be to learn from this fundamental mistake.  You have to accept from day one that the process isn't easy and it isn't quick.  If you do apply for the I-130, it almost certainly will take close to a year before the visa is granted, as they predict it will.  There's no way to be prepared for the strain that will place on your relationship if you're on opposite sides of the pond throughout the process - at least, I don't think there was any way we truly could have understood it before we were in the midst of it - but know that you will be stronger when you come out on the other side.

We're not naïve; we know that the next chapter of our marriage will have its own obstacles.  After all, we haven't lived together for over two years!  But, twelve and a half months after we exchanged rings, we've learned more about ourselves and about each other and about our relationship because of this visa process than we would have in twice the time otherwise, and that is truly invaluable.

Oct 29 2013: submitted I-130 to USCIS

Nov 17 2013: received I-797 (receipt confirmation) from USCIS

Apr 17 2013: I-130 approved by USCIS

Apr 22 2014: received I-797 (notice of approval) from USCIS

Apr 29 2014: NVC received I-130 materials from USCIS (confirmed by phone)

Jun 5 2014: application put into processing at the NVC (confirmed by phone)

Jun 22 2014: notice that our I-129F was withdrawn from consideration due to the approval of our I-130

Jul 7 2014: notice that our I-130 has been transferred to London (confirmed by email)

Aug 14 2014: medical appointment in London

Aug 21 2014: interview at US Embassy in London scheduled for September 4

Sep 4 2014: Jon's visa is granted at his interview

Sep 10 2014: notified by email that Jon's passport will be ready for collection on September 12

Sep 11 2014: Jon books his flight to America

Sep12 2014: Jon retrieves his passport

Sep 19 2014: Jon will expatriate to DC

As always, if you're going through a similar visa process (or considering starting one), please feel free to email me!  I'm happy to provide more details, amateur suggestions, and a virtual shoulder to lean on if you need it.

Spousal Visa Success!

photo credit: Tarah Coonan

At 4:38am this morning, after a frustratingly restless night, I woke up to a call from Jon.

"Morning, baby!"  He sounded supremely cheerful for a man who'd been sitting in a waiting room for an hour and a half.  "I've just come from my visa appointment and..."

That's when I started shrieking.

Jon was granted his visa!  My husband is moving to America to be with me!

Pause, please, for another shrieking break.

Okay, good.  I think I have that out of my system for the moment.

So yes!  What happens now, you ask?  Well, Jon had to leave his passport with the US Embassy so the visa can be inserted, and he'll get an email from a courier service in about 10 days saying it's ready.  (The message board I've informally relied on throughout this process makes it seem like most people get their passports back in less than a week, so I'm assuming the official 10 day estimate is just cautious.)  Once he has his passport and his immigration packet, he'll be on a flight to DC!

Jon might actually arrive before summer is technically over.  Can you believe it?  I'll get to live with the man I love for the first time in years!  Yay!

One Year Anniversary

photo by Tarah Coonan

I've been super sappy on this blog recently, so I'll keep this post short and sweet!  Jon and I celebrated our wedding one year ago today surrounded by our nearest and dearest and, though the past 365 days have set us some unusual challenges, I've felt lucky to be his wife at every moment along the way.

This anniversary is a little less bittersweet than it might otherwise be (given that we're not together) because we were notified last week that Jon's been granted an interview date at the US Embassy in London.  Assuming everything goes well, he should have his visa by mid-September and will be moving over before the end of the month.  There's finally a light at the end of the tunnel!

In honor of that and of our anniversary, I wanted to relive a couple of elements of our ceremony here now: one of the readings we chose, read by Jon's cousin Rose, and a recording of a Handel duet, sung by two of our incredibly talented friends as we signed the register.  Sharing these very intimate pieces is the most appropriate way I can think of to thank you all for supporting Jon and me through this character-building year and for all of your encouragement as we prepare to truly begin our life together.  So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you!

The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very inferior to her own.—"Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitiful business!"—But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.

- an excerpt from Emma by Jane Austen

Thoughts On August

Welcome to August, the month in which bloggers’ yearning for autumn, which has been pitched at a gentle whine for weeks, works itself up to a fevered roar.

I feel differently. I want it to stay summer forever. I love autumn as much as the next boot-wearing, pashmina-wrapping, and chai-drinking 20something, but I’m not ready to admit that this summer is almost over because Jon’s arrival is still nowhere in sight.

We’ve been wrong every time we’ve guessed when he might be able to expatriate. First we thought March, when we misunderstood the difference between the petition being approved and the visa being granted; then we thought June, when we assumed the I-129F would come through first; since then, once the I-130 was sent on from USCIS, we’ve been saying August. “Before the end of the summer,” we’ve assured ourselves and everyone who’s asked. “Jon will be here by autumn.” But it would be a miracle the likes of which the State Department has never before experienced if Jon’s visa were granted in the next few weeks. I know everyone – members of our family, close friends, casual acquaintances, strangers we meet at dinner parties - asks how things are going because they care and are concerned for us, but here's the reality they aren't really prepared to hear:

We’re miserable. We’re miserable and there’s very little we can do about it.

Yes, I know our situation could be worse. I really do know that, I promise, and I know that this whole post is, like I said yesterday, a a self-indulgent wallow. I’m not writing it to gain sympathy – I know I have from you it no matter how hard I smile and promise you that it’s fine and we’re fine and everything will be fine in the end, and that does help a little. But, in a bit more detail, here’s the reality:

Jon and I have been long distance for 797 days. In that time, we’ve spent a total of nine weeks together, most of which fell before our wedding. The vast majority of our first year of marriage will have been spent on opposite sides of an ocean.

The average cost of a non-stop roundtrip ticket from Washington to London is about $1,000. Unless you get really lucky, the cheapest flights start at $700 and it’s almost impossible to find a flight for less than $1,200 each at peak times (like August and Christmas, when we’re most likely to travel given family/work schedules).

Even without visiting each other, the financial consequences of being in a long-distance relationship are difficult to budget for given that we don’t know how long our situation will last. And even with the visits, the demands we’re placing on our families is unquantifiable; both Jon and I have been forced to rely on our parents and sisters for support, both practical and emotional. We should be able to draw strength from leaning on each other, but instead we feel dependent on everyone around us and it's taking a toll on our relationship as a result.

If autumn comes and Jon still isn’t here, we’ll have spent nine seasons apart. We’ll have missed our first wedding anniversary together, plus four out of five birthdays. All of our guesses about when he’d arrive and how hard this whole experience would be will have proven woefully inadequate. So summer, my plea to you is this: stay. Please, August, last a very long time. We can move into autumn once Jon gets here, but until then let it still be summer.

It's Been Four Years

early July 2010; on the beach in Aldeburgh, Suffolk

Four years ago yesterday, I drove to Dulles with my parents, my mother tearing up in the front seat, and we hugged goodbye at security.  Four years ago today, I landed at Heathrow, Jon waiting for me at International Arrivals, and I moved to London.

I'd moved to London before, in September 2008, but that trip, as far as we were aware at the time, had an end date.  My MA was only a year long, which meant that I'd be back in DC sometime the following summer or fall.  This trip, as far as we were aware at the time, didn't have an end date.  Here's how I explained my reasons for expatriating in my very first (and, strangely, extremely formal) post here:

My travels, therefore, have not been the result of a longing to be elsewhere. Rather, they have been the result of a longing to find a home. I certainly love my parents’ house just outside of Washington, DC, but recently I’ve been feeling pulled more and more by the need to make my own home. That pull is tugging me to London.

 There are several reasons I accept London. First and foremost, the city is a good fit for me; after living there for a year while studying for my Master’s degree from September 2008 until September 2009 I know that I can thrive there. Second, my chosen career path is exploding in the UK; I currently work in development at an arts organization, and as Europe begins to assume the American tradition of philanthropy my experience will hopefully prove useful. Third and last, but certainly not least of these reasons, is my boyfriend Jon; the success of our relationship ultimately depends on us actually being together.

I always mentioned the romantic aspect at the end, as if moving for love was something to be ashamed of but, as everyone knows, it was really Jon that brought me back to London.  Now, four years later, he's preparing to move to the United States for me.

We do talk about moving back to England eventually.  Not any time soon - maybe in ten years, but who knows?  Even I, planner of life extraordinaire, am resigned to the fact that there are too many unknowns to even think about plotting out our return now.  We don't know where we'll be in our careers or what the job situation will look like on either side of the pond a decade from now, we don't know how our family will have grown by the time we're in our mid-30s or what our (potential) children's educational needs will be, and we don't know if other relationships will keep us in the States or call us to England as our grandparents and parents age.  Most frustratingly, in a way, we don't know what the immigration requirements will be to settle in the UK when we are ready to move back and if we'll be able to meet them.

Of course this isn't something we should be worrying about now and I don't, mostly.  I am completely happy in Washington and I can't wait for Jon to get his visa so we can make our first married home together here.  Neither Jon nor I will put our lives on hold while we're in DC; we will be fully here, deepening our roots in this town personally and professionally, for years to come.  But this morning, four years to the day from when I moved to London for the second time, I do wonder what the third (and probably final) expatriation might look like.

Professional Languages

that mug is from Queen Elizabeth II's Silver Jubilee in 1977!

Now that I'm back in the theatre world, employed at an organization that feels very much like the one at which I worked in London, I've found myself slipping back into some of the professional mannerisms that I picked up across the pond.  The most notable are in my writing; I have to remind myself regularly that "organisation" is spelled with a "z" in the United States and that it's okay to say "upcoming season" rather than "forthcoming season," which was always corrected by one of my old bosses.  Another fundraiser I worked with in England would often write "hugely grateful" when thanking donors, which I wouldn't dare use in Washington, though I have spread "I do hope" and "please do let me know" to one of my current colleagues in DC already.  My job description is more or less the same now as it was in London but the language isn't always!

(I really hate it when Americans claim to have picked up British accents after living in England - especially since there is no such thing as a British accent - but much of what I write for my job is applicable only in a professional context and so I have very little personal, and therefore entirely American, history of using those words and phrases.)

Some words do have direct equivalents on either side of the pond; for instance, we all know that a resumé in the US is a CV in the UK.  However, there are also some words that aren't as simple to translate because we don't really have the same concepts here in the States.  Here are few professional terms that I learned after filling out my HMRC forms that aren't really used on this side of the pond:

Biro - a ballpoint pen

Tippex - White Out

Sellotape - Scotch tape

figures - financials
ex: The end of the fiscal year is coming up, so let's go over the figures to make sure we're in the black.

remit - a task or area of activity officially assigned to an individual or organization.
ex: I asked the marketing team to help with me our new membership brochure even though that's not in their remit since it's fundraising literature.

scheme - a plan, program, or strategy; not used negatively in the UK
ex: Interest in the theatre's membership scheme has increased since we introduced more benefits for the various levels.

redundant - being laid off due to the employer terminating the role/position for which the employee was employed
ex: When his company needed to cut the budget, the executives got rid of an entire department and made a dozen people redundant.

gardening leave - a situation whereby an employee, after resigning, is required by the employer to remain away from work to serve out a period of notice at home
ex: She was lured away from her job to a higher paying one at another company, and her boss put her on gardening leave when she gave her notice so she'd be rusty when starting her new role.

I can't think of any more specific examples of words without revealing details about my job and my employers, past or present, so I'll stop there, but what others have you come across, dear readers?  I know there are more!  (Actually, the one thing I will add is that my professional exuberance is more at home in America than in England - a very posh executive in London once advised me that I should take out 75% of the exclamation points in my communications with donors before sending him the drafts for approval!)

Two Years Ago Last Friday

Union Station; Washington, DC

Two years ago last Friday, a taxi picked Jon and me up from the flat in Finchley.  I spent most of the ride to the airport on the phone with 02, arguing about the cancellation of my phone plan; while it was a frustrating way to spend an hour, I was secretly glad to have the distraction.  Jon and I already had enough sad and silent journeys under our belts, holding hands and trying to think of new ways to say goodbye, and I wanted to stave that off for as long as possible.

Two years ago last Friday, I dried my tears and blew my nose and calmed my hiccoughs as I walked through security at Heathrow, away from my fiancé and towards the home I'd left behind years earlier.

Two years ago last Friday, a dour American immigration official at Dulles took my passport and, when I answered his questions, broke into a beaming smile and cried, "Welcome back!"  In response, I sobbed.

I've cried too many times to can count since then.  It's occasionally felt like I'm being tested as I make a new life here in DC without Jon; as I've said before, sometimes this chapter feels like limbo.  But, more often than not, I do fit here, in this life and in this city and in this chapter.  It's been an adventure to rediscover my hometown - anyone who has been in Washington for more than a decade will tell you that it's practically unrecognizable from when I was in high school, though the bones are the same.  It's been a pleasure to get to know my parents essentially as peers, as wonderfully generous and beautifully flawed people who, I'm proud to say, I'm much more like than I would have wanted to admit when I last lived here.  It's been satisfying to have found and furnished an apartment and made it a home for the three of us to live in for (possibly) the next few years, though it's just Charlie and me right now.  It's been self-affirming to survive the wrong job, the right job that then ceased to exist, and unemployment, all of which led me finally to the place my career (and, I say without hyperbole, my heart) wants me to be.  And it's been comforting to not only have engaged with dear old friends while maintaining friendships from London but also to have made fantastic new friends, women who are as kind and funny and irreverent as any I might ever hope to know.

(It's also been character-strengthening to take on Homeland Security and the State Department and to stand strong against delays and misunderstandings and complications.  For those of you who are interested, I've put in a calendar of our visa progress on the right sidebar of this blog and will update it as things progress.)

Two years ago last Friday, I started a new chapter.  It's important for me to remember that this isn't a time of purgatory but rather of pilgrimage.  Soon Jon will be here and we'll start yet another, but, tears aside, I'm not passively waiting for him to arrive.  All of these little moments of belonging, even without Jon, make up quite an active life.  It's a challenging life, a full life, and a beautiful one.  I'm moving forward, as are we all, in a succession of little moments, and life is good.

Happy June, dear readers.

linking up with Belinda for her monthly Life is Good project at Found Love, Now What?

A Melancholy for the Season

I had a very small and silent meltdown in the car yesterday.  I was driving down Brookville Road in Chevy Chase on my way to my parents' house in the Maryland suburbs after having run some errands in Tenleytown and Friendship Heights; it was a route I'd traveled thousands of times over the past two decades.  As I slowed at a stop sign, I was suddenly struck by how green and alive the neighborhood was.  To my right, a woman was kneeling in the dirt in her garden, a trowel in her hand.  On my left, a man pedaled by, followed by a small girl in a hot pink tank top with training wheels on her bike.  I thought, "When did all of this happen?  Weren't the branches just bare?"  And then I reminded myself that it's nearly mid-May.

And then I realized I'd been stopped at the intersection for a full minute, barely breathing with tears in my eyes.   I felt like the days were slipping away and I wasn't spending them the way I wanted to.  Spring is already turning to summer, and I've missed another season with Jon.  Everything seems to be going so fast and, out of the blue, I felt like the time I had to share my life with him was slipping away.

I know that's ridiculous in the grand scheme of things.  Even if Jon's visa takes another six months to be granted, we have decades to spend together.  We have dozens of springs and dozens of summers ahead of us.  But in that minute, sitting at the stop sign, I couldn't exhale because I felt like I was wasting time without him.

Again, that's absurd.  I have a very full life; there's no more room in my calendar or my heart for anything else and I can't complain for a second.  There aren't many things I'm missing because Jon's not here.  But, for some reason, I wanted to stop the world from spinning so that I wouldn't ever experience anything else alone.  I couldn't stand the idea of life moving forward while I felt I was at a standstill.

In that minute, it felt like everything was happening without us.

Thoughts on Immigration

Privilege is when you get conscious or unconscious benefits from a demographic trait about yourself that you cannot control. These benefits may be overt (getting paid more as a man) or they may be covert (being able to walk down a street alone at night without fear of violence). I want to stress the last type of privilege. A privilege does not have to be something positive; it can simply be the lack of something negative.

Checking your privilege doesn't mean anyone is asking you to say "I only have things because I am part of privileged groups." It does mean someone is asking you to say "By position of a characteristic I was born with, I have been helped, or at least not hurt, more than others without this characteristic." It does not mean anyone wants you to apologize for it; it does mean someone is asking for an acknowledgement of the implications of it, for how it has impacted where you are now, how it might be skewing your perspective or level of knowledge in discussing a subject, or how the lack of that same privilege may have made things different for someone else.

excerpt from the recent Jezebel post To The Princeton Privileged Kid

My experiences with immigration have been, in a word, privileged: I have applied for five visas since December 2007, and I have never once truly doubted that my petitions would be approved.  Of course I worried about setbacks due to improperly filled out forms and I felt helpless while waiting for faceless officials to administrate my paperwork, but I have been eligible for every visa for which I applied and, perhaps most tellingly, I have always considered myself an expatriate rather than an immigrant.

Over the past few years, as I moved back from London to DC because of the impending expiration of my unrenewable (under recently enacted legislation) Tier 1 visa, as Jon and I stressed out about our marriage visa so that we could wed in the UK, and as we've struggled through the process for Jon's green card allowing him to live and work in the US, I've heard variations on the same sentiment from even my most liberal friends:

I don't understand why this is so complicated - the restrictive rules aren't meant for people like you!

I'm Caucasian and Judeo-Christian with two advanced degrees, optimistic job prospects almost regardless of where I live, and a decent savings account, as is Jon.  However, our privilege doesn't help us in our immigration process.  It simply doesn't hurt us as it hurts those who don't check the "right" demographic and socio-economic boxes.

There are doors open to Jon and me that aren't accessible to others because we have chosen to immigrate/expatriate and we've had the freedom to follow every rule to the letter along the way.  There's no legal reason for us to not end up together in the same country, and we know it will work out eventually.  Regardless, we've been on a two-year rollercoaster.  We have felt completely impotent, at the mercy of bureaucracy and laws that, honestly, the staff of the government agencies with whom we correspond seem to not completely understand.  I can't even imagine the nightmare experienced by immigrants who aren't on firm legal footing.

The funny thing in all of this is, of course, that I know very few illegal immigrants, if we're using that term the way our elected officials and media outlets do.  Over the past four years, I've met nearly a dozen people who are living in - or were/are hoping to live in - a country of which they are not native who exploited loopholes, skirted rules, and, in some cases, knowingly embarked on illegal enterprises.  Of all of those people, only two were not born in the United States, Canada, or western Europe.  The majority of people I know who are taking advantage of the process enjoy the same privileges that Jon and I do, and, for the most part, they have fewer consequences to face should they get caught than if they lacked privilege.

Unsurprisingly, my thoughts on immigration have evolved dramatically since I submitted my first visa petition, but the root I come back to over and over again is that our system is broken.  (I think the UK's system is broken, too, but I'm specifically referring here to the situation in the United States.)  If the process is so overwhelmingly complicated and inconsistent, is it any wonder that people flout the rules when they think they can get away with it and even when, lacking privilege, they know they probably won't?  If there aren't real penalties for people who break the law, including for those with privilege, where's the punitive incentive to follow it?  And if we hold people who have are forced to identify as "immigrants" rather than "expats" due to a lack of privilege to a different standard, is it any wonder that I'm told that the laws aren't meant for people like me?

I leave you with no well-researched suggestions for reforms, dear readers; obviously the issue is nuanced and global.  But I do think we have to take privilege out of conversations about and policies on immigration.  As long as we think about it and legislate on it in terms of "people like me," the system will remain broken.

Unexpected Update

I received a letter from USCIS on Monday that contained both good news and bad.  Ready?

Our I-130 petition for Jon's visa has been approved.

This is good news - it really is, and I keep reminding myself of that.  The I-130, if you remember, is the spousal visa that will give Jon his green card, allowing him full legal rights as soon as it's granted.  He won't have to wait in the States, prohibited by law from working, submitting further forms and applying for an adjustment of status until he's awarded a green card.  Once the visa is in his passport, he can move over and we'll hit the ground running with real life.  We're no longer in limbo; our marriage has been deemed bona fide by the United States government.

The bad news, though, is that Jon probably won't be moving over for four to six months.  That's an estimate of how long it will take for the steps between the petition being approved and the visa being granted to play out.

There was a snowball's chance in hell that our I-130 would be approved before our I-129F because of the delay in processing time for the I-130.  (Just to remind you, you cannot file an I-129F without having first filed an I-130, and we filed the I-129F in addition to the I-130 because it would have gotten Jon here sooner though he wouldn't have had the full legal rights of an alien spouse upon arrival.)  As I noted a few weeks ago, the wait for I-130 approval is supposed to be five months but it was 12 months at the time we filed and when I wrote that last post it was eight months.  It somehow only took five and a half months from the date our application was received to the date we were given approval.

That's good news.  It is.  It really is.

But we were so aware of the infamous delay in the I-130 processing that we hadn't actually considered any other possibility than that we'd get the I-129F approved first, around this time, and that the next steps would only take six to eight weeks.

When I moved back from London, we knew we'd be long distance for more than 18 months and, over the past year, we've more or less made our peace with the fact that we'd be apart for longer than we'd expected because of delays and misunderstandings on our end.  Honestly, though, we never prepared ourselves for more than two years of this, and it's really hard.

That's all I've got for you, dear readers.  It's really hard.  I know it's not fair - thank you to everyone I speak to who confirms that - and I know it could be worse - Jon could be from a suspect country rather than one with which we have a special relationship - and I know that the approval of our I-130 is good news and there are couples who would do anything to be in our shoes.  I'll remember soon enough that things are moving forward, but that's all I can say right now.  It's really hard.

photo by Tarah Coonan

Hey, Is This A Good Time To Call?

Note: we in the United States changed our clocks this past Sunday but the UK doesn't spring forward into British Summer Time until March 30 - until then, we're only 4 hours apart!

Back in the days when I was young and reckless - otherwise known as my senior year of college, when I was 21 in Manhattan and pining masochistically for someone in London - I realized something magical and dangerous about the time difference between EST and GMT: the later I stayed out partying, the more acceptable it would be to call my ex.

I don't just mean that I could convince myself that it was a good idea to call him after however many drinks, though that didn't help the situation, but that 4am in New York was 9am in England and that's a totally reasonable hour for the phone to ring!

(After I explained this logic to my friends, they made sure to confiscate both my phone and my laptop before nights out so that I couldn't call, text, or Skype the boy in question.  I had wonderfully supportive friends in college, don't you think?)

I'm sure that Jon's grateful to have missed those days, but we do still struggle with finding the best time to speak given our respective schedules and the five-hour time difference.  Thank goodness xkcd made this handy chart to help everyone who has friends and family scattered across the world!

Expat Diaries: Another Visa Update

Over the past few years, I've gotten a lot of questions about the logistics of expatriation.  Readers email and tweet regularly, wondering how they can legally live and work and love in another country.  (Interestingly, the only people who ask about how to get around the rules - or about the consequences of flouting them all together - are Americans who want to move abroad.  I have never once had someone from another country even hint that they were thinking of coming to the United States under fraudulent pretenses.  That doesn't make us look good, my fellow citizens!)  While I am not a lawyer or immigration professional, Jon and I have applied for seven visas between us in the last eight years and consider ourselves to be amateur experts in the field of transatlantic expatriation, so I do want to be as helpful as I can for people in similar situations.  Since we're going through the spousal visa process right now, let's discuss that!

Tarah Coonan Photography

Last time I blogged about our current visa efforts, I described it as "very stop-and-start."  We're now past that phase and, since late November, we've just been waiting.  Everything's been submitted and there's nothing we can do until we hear from USCIS, which probably won't happen for another two months.

I didn't really mention this in the post from last October, but Jon and I have actually submitted applications for two different visas to bring him over to America as my husband.  Here's how it works:

The visa required to bring an alien spouse into the United States is called the I-130.  In theory, processing time for this visa takes about 5 months; that's why we hoped that Jon would be over here in late March since we filed that application in late October.  However, we didn't realize that the five-month timeframe only leads to initial approval; after that, you have to schedule interviews and medical appointments and things like that, which can take another few months to sort out.  All in all, you're probably looking at about a year before the I-130 visa is actually granted.

Unfortunately, the "in theory" up there is supremely optimistic.  It had been taking more than 12 months for I-130 applications to be processed and, though they've now reduced that to 8 months, the processing time is far longer than it should be.  (This NYTimes article explores why the wait is so long for US citizens who apply for visas on behalf of their alien spouses.  It's distressing on many levels!)  The goal is for initial approval to take 5 months, but according to USCIS that won't apply to applications submitted before May 2014.

That's why we also submitted an I-129F petition in late November.  It's basically an offshoot of the K1 fiancé visa; you can apply if you're already married, in which case you get a K3 visa, but the alien only gets the legal rights of a fiancé rather than a spouse after arriving in the United States until all the paperwork is adjusted.  Frustratingly, that means that the alien spouse can't work immediately upon arrival in the United States.  The other annoying thing about the I-129F is that you can't submit the application until you've submitted the I-130 and received a receipt of confirmation from USCIS which you then have to include in your I-129F application packet - that's why it took us a month after filing the I-130 to file the I-129F.  On the bright side, though, processing for the I-129F really does take five months and, once it's granted, the subsequent steps should only take another four to six weeks.

(And yes, Jon loves it when I refer to him as an alien.  Obviously.)

So there we are.  We're waiting - and waiting and waiting - for any news, but it's most likely that the first thing we'll hear is that Jon's K3 petition has been approved.  We probably won't hear that for another two months, at which point we'll get a notification that we can move forward with the final pieces of the process.  Based on what we know about it all now, we hope for Jon to be here sometime in June, just over two years after I repatriated to the United States from London.  It will have been quite a journey - but it will all have been worth it!

Here are a few past posts on other visas you might be interested in applying for if you hope to move to the UK: student visa, Tier 1 work visa, marriage visa, and an overview of UK visa options. Also, Gillian wrote a guest post for Betsy Transatlantically last April about her journey through the I-130 visa, which took them exactly one year.  The comments left by readers going through similar processes are supremely helpful, but do note that some of the information/advice provided may no longer be valid due to changes in the laws!  And, as usual, I highly recommend you talk to an immigration lawyer if you have specific concerns.  (I can give you names and contact information for firms in both London and DC, if you want.)  In the meantime, I'm more than happy to answer anything informally and I'm sure some questions will get answered by other readers, too, if you leave them in the comments below.  The more help we can be for each other the better!

Speaking of help, I'd be really grateful if you shared some of your thoughts on blogging with me here!  The responses I'm collecting are fantastic and I can't wait to publish them next Monday.

linking up with Postcards from Rachel and Lost in Travels for Expat Diaries 

Guest Post: Bridget, I'm an American!

When you picture the life of an expat, what do you see?  You probably know that there are challenges inherent in exploring a new country, navigating new customs, and maybe learning a new language, but I'd guess that most of what you imagine is full of excitement and adventure and opportunity.

Now picture the life of an immigrant.  What do you see?

The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines an expatriate as one who has "withdrawn (oneself) from residence in or allegiance to one's native country" and an immigrant as one "who comes to a country of which one is not a native to take up permanent residence," but the unofficial distinction between the two terms is incredibly loaded.  The differences are heavy with economic, social, and geographical bias; it's safe to assume that it's more difficult to be an immigrant than to be an expat, and I do know that I'm incredibly lucky to have identified - and, perhaps more importantly, to have been identified by others - as an expat.

I am lucky, no question, and even as Jon and I deal with the frustrations of his visa process we remind ourselves that we could be facing far greater obstacles.  A few weeks ago, I realized just how easy it is to be an expat as opposed to an immigrant when one of my best friends posted a Facebook status from her office.  Bridget received her Masters of Social Work a few years ago from one of the best programs in the country and now works in the South Bronx at a community center for women and their families that caters primarily to an immigrant population, and she helps people face and overcome challenges that Jon and I - and, to be honest, most of the expats I know - can't even fathom. I asked Bridget to share the story behind her post because I think we can all use a little perspective and she was happy to oblige, so please help me welcome her here today!

“Bridget, I’m an American!” began one of the most delightful phone calls I have received. Cecilia* had been coming to my office once a week for six months to prepare for her US citizenship exam.

She submitted her application in July with the assistance of a notario. Notario fraud is a problem that plagues the South Bronx as well as many other neighborhoods with heavy immigrant concentrations. Notarios are individuals who claim to have legal expertise. Often that legal expertise does not extend beyond going down to the courthouse, paying $15, and becoming a notary. They often charge exorbitant fees and provide services that can put immigrants at risk.

The notario who helped Celia with her citizenship application failed to inform her that she qualified for a fee waiver based on her income, which would have saved her $680. He also failed to inform her that she would have to pass an English reading and writing test at her citizenship interview. Cecilia had never learned to read or write.

I run an immigration program at a wonderful community center called Mercy Center in the South Bronx. Our community is made up largely of immigrants who struggle to meet their basic needs. I help individuals with citizenship and Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals applications and I provide accurate information. The services I provide are tangible. But what makes my job meaningful and possible is that the wonderful people who work at the Mercy Center have created an environment that truly celebrates individuals.

To claim that my team and I taught Celia to read and write would be grossly unfair to her. We simply gave her the resources and celebrated her progress. We showed her free computer programs and helped her develop a study plan. And then we cheered her every week as she mastered a new set of words. “Citizens can vote.” “Flag Day is in June.” “Washington is the father of our country.” With every new sentence Celia learned, her confidence grew. She learned what she was capable of. She enrolled in Mercy Center’s English classes. After a few weeks of class, she told me that she refused to speak to me in Spanish because she would be an American. We celebrated that, too.

The day she called me to tell me, “Bridget, I am an American. I passed the exam!” I jumped up from my desk, let out my most patriotic “WOOP!” and shared the news with the other aspiring citizens in my office. We all cheered.

I believe that by providing information and resources, we can help immigrants improve the quality of life and avoid traps like dishonest notarios. But by celebrating individuals, we make the South Bronx a more hopeful and joyful place to live. I’m so grateful to the participants I work with, who remind me daily how exciting and gratifying it is to learn new things. I love my job!

Celia, second from left, and Bridget, second from right

*Celia’s name has been changed out of respect for her privacy.

Expat Diaries: There's a New Expat in Town

via

On moving to another country

by Jon

Every now and again Betsy asks me to write something for her blog and, depending on if I'm comfortable with it I'm happy to post something (although weirdly enough the last thing I wasn't happy writing about was canal boats, to give a tantalising glimpse into a part of my background that will forever remain hidden). Anyway, this time round Betsy asked me to write about the prospect of moving to a new country and what that means to me, particularly given the fact I've just spent an amazing week with her checking up on the former colonies.

To be honest, right now, writing this on the flight back to Heathrow, I feel less intimidated or nervous about the prospect than you might think - generally I just feel mildly frustrated that I can't get on with getting over there now. That's partly because I've lived abroad before, but more importantly I started living away from home when I was about 13 and started boarding at high school - homesickness was pretty much over and beaten out of me after those five years.

People talk about culture shock as well, and I can't exactly predict how that one's going to go down. Weirdly enough, though, I'd kind of be happy if there was an element of that shock, because it would mean that globalisation hadn't yet sunk its all-encompassing talons into every field of modern life.  In DC I found I could get, in a pretty regular supermarket, chocolate digestives, Coleman's mustard and Heinz Baked Beans (also Spotted Dick in a can, which is weird and not a thing, America). It's the same thing here in London - if I want to, I can go to Chipotle, Shake Shack and, soon, Dunkin' Donuts (maybe not at the same time though). When I was 18 I spent six months in Vietnam, so perhaps the cultural divide going to the States doesn't quite sound so intimidating.

My point is, though, that I'd kind of be happy to wake up, really want something super-British and be royally pissed off that I couldn't get it. It would mean I'd have to adapt to something new, and experience something I wouldn't be able to otherwise. So long live the fact that you still can't get hold of PG Tips tea or decent cheese (ooooh, controversial) in America, and the fact that the UK doesn't get proper BBQ food or the concept of customer service. If that day ever came I think it would be a sad one for anyone curious about the wider world and what might be out there, so personally I cannot wait to wake up one morning and be hacked off not to be able to get or do something (although that doesn't apply to getting a job. I'd quite like to get one of those) - I'll just have to go outside and venture outside my comfort zone. Who knows, it might even be fun!

A Teaser for Tomorrow

Just dropping in, dear readers, to let you know that Rachel has asked me to co-host the Expat Diaries link-up tomorrow with her and Chelsea!  And I'll have a special treat for you on this blog in the form of a guest post written by my very own expat: Jon.  You may have noticed the hashtag #expat on a handful of my tweets and Instagrams over the past week or so but, for the first time, it's not in reference to me.  I haven't officially been an expat for a year and a half; if all goes well, Jon will be coming to the US with a visa in his passport in less than four months.  He's the expat around here now, so he'll be on Betsy Transatlantically tomorrow with his thoughts!

I hope you'll link up with us - you can share any travel/expat stories from your own blog and read others', too.  It's a really fun way to feel part of this community.  If you're new to this and want to see some of the other editions of the link-up, check out November and September.  Have fun with it!

And, because I can't leave you with only that teaser after a full day's worth of silence, here are a few transatlantic links I've seen around the interwebs recently:

40 Things Only American Expats in London Will Understand

amen to almost all of these

An American Tribute to British Drivers

I have heard absolute horror stories about the UK test!

US Expat Explains The Best and Worse Things About England

this one makes me slightly irrationally ragey, but I'm sharing it anyway