An American in England: Voiceless in the Referendum

On June 23rd, Brits across the country (and some in other countries) will be taking to the polls to vote in the Referendum. The question being put forth is whether the U.K. should remain in the European Union, or leave. You can't pick up a newspaper, switch on a television, or tune in to a radio station without hearing about the Referendum. As with every election, there is mud-slinging from both sides, "experts" from both sides, and people I love from both sides. But as the vote draws nearer and people's opinions become clearer I have to question: Do they love me?

I am finding it more and more challenging to believe people who call me "friend" honestly mean it if they are voting to leave the EU. See, my friends know my story of immigration. My friends know the British system wouldn't let me into the country with my British husband. My friends know I had to use European laws in order to settle in this country. So why would so many "friends" vote against the laws that brought my family home?

I know, I know, perhaps it's a bit inflammatory and even selfish of me to make such suggestions. But I can't help boil with rage when I hear a so-called friend say "there's just too many of them". Them. Them. The them they're talking about is me. They're talking about immigrants. Foreigners. Outcasts. When I hear someone say there's too many, I hear "Jacquelynn, you're not welcome here, we don't want you here, we don't accept you here. You don't contribute to our society, you do nothing to promote us, you do not belong."

The problem is that people think it's okay to say these things to me in the same way that some think it's okay to be racist because "I have a black friend". I'm sorry, having me as your friend does not give you permission to be xenophobic. In fact, because I am your friend is the exact reason you should NOT be xenophobic. You should be my champion, my supporter, my voice when I am left voiceless.

In the Referendum, I will be left voiceless. Never mind. Never mind that my life is here. Never mind I married my husband here. Never mind I gave birth to my son here. Never mind that I am establishing roots here. I'm not important enough to have a voice because I don't have a British passport.

So, friend, I implore you, be my voice. Vote to Remain in the EU.

An American in England: Time to settle down

It's crazy to think the last time I posted I was still living in Poland. The weather was cold, the days were short, and I was very pregnant. It's now six months since my last last post, this week is going to see a heat wave, it's still light at 9 o'clock in the evening, my beautiful baby is over six weeks old...and I'm living in England.

Tea time!

It's a lot different from the first time I moved to England. Back then, I didn't intend to stay. Alexander and I wanted to get married and then travel the world. Well, the original intention was living in Germany. Of course, that didn't quite go as planned, but we definitely traveled the world. This move to England though, the intention is to stay...permanently.

The problem is it's really not as easy as one would think. One of the reasons we didn't settle in the UK to start with was the massive visa fees and the fact that Alexander wasn't in a job since he was finishing University. There are many hurdles you have to leap as a British citizen to get your spouse into the UK, and one of them is an income threshold. Since Alexander wasn't working, he didn't meet that income threshold, and I could only come on a fiancee visa to get married. We just assumed we wouldn't be able to settle in the UK because of the strict immigration requirements. So we took a job in Indonesia, and then a job in Poland. Then one day we heard about the Surender Singh route.

Since Poland is part of the EU and we had established our life there, the Surender Singh route allowed for us to return to live in the UK due to the EU's free movement laws. So I was able to apply for an EEA family permit in order to move to the UK. This is only valid for six months, and even though I wouldn't legally need anything else to stay in the UK, it's much easier to travel in and out of the country if you have a Residence Card. So, when we arrived in January, I immediately applied for my residence card. I received my certificate of application within a few weeks, so I assumed it would be no time before I got the residence card. But February ended, then March passed, and by the time we got through April I started to get worried. Of course, there was no need to worry, and I finally got my Residence documentation this past week.

After four months of living in the UK, I finally feel like I am really living here. I went to get my library card and picked up an application to transfer my driving license. After the heartache I went through getting my Polish license, I am quite relieved it is a simple matter of switching it over. Now that our little one has arrived, we're happy to establish ourselves as a family of three and put down some roots. Of course, that doesn't mean our days of traveling are completely over... I just sent off for our baby's passport today :)

Team Ayton, ready to take on the world!

Home

Alexander and I recently spoke with an immigration attorney in the U.K. and discovered that in order for us to live there, we would have to be separated for a time. The attorney said Alex would have to get a job in the U.K. and work for at least a month before I could file my documents to process a visa which would take a few more weeks. During that time, I would have to be in the U.S. and so I would be separated from my husband for a few months, or even longer if my visa were denied. We couldn't go through all that. Not again.

After this news, I talked to my grandma about our current plan, which is to stay in Poland indefinitely. My grandma did NOT take the news lightly. She hates the thought of her grandkids being bullied, and that is effectively what is happening by the UK Border Agency. We can't live where we want to live because because my passport isn't from the "right" country, so we're being bullied into staying somewhere we never intended to live. I'm not complaining about Poland, it's a nice place, but it's not where we saw ourselves settling. So, through tears and sobs my grandma cried, "Why can't you just come home?"

Home.

Dictionary.com defines this noun as:

a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.

By this definition, my home is Kostrzyn nad Odra, Poland, so, grandma, I am home. Of course, that's not what grandma meant. The second definition is:

the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

By this definition, my affections (fond attachment, devotion, or love) lie with my husband, who lives in Kostrzyn nad Odra, Poland, so, once again, I am home. Yet, this was also not what grandma meant.

When my grandma made her tearful request, she meant I should just take myself and my husband and move to the U.S. The problem is, quite simply, that's not our home. My husband is British with family in the U.K., his parents live in France, our first home as a married couple was Indonesia, my family lives all over the U.S, and we now live in Poland. What is our home?

Excuse me, dictionary.com, but I have my own definition of home, which can't be summarized with a cursory handful of words. Home is waking up to my husband's kisses and a cup of coffee. Home is teasing my husband about losing his British vocabulary after time away from his native country. Home is trying new recipes and having my husband devour each one of them, even when they don't turn out quite right. Home is arguing over who should wash the dishes or take out the trash and then laughing over such silly arguments (perhaps after a few hours of moping). Home is falling asleep next to my husband and grabbing him in the night when I have a bad dream. Home is happiness, laughter, and love.

And I beg your pardon, U.K. Border Agency, but you have no right to separate a home.