Nearly two and a half years ago, in January 2024, I crammed my most essential belongings into three suitcases and left behind the only life I have ever known to start a new one halfway across the world, in Paris.
Jaded by corporate America and wanting a change of environment, I left my hometown of New York City and moved to the City of Light on a student visa in pursuit of a better life.
While I feel I succeeded in building a more mindful life for myself in many ways, living abroad has also come with its fair share of challenges.
When I decided to leave my home country and become an immigrant, I didn’t fully consider all of the privileges I may be leaving behind.
In addition to having to prepare a script to book a doctor’s appointment in a language I’m not yet fluent in, other seemingly simple tasks have become notably more difficult to circumvent as an American living in France.
Navigating a tough job market is a nightmare when I have to also consider visa sponsorship
Because of visa restrictions, it often feels like I have to work 10 times as hard as French nationals and EU citizens to secure a permanent work contract in my field.
In France, companies hiring a foreign worker for 12 months or more are typically required to pay an annual tax that can equate to 55% of the employee’s salary. This is no paltry fee, particularly for small enterprises and startups.
The job market here is so tough for non-EU citizens that many of my fellow expats in Paris have turned to fully remote work, freelancing, gig work, content creation, or entrepreneurship to generate income.
As a foreigner, securing a contrat à durée indéterminée, a permanent work contract, in France is like holding the winning lottery ticket.
In my experience, like in the US, job hunting here is partly a matter of chance, but mostly a long-haul battle that involves numerous rejections until you network with the right person or secure an internship that leads to a long-term role.
However, unlike job hunting back home in the States, I don’t have to question whether I was rejected for a role due to my résumé or because the company isn’t able or willing to sponsor my work permit.
Not having a built-in support system in Paris can be tough during hard moments
By moving away from home, I created a physical divide between myself and my loved ones and left behind family members and lifelong friends.
Although I’m in constant digital communication with my family and hometown best friends and try to call often, when the going gets tough, I miss having physical access to my community.
When I still lived in New York and I was feeling low, I would always take the subway uptown for a home-cooked meal or meet up with my girlfriends for dinner downtown after a rough workweek.
I even miss the small, fleeting moments of communion growing up in New York City, like engaging in small talk in Spanish, my mother tongue, at the deli or supermarket — conversations that are not as fluid in my broken French, even though I make an effort. Or walking by another Black American on the street and giving each other an acknowledging smile or nod — a courtesy that hasn’t been adopted by our brothers and sisters across the Atlantic.
Given that the majority of my community is back home in the US, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have anxieties over experiencing a crisis situation while living abroad and not having immediate emotional and physical support.
Nevertheless, I know forming deep friendships and relationships takes time, particularly for a guarded introvert like me, and I’m grateful for the small community I do have in Paris. And my hope is that when we are at our most vulnerable, we will be there for one another.
As an immigrant, I feel like I’m always fighting for my right to stay in France
More often than not, the first thing locals ask me when they learn that I’m American is: “So, why did you move to Paris?”
My answer is always the same: Because I fell in love with the city and wanted to create a life for myself in a country I chose, on my own terms.
The question often comes from a place of curiosity, not judgment, but I grapple with it each time. I still don’t feel like I fully belong here.
I know it’d be much easier to live in the country where I was born, where I have my support system and don’t have to worry about my visa status or justify why I deserve to stay in the place I’ve chosen to call home.
I’m still regularly apologizing for my slight accent as my mouth, so used to the stress-timed rhythm of the English language, adjusts to the way French cuts and stitches words together so sentences flow like a continuous piece of fabric.
However, it’s been my choice to live abroad and take all that comes with it, including giving up the benefits and comforts of existing within a society I’m familiar with.
By taking the leap anyway, I get to prove to myself every day that I’m stronger than I think.
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