I’m an alien, not an expat!

I bought a one-way ticket to Kenya from New York in 2001 at age 23 and have remained here since. This was a weird thing to do. Even more weird was my perspective on living in Kenya. Like Jesus, I wanted to live incarnationally, meaning that I proactively chose to live within the local culture and customs. My housemates have been Kenyan, my colleagues Kenyan – and from other cultures too – and now my husband is also Kenyan. But I am unusual, and in fact sadly alone.

This is because I am a self-identified “alien” or “immigrant” – and not an “expat.” Let me explain, starting with words and moving into culture.

Words are funny things. Take words like “expatriate,” “immigrant,” or “alien.” Technically, they all mean the same thing, more or less, of leaving your country and inhabiting another, but in usage they are said to create hierarchy and dominance, to determine control and power.

Ex·pa·tri·ate

1. One who has taken up residence in a foreign country.
2. One who has renounced one’s native land.

Im·mi·grant

1. A person who leaves one country to settle permanently in another.
2. A plant or animal that establishes itself in an area where it previously did not exist.
3. Brit a person who has been settled in a country of which he is not a native for less than ten years

A·li·en

1. An unnaturalized foreign resident of a country. Also called noncitizen.
2. A person from another and very different family, people, or place.
3. A person who is not included in a group; an outsider.

Maybe most “expats” are not “immigrants” because they’re not coming to take up permanent residence and are merely leaving their native country to live elsewhere. But they are definitely aliens. Yet ask any “expat” if they would be okay being called “immigrants” and I venture to say they would balk at the thought. Why?

People who come to America from foreign countries, particularly with darker skin, are labeled by America/Americans as “immigrants” whereas Americans, particularly with light skin, who immigrate to other nations, call themselves “expatriates” or, more colloquially, “expats.” “Immigrants” are seen to be fleeing a bad life, while “expats” are choosing to live abroad. There is a sense of being better-than-the-locals in taking on this term, whether the person realizes it consciously.

Don’t get me wrong, I like a lot of these expats, but I don’t like the culture it cultivates, or the implications of superiority. Of course, it is important to be amongst your own people when living in a foreign land, to remember culturally shared customs and foods and take the edge off of living life in a foreign culture. I enjoy celebrating Thanksgiving with Turkey, and attending the American Chamber of Commerce 4^th of July party. And its fun to go to Village Market with the American Women’s Association and eat chinese food.

But my problem with most self-proclaimed expats is they don’t live immersed in a foreign culture, and instead create a bubble of their own culture in a foreign land. They live in the same neighborhoods, shop at the same grocery stores, go to the same churches, send their kids to the same schools, and generally organize their lives to rotate around each other, versus integrating within local social networks. They often import their entire household in a sea container, and live well above the means they would be able to if they remained in their home country.

To the expat, Kenyans – or pick your locals in another country – are house-helps or drivers, or a few colleagues, but largely socially irrelevant and seen only down the tip of their nose or as those they are “saving” or “helping” or whose culture exasperates them but is a necessary, continually-lamentable evil they have to put up with in exchange for their nice lifestyle. This is sad, because they’re missing out on a wealth of experiences that would enrich their own lives.

Partially they are not to blame. This is because these expats are brought in to be a cog in the wheel of an international aid agency where all the leadership is white, or are in their Embassy, where all the leadership is white, or are in a company where all the leadership is white. Are you seeing a pattern here? I know of only two Americans in Rotary, for instance, which has 12 clubs in Nairobi alone (one of which I had the privilege of leading as President when I was 26). I also know of no Americans at a church of which I was a founding member, Mavuno, which now has nearly 3,000 members – and Americans are not even allowed to live in the area, South C, because its on America’s “no-go” list as a supposedly high-risk area. Sometimes these warnings are for one’s safety; however, most times they are bordering on ridiculous.

I’m not saying I’m better than expats. I’m just saying that we, as foreigners, are not better than those who surround us.

So I hereby pronounce myself an immigrant, and an alien. It says so right here on my ID: resident alien. An alien from a very weird planet – America.

Are you someone who lives outside your native country? How do you define yourself and why?