immigrants in the uk

People sometimes told me not to call myself a foreigner. They watched my life in England, thought I’d fitted in, and wanted me to know that I was one of them. I appreciated what they meant. But after six years in the UK, that kindness could also be a little frustrating, because it downplayed how much work it had taken to be here.

Being Canadian hadn’t removed the worry

When I talked about the stress of visas, one response I kept hearing was that I was a Commonwealth citizen, so I didn’t need to worry. I understood what people were trying to say, but it hadn’t matched my own experience. In the account I shared in 2022, I’d still had to apply, be approved and pay the fees. I couldn’t simply arrive at the border and announce that I was Canadian. I wished it worked that way.

Being Canadian had helped me with one particular route. The first visa I’d come to the UK on was the Tier 5 Youth Mobility Scheme visa, and my nationality had made me eligible for it. That was a real advantage in my own story, but it hadn’t meant that the application and all its worry disappeared. I still had to go through the process. Being told not to worry about visas didn’t make sense when I’d already had to worry about them repeatedly.

I’d fought to be in the UK over those six years. I’d paid a lot of money and cried a lot of tears. It had been quite a journey, and I wanted to remember how difficult it had been so that I could appreciate how far I’d come. Calling myself a foreigner wasn’t me overlooking the life I’d built here. It was part of recognising the work I’d put into it.

Assumptions about my life didn’t match it

Other comments were much less welcoming. Whenever I talked about the NHS, I received comments and even emails accusing me of being a foreigner abusing it, telling me I shouldn’t use it and should go home. I loved the NHS and was truly grateful for it. I’d also paid quite a lot of money towards it through the surcharges in my own visa applications. I wasn’t here to abuse it, and ideally I would have preferred not to need to use it at all.

I was so far into this process that, while explaining it, I lost count of whether I’d had three visas or four. What I did know was that I’d paid those costs along the way. People could have an opinion about me, but the idea that I was simply getting something for nothing didn’t describe what I’d experienced.

I also heard that foreigners were coming to the UK just to claim benefits. Those comments came in messages and emails, and sometimes face to face. My own residence permits had said “no public funds”. That was the condition I was describing in my 2022 account, alongside paying for my visas, paying the NHS surcharge and paying taxes and National Insurance. I was talking about what my own situation had involved, rather than pretending I could speak for every immigrant.

Welcome mattered, but so did the expiry date

I didn’t think it made sense to say every foreigner was terrible and ruining the country. I also didn’t think it made sense to say every foreigner was good and followed every rule. I could explain my experience, and that was what I was trying to do. The same assumptions kept coming up, even though they were far removed from the applications, costs and uncertainty I’d lived with.

The friendly “don’t call yourself a foreigner” comments came from a different place, and I knew people weren’t trying to dismiss my effort. I appreciated them wanting to include me. It was very sweet to be told that I was a Brit now, and knowing people saw me as one of them warmed my heart.

But at that point, my permission to stay still had an expiry date. In the back of my mind there was another fight ahead, another point at which I’d have to prove myself again. I wasn’t here indefinitely yet. Being welcomed and remembering that uncertainty were both part of my life in England, and being included didn’t make me forget how hard I’d worked to stay.

Watch my response to common misconceptions about foreigners in the UK.