Why I Embraced the Title of Gay Expat
The Gay Expat Chronicles continue with me getting doxed by the far right
‘Expat?!’ my Swedish partner asked. ‘Isn’t that a name that only Americans use?’
I chuckled, but then thought about it. I pictured a loud, well-off American explaining the ideological reasons why he decided to move to a different country. Repeatedly.
I’ve been self-conscious about how I come across since moving to Sweden for love. I want to avoid being that stereotypical American as much as possible. Though my accent will always give me away, I know I’ll be able to adapt to the culture just fine.
But I struggle with what to call myself. Expat? Immigrant? Refugee? There’s a range of meanings for each of these, including how they’ve been used in the past.
Yet the main reason I moved 4,800 miles across the world is that I fell in love with a Swedish man. Our story is one where we were brought together by our common widower-hood. We spent two years dating VERY long distance while learning how to create new memories to buoy up the painful ones.
My Swedish guy’s late partner also moved to Sweden from the US. There was a joke between them that the late partner was a ‘love refugee.’ I’d love to claim that title, too, but the reasons for my…
