A response to Beth Mann’s post, “My Secret Republican Side”.
It’s hard to see completely clearly within yourself, but I know that most of the major decisions I’ve made in my life point to love being what motivates me. Which made it sort of funny when, about half a decade ago, after years of trying to be able to live in Paris (during which I’d been everything from a student, to a teacher, to a writer working on a project about the city), and with my options now running out, I had a French immigration agent give me this advice: “What you really need to do,” this middle-aged woman with a sensible haircut said in an equally sensible tone, “is find a French citizen and get married to him.”
Love isn’t a reasonable or predictable thing. I’d first come to Paris at the age of 13, with a student organization. Though I’d read a lot about this legendary city and was eager to see it, and though I’d been enjoying my French classes at school, I had no particular expectations of how I’d feel when I got to the City of Light. But I ended up falling in love. It was as strong and all-consuming as a first love always is. Paris’ architecture, its winding river, its past that you can almost feel in the air, spoke to me. I felt at once connected to my literary and historical heroes, and totally and completely myself. I felt at once calm and energized walking along the streets. For the first – and, so far, the last – time in my life, I felt completely, totally at home. I knew this was where I had to live.
Love often involves shocks and things you have to come to terms with. I soon learned that, no matter how passionate I was about Paris, no matter how much I was willing to give – and give up – staying there would be almost impossible.
Let me count the ways a foreigner can live long-term in France: 1. Work for a multinational company that is willing to let you transfer to its French branch, or get hired by a French company for whom tax penalties and other expenses incurred by hiring a non-European don’t matter. 2. Get refugee status. 3. Have a child in France, who would thus be considered a French citizen. As its parent, you would be allowed to remain in the country. 4. Be able to contribute something so extraordinary to French culture through science or the arts, that an exception would be made for you. 5. Marry or get PACS’ed (The PACS is basically a civil union, and is open to both heterosexual and same-sex couples) with a French or European citizen.
Though it seems like there are a lot of options, none of them are simple, and I wasn’t even applicable for many of them. My love of Paris kept me going, though. Eventually, I found myself plotting a sham marriage with a Frenchman who wanted to get US citizenship (which is even harder to obtain than French citizenship). Our plan ended quickly and disastrously for many reasons, including this one: Although movies would tell us otherwise, it’s probably not a good idea to fall in love with the person you’re supposed to fake-marry. In the meantime, I’d made the acquaintance of someone who’d created a new website about Paris. After a few months of correspondence (I’d returned to the States by then, and was working to save money so that I could go back to my beloved city and try again to find a way to stay there permanently), he told me the site seemed to be doing well, and he needed someone to translate everything into English – he could give me a work contract in a month or two.
And so I headed back to Paris, and spent the next two months helping him create a database of short articles about the city. My days were full of love and hope. It was at this time that I ended up meeting an eccentric, history- and movie- loving French guy with a cat, who became my boyfriend. One day, my soon-to-be-boss asked me to meet him at a restaurant. When he arrived, he looked harried. He told me he couldn’t do this anymore. I realized with horror that he was having a sort of nervous breakdown.
Once again my dream of living in Paris had slipped from my grasp, like something slapped out of my hand. I staggered out of the restaurant, too shocked to cry. I sent a text message to my boyfriend, to tell him what had happened, and that, since I now had no way of legally working here so I could pay rent, I’d be going back to the States soon.
And then, my dream came true. The boyfriend left work and came home immediately. After letting me cry out my disappointment, he reminded me that he’d been saying I should come live with him. The offer still stood. I’d found a way to get a long-stay visa, so it was possible. After several months of living together, we knew we loved and trusted each other enough to make a bigger commitment. And so, we went to the Mayor’s office and got PACS’ed.
Although nothing is ever for certain (until I apply for, and hopefully get, French citizenship, if the boyfriend wanted to leave me tomorrow, I’d be back where I was), my story has a happy ending. But here’s what I know for sure: If it hadn’t, I would still have done what it took to live in Paris. I was prepared – and am prepared, if it ever becomes necessary – to live under a bridge and eat fish from the Seine like Alfred Jarry did once upon a time, to stay here. I’m prepared to work without working papers, to seem to live an ordinary life, while secretly bearing a long-expired visa. This is where I belong, and I’m prepared to fight for that.
I feel no sense of guilt about this: Immigration laws are, in most cases, relatively recent human constructs. Up until a century or so ago, people could settle pretty much in whatever land they pleased. And while I understand a need for order and regulations, what I’ve never understood is, if a person isn't a criminal or afflicted with a contagious illness, and is willing to work and contribute something to a place, and not abuse the system, why they shouldn’t be allowed to live there? In my opinion, it should work like this: You're allowed to live in a country, but if you break any laws, you’re out.
As I wrote at the beginning, this post is a response to Beth Mann’s piece about illegal immigrants. In her reply to the comment I left there, Beth wrote: If I was unhappy where I lived, I would not move to another country hoping I would just assimilate somehow, some way. I thought for some time that I might move to Canada. The first thing I did was research the various paths to citizenship. When I realized the difficulty, I moved within my country. There is NO WAY I'd move my entire family under the assumption that a country should just take me in. Well, I'd have to say, unless I was under dire circumstances.
Reading her words, all I could think was, “How lucky you are.” How lucky anyone is, to be born in a country they love or at least find comfortable enough to live in.
And how lucky I am, really, to want to live in France because of passion, as well as a strong belief in most French laws - and not because I was trying to flee starvation or political oppression, or any of the numerous other evils that courageous people try to escape every day, doing whatever they can just to be able to live decently.
How lucky I am to have had the resources - financial help from my family, a college education - to help me all those years in my persistent quest to live where I wanted to live. How lucky I am to be able to stay here - and to know I have the strength to do anything I have to, for that to remain so.
What about you – if you couldn’t live where you wanted by any legal means, could you be an illegal immigrant?
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If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast. - Hemingway
I haven't traveled the world enough to know if there is a place I'd be willing to stay in permanently as an illegal immigrant. Who knows? I loved living in Venezuela, and I could have stayed there forever if I had wanted to, but I yearned to come back to Colorado because it is my ancestral homeland. Venezuelan people are wonderful, and the country is a cultural and geographic paradise. But the San Juan and Sangre de Cristo mountains in Colorado pulled me back, as did the ghosts of my ancestors and my family.
A great majority of the illegal immigrants who come to the United States from Mexico and other Latin American countries are just seeking a better life in the "giant of the north," but that's hard when they start their sojourn by breaking the law when they enter the country illegally. I don't for one minute believe the great majority of them are bad people, or scammers who game the system, or come here with a sense of entitlement, expecting the U.S. to give them handouts. However, as illegal immigrants, every move they make in the country after entering the country becomes illegal by definition. Yet, they somehow manage to "make it" here, don't they? Why is that? The U.S. needs to recognize that it is not doing enough to stench the incentives that keep people coming. ... And, yes, hardened criminals should be the first to be deported. Rated.
"Although movies would tell us otherwise, it’s probably not a good idea to fall in love with the person you’re supposed to fake-marry."
Ha.....
I appreciate your opinion and can't think of much to add. Other than this: many people are leaving their countries for financial gain as well. As mentioned, it's not always the case that people are living horrific lives elsewhere and simply must leave.
I'd love to live in another country. I'd love to live in several. I wish the utopian society in my mind existed. But the reality is considerably different and there are far-reaching implications when you're talking about millions and millions of people illegally moving into a country and taking advantage (I don't mean that in a cold manner, more of a factual way) of the system.
I also addressed on my blog a response to the language issue you mentioned in your comment to me. In short, I DO believe, if you're going to move to another country, you should learn the language. For no other reason than it's critical to communication. And simply respect for the host country. I'd want to learn it.
Anyway, good piece and thanks for exchanging opinions and ideas with me.
1.) In 1991 I legally lived and worked in the People's Republic of China, an experience that I still regard with ambivalent feelings but for the most part I was treated as and felt as if I were an "alien."
2.) From 1969 to 1973, I lived in Los Angeles, CA as a federal fugitive under an AKA made up from whole cloth but documented with a legal but bogus California Driver's License and with an illegally obtained but real SS#. At that time there was no way to cross reference databases and so it was much easier to secure "legally issued" ID using a completely fraudulent identity. I purchased, registered and insured vehicles with my new "legal" but fraudulent identity and yes I registered to vote in 1972 and further violated federal law when I cast my vote for Senator George McGovern for president.
3.) In 1976, in violation of the Mann Act, I illegally transported a seventeen year old French Canadian "illegal alien" girl across state lines from Texas to California, but that's a whole other tale that I will document in detail with future posts.
My experience as a fugitive living with a "legal" but fraudulently obtained identity was for the most part a "normal" existence, but the most prominent consistency of that time in my life was a "visceral" emotional response to law enforcement. Every time I passed a cop on the street, or caught a glimpse of a patrol car in my rear view mirror the hair on the back of my neck and my forearms literally stood up.
Eventually I became so vigilant that I could spot a cop in traffic from over a half mile away, and I became expert at identifying plain clothes officers in unmarked cars. I could execute an unobtrusive series of right and left turns to avoid police with minimal possibility of detection. I could talk with cops when the situation required (I reported an armed robbery at the book store where I worked.) and never raise suspicion, but the "visceral" reaction never left me. After I turned myself in to the FBI, posted bail and regained my true identity, I was still technically under arrest, but I felt "free" for the first time in over three years.
I am very familiar what it feels like to be vulnerable as an "alien" and as "illegal." It's not a good feeling in any shape or form and I have both empathy and sympathy for anyone who is an "alien resident" or an "illegal/undocumented alien" in any country anywhere in the this sad strange world.
My sibling is an ex-pat and has been a resident of another country for a decade. Man has always been restless, always looked to distant horizons. That's how humans populated almost all the areas of the world, by picking up and moving. That often didn't work out well for the people who picked up and moved first, like, frankly, the indigenous peoples of Mexico. So I agree with you. Immigration laws are human constructs and I will add that I think they're inherently unnatural, which is why they are so difficult to enforce. I personally would have no problem being illegal somewhere. In fact, I'm kind of an illegal alien in the state in which I'm currently hanging out, so I guess I'm already a scofflaw.
The whole Maugham passage is here:
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/31165-i-have-an-idea-that-some-men-are-born-out
So to answer your question, yes.
Lezlie
nice piece, and i am glad you get to stay, and to stay for love.
The implication being if you had a rat infestation in your apartment, I guess you'd just let them be, correct?
Just wonderin'.
Chicken Maaan – Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely. I love that quote, and always have. It makes me happy that those who’ve also fallen in love with Paris will always keep it with them, even if they aren’t able to physically return here.
Beth – Thank you for reading and commenting. I wanted to write you a PM to say I’d responded to your post, but it was impossible to open my inbox this weekend – and it seems to be the case for lots of other people here, too. At any rate, I’m glad you found this post, and thank you for being so understanding, as well. It’s great when people with different opinions, even about a controversial issue, can just discuss like civilized people. To address some of your thoughts in the comment you left here, I’ve often wondered if all borders were more open, if there would be an influx of so many immigrants to one country. I’m not sure, because obviously there are a lot of factors at play, including, of course, geographic proximity. But I feel like if we could let people choose where they want to go, we could probably manage, especially if those allowed into the country were productive members of society. In the case of the US, though I have heard about people saying illegal immigrants are taking jobs Americans might want, I’ve also heard – and witnessed – many examples to the contrary. When I was last in Georgia, for example, farmers in the southern part of the state were very worried; the state government had cracked down on illegal migrant workers, making it more or less impossible for farmers to hire them to pick their cotton/peach/peanut/pecan crops. And though there are indeed, sadly, many unemployed legal US citizens living there, none of them came forward to apply for this job; apparently, the conditions – the extremely high temperatures, the long days, the physical strain – are considered too hard for most people in our country today, and no one wanted to or felt capable of doing it…but those illegal migrant workers never had a problem. All this to say, I believe from what I’ve heard and seen that in many cases, the jobs illegal immigrants are taking from “Amercians”, are there for the taking. As for learning a language when you decide to move to a place, I agree that it’s the ideal thing to do, for many, many reasons. However, as a language teacher, I’ve found that there is a significant portion of adults who will never be able to really learn more of a foreign language than some key words and phrases, even if they feel very motivated. It’s sort of like me learning calculus – it might be able to be done via some extraordinary, yet-unthought-of teaching method, but for now, my brain is just blocked to higher math. My great-grandmother came from Italy as a teenager. She was illiterate and apparently didn’t even speak standard Italian, but rather a country dialect. Over the decades she was in the US, she certainly must have learned a few important vocabulary words, but she never spoke English fluently. Some if it was probably because she didn’t really have to: she lived in a predominantly Italian community, and if she did work, it was in a shop, where she only had to give prices of things or something like that. If she’d been given special attention and first been taught to read, she might have been able to become a fluent speaker, but things didn’t work that way. Still, she loved America and her new life here, and made sure her children grew up speaking English outside the home, as well as in it (by the second generation, no one in my family could speak Italian anymore). Again, thank you for reading and continuing the dialogue.
jmac – Wow. You have definitely got to write more about these experiences!
500words – I am a quote fiend, but for some reason, I’d never heard or read that one! Thank you so much for sharing it here – I love it!
aim – Thank you for reading. To be honest, I have no idea how to respond to your question. The only thing I know about immigration and drug policy in the US comes from a season of “Weeds”. It’s a complex issue and the one thing I can say for sure is, not all illegal immigrants who come to the US are involved in drug trafficking/dealing. If you mean that trafficking might facilitate their crossing the border, because of having zones people know from experience are less watched, or something like that, maybe, but I’m really not sure about any of it.
Lezlie – As always, you are so wise. I agree; just as we can do with a person, we can sometimes fall in love with the idea of a place, rather than the place itself. I do think the positive side to that is that there’s potential for any place we live in, to become the place we love, if we just think about it in a certain light. But of course, it could also cause a lot of problems for someone who’s convinced they can be happy nowhere else. I’m lucky to have travelled a lot, and while there are other cities I love, and that even in some cases have a feeling of “home” for me, like New York and Florence – something stops me from going right over the edge of loving them passionately like I do Paris. Still, if I had any doubt that I love Paris and not just some idea of it, what always reminds me of it is, each time I’m outside, walking in the city, I feel that same thrill I did when I first came here. Some days it might be dulled a little by the stresses of life and work, but it never fades. On a practical note, after I fell in love with Paris, I also came to learn that the way of life here – from the more open, fair laws towards same-sex couples, to the strict separation of church and state, to universal healthcare, to the amount of vacation days – is the one that also suits me best, and that did – and does - add to my love, and to my conviction that this was where I wanted to live.
daisyjane – Bravo to you for doing what you have to, to live where you believe you should! If you do get sham-married, though, be careful: apparently police and other agents will look into your “marriage”, which has to last for a certain number of years in order for you to get citizenship. Before you get into a fake marriage, definitely look into these laws and tips that you should be aware of – because if you get caught, you’ll be deported and possibly have other punishments, too. Good luck to you.
Joisey Shore – To answer your question, I allow animals and bugs to stay in my apartment if they’re not posing any threat to my physical or mental well-being. For example, there is a horrible spider by our bathtub right now and I’m scared of her – but she hasn’t crawled out of her web that I’ve seen, and keeps her distance, so we’ve allowed her to stay. We can live in harmony with others, even if we’re uneasy. And I have to admit, that spider reduces the population of a lot of super-scary bugs, like centipedes. She does a job I wouldn’t want to do, and I benefit from it. If, on the other hand, there are animals/creepy-crawlies we need to remove, we don’t kill them. To use the example that’s closest to rats, when my boyfriend first bought our apartment, there were mice. He didn’t like setting traps, so he got a cat, knowing that the presence and odor of a cat would probably keep mice away. It did eventually work – we haven’t had mice for 5 years now. Before that, our cat Ali caught two mice – and both times he just played with them and didn’t kill them. He did this while we were out of the house; the minute we saw him with them, my boyfriend put on a pair of thick gloves and carefully got them away from the cat. We then brought them outside to a nearby park, and let them go. The only way we’d kill a living thing would be if it were a danger that was impossible to get rid of any way – for example, lice or ticks.
You're a good person and I enjoy your writing.
However, the two recent positions that you advocate -- animals' lives as important as people & allowing unrestricted illegal immigration -- are extreme when compared to the general population and I'm trying to demonstrate some unsavory implications of holding those views.
In your counter-example response to me, you choose to use situations (spider in the bath) where your life is just mildy inconvenienced. I'd like to stick to the rat infestation analogy because it more closely resembles what Beth Mann is experiencing with her neighbors.
So if rats wanted to share your living space (perhaps claiming that their family lineage goes back longer than yours) and they pose no health threat to you -- yet they make noises throughout the night when you want to sleep and/or make messes that you need to clean-up -- would you allow them to stay? Or would you want to call-in the authorities (exterminators, in this case) to return to your peaceful way of life?
By the way, instead of co-existing with the mice, you had creative solutions to displacing them, albeit in a humane manner. However, that doesn't negate the fact that you rid your apartment of the mice. Why? What harm did they cause?
Thanks for an opportunity to comment.
As for the animal issue, I have to tell you first and foremost that a spider in our apartment isn’t a small thing for me: I have severe arachnophobia that I’ve actually seen therapists for. I’m really proud of how I’m dealing with the spider – though I have a feeling that eventually we will have to remove her, as she’s getting really big. The way we do this is with a humane “bug vacuum” that gently aspirates bugs without harming them. They go into a compartment that detaches so that they can be released outside. I DO like mice and such, on the other hand – I had a lot of rodent pets when I was a kid. The reason we didn’t want “wild” mice in our apartment is that, though they are cute little buggers, they can cause health problems, including fleas (we have a cat), and possible disease transmission from urine and feces. There can also be major problems in apartment buildings if one of these poor little guys dies between the walls and the rotting body can’t be easily removed. If we ever had a major infestation of mice or rats, we would probably call an exterminator – but one who uses catch-and-release traps. If that weren’t possible, we’d do it ourselves (my mother, who lives in a rural area, often has squirrels in her house – she gets them out with catch-and-release traps).
I hope that answers your questions. : - )
Perhaps you have said all that you need to regarding your passion. Know that you are writing to a nation where "Political Philosophy" grows from reality videos of high school dropouts with pin-up ambitions; Walls and minds are blurred here into porn soup.
So it should come as no surprise that the "general population" views your current legal status as something much less romantic than the word "expatriate"; Add some four-letter adjectives for the new Evil Empire: Latin & Greek Europe.
Probably not.
For one thing, I'm too much older and, more importantly, a parent.
I'm not sure I could picture loving a place so all-consumingly that I would do anything to live there, including risking deportation every day. That is, without desperation.
I'd imagine there are people who feel that way about Jerusalem, for reasons somewhere between yours and Deborah's.
I'm curious how in tune with your surroundings you feel. I mostly feel out of tune with mine, but I'm used to that and there's a certain advantage in being distinctive.
Look up Santa Anna, sometime. Not exercising some sort of control over who comes into your country is a good way to loose that country.
Donegal – Thank you. Your words bring a much-needed cheer and warmth to me. If you feel single-mindedness is something you desire, I hope you find it.
Seth – I can’t thank you enough for your support.
Kosh – I love your unique way of looking at things! To answer your question, I don’t completely feel in sync with my surroundings – I rarely, if ever, do. I am an island. But I’m very happy to be floating in the sea I’ve chosen. It’s a lovely one.
To answer your other question, I’m not a vegetarian. I believe that animals deserve respect and should be treated humanely, so there are certain meats and seafood dishes I won’t eat (for example, fresh lobster and crab). I buy only free-range eggs and free-range chicken. I wish I could be a vegetarian but I feel like it’s very difficult; it’s not that I love meat more than any other food, but I feel that it has nutritional value that’s important. Oryoki Bowl made a comment on one of my recent posts, “Are all lives equal?”, where she talked about a concept called “ahimsa” – meaning without cruelty. Reading her words, and doing further research, I believe that this sums up my beliefs about eating meat. Nevertheless, I still feel somewhat conflicted about not being a vegetarian….
Monsieur Chariot – Un grand ‘Merci’! It is always a pleasure to be visited by you, good sir, and I eagerly await your next post.
Goedjn – Look up “Danton”, “Robespierre”, and many, many other revolutionaries from countries around the world. Most of them aren’t/weren’t immigrants.
I have lived much like you, Alysa, my life dictated by love, mostly, only the places I've lived and loved, happened to be in the U.S....so far.
The only reason I say "much like you" is because I would live where I loved even if homeless, and I did. I chose my beloved place and stayed there, homeless. Working a job, but no means for a home yet, so I lived in the back of the truck with two small children next to a beautiful lake until I found a home. Yes, I was escaping a bad marriage, but sensibility said "go back east to family" and I chose the beautiful spot in Oregon, alone, because I loved it so much. I did eventually find a home, of course, but I realized then that I'd do what it takes to stay where I loved. If it happened to be abroad, I'd find a way too.
I think this speaks to not only the place you love, but also to youth, as the price I paid to live where I loved meant I lived far away from family, a price that got larger the older I got, the price I'm not sure I'd pay again if I had it all to do over...even though we had the means to visit now and then, I cannot get back those years.
Then I think, "C'est la vie." (Yes, I think that in French -- 8 years of French I studied, like a girl dressed up for the prom and no one to go with, I have all this language, although maybe remnants now, and no one to speak to, but I still think certain phrases in French first.)
I think some of us *must* live as our passions dictate (not amorous, whoever, whatever, passions necessarily, but Life passions, like I must live in Paris!) I know I did.
I am still a firm believer in following those passions...and after writing what I wrote above, I do know I just may have chosen the same path anyway, even being able to look back as I now can...I was raised to live life fully, I think my family understands. As you must know, for travelers, there is always that push/pull if you left loving family behind...
Another excellent essay : )
(sorry for the super-long comment, I always find much to ponder with your posts...)
I have lived much like you, Alysa, my life dictated by love, mostly, only the places I've lived and loved, happened to be in the U.S....so far.
The only reason I say "much like you" is because I would live where I loved even if homeless, and I did. I chose my beloved place and stayed there, homeless. Working a job, but no means for a home yet, so I lived in the back of the truck with two small children next to a beautiful lake until I found a home. Yes, I was escaping a bad marriage, but sensibility said "go back east to family" and I chose the beautiful spot in Oregon, alone, because I loved it so much. I did eventually find a home, of course, but I realized then that I'd do what it takes to stay where I loved. If it happened to be abroad, I'd find a way too.
I think this speaks to not only the place you love, but also to youth, as the price I paid to live where I loved meant I lived far away from family, a price that got larger the older I got, the price I'm not sure I'd pay again if I had it all to do over...even though we had the means to visit now and then, I cannot get back those years.
Then I think, "C'est la vie." (Yes, I think that in French -- 8 years of French I studied, like a girl dressed up for the prom and no one to go with, I have all this language, although maybe remnants now, and no one to speak to, but I still think certain phrases in French first.)
I think some of us *must* live as our passions dictate (not amorous, whoever, whatever, passions necessarily, but Life passions, like I must live in Paris!) I know I did.
I am still a firm believer in following those passions...and after writing what I wrote above, I do know I just may have chosen the same path anyway, even being able to look back as I now can...I was raised to live life fully, I think my family understands. As you must know, for travelers, there is always that push/pull if you left loving family behind...
Another excellent essay : )
(sorry for the super-long comment, I always find much to ponder with your posts...)