#immigrant problems

[shabbytigers]

the new biz bank account that took me two months to sort out got rejected for not having a german iban (european account number) which is illegal, apparently, but difficult to push back on. the hr software help who told me what the problem was very kindly pointed me to a page on how to get revolut to convert my account to a german iban, so i figured this would just be one more damn thing to do, but unfortunately it turns out revolut can issue a personal german iban but not a business one

just find a german bank, right? wrong. the banks here don’t want me as a customer, because us citizen = onerous reporting requirements. they legally have to give you a personal basiskonto with no frills, but they’re under no obligation to give you a merchant account. and they don’t wanna. i can’t get a fucking callback from sparkasse

tl;dr literally don’t know how I’m going to get paid 🙃

have sent the hr person a plaintive email pointing out the law against iban discrimination and describing my situation. the last thing i need is filing a fucking complaint with the eu bureaucracy against the hands down best contract employer i have, so if they double down idek

this is why people renounce u.s. citizenship, and ngl i’d be tempted if i didn’t need to be able to go for family reasons and maintain employability there; just a roiling satanic vortex of vile impositions and preposterous inconveniences

[onlycringepost]

when i was still a new immigrant learning about western culture, i thought moonshine was a dessert like mooncake

[ravingxfxbrickxwall]

Something no one tells the you about the oldest daughter syndrome is that there will come a time when the people pleaser and the peacekeeper starts to deteriorate. Instead it’s the fury of silenced souls that boils inside you.

That fury where you’re ready to throw hands and itching to just take your mother and siblings out of this shitty situation

And then some days you don’t want to take them to find your peace but you feel guilty for not wanting to take them

Instead you make a compromise to yourself that for a short time you’ll get out and catch your breath. Then you take your siblings and your mother out of the hellscape we called home

[primoresplendens]

Knowing how you were privileged enough to move to and start a life in a country that is not your birthplace, but not privileged enough to avoid sustaining irreversible mental damage in the process, (optional: and still somehow wanting to make the best out of that situation)

[brazilspill]

"From far away [Canada] looks like such a great country, but then you bite one of their corn on the cobs and the illusion's broken."

-- My mom, whose hope of one day biting into a North American corn on the cob that isn't sweet was dashed yet again today.

([O Canadá] de longe parece tão bom, mas aí você morde um pedaço de milho norteamericano e a ilusão acaba)

Y'all, corn on the cob isn't supposed to taste sugary, wtf.

Why do you do this to yourselves?

Every time I eat a corn on the cob here I want to ugly cry.

[zediina]

Do non-immigrants understand how fuckin hard it can be to craft a national identity for yourself?

Like it stresses me out when people ask me where I‘m from, which is a normal question to ask but how do I explain to you that this is not a question with a simple answer, because no matter what I say I will feel guilty, like I‘m betraying my other countries of origins or like im not (insert nationality) enough to call it my home

Yes I was born there yes I went to school there yes I know the city like the back of my hand

But also all my friends and neighbors were immigrants and my school was for immigrants and I don’t know much about the culture and history of this place and I don’t speak the dialect

But how can I call my parents‘ countries my home when yes I know the culture and language but only to a certain extent plus I didn’t grow up in that society and I don’t have ties to and memories of one particular place or city

And no matter what country I‘m in something‘s always missing, it never truly feels like home

And even if I do decide to give a simple one word answer by just picking one country and sticking with it someone’s gonna ask/say something and I‘ll have to explain that „well, actually...“ and then I get asked a bunch of questions about why did you move here where is your family from what languages do you speak at home and just. Thanks for being interested but I get these question all the fucking time and sometimes it gets tiring.

Rant over

[queen-of-love-and-beauty]

It’s really hard to explain to people who are not family oriented or live so far away from their family and see them twice a year that you feel guilty when you go out with your girlfriends because you know your mom is sitting at home alone. You are surrounded by friends while your mom’s only connection to her old friends back home is a WhatsApp chat. And even though she encourages you to go out and live your life a part of your heart always shatters when she does so because you know the rest of that unsaid sentence “go out and have fun because I couldn’t do it at your age”.

Your mom didn’t have the means or the freedom to be a twenty something year old on a rooftop sipping an overpriced shitty drink while someone snaps a pretend candid photo you will later use to show off on social media. Another piece of your hearts breaks off when your mom likes your Facebook photo and comments with a bunch of red hearts and heart eyes.

You start hanging out with your mom like she’s your best friend, because she is your best friend. And because she’s all alone in this country she brought you to so you can have a better life. Two years ago you hated that line but now you proudly say it to everyone who asks you how you got here. Your mom brought you here and gave up everything she knew. The least you can do is sacrifice a weekend with friends to take her out instead.

And so you take her on museums dates and she proudly poses next to ancient art with a bright smile and a t-shirt that spells BOSTON on it. All of her friends from back home compliment her on the photo she posts on her Facebook later. The next week you take her to your favorite restaurant downtown and although she complains that it’s too crowded and too loud she makes you take a photo of her holding the cocktail you ordered, even though she tried to convince you she didn’t want it. You take her all over town, to every small rose garden you’ve discovered and to the Public Garden in the Fall so she can take a picture of the glorious trees painted in a fiery red and all the leaves on the ground.

And one day while you take a photo of her walking on the street ahead of you, you realize how lucky you are to have your mom as your best friend. You know you can’t take away her suffering and her years of sacrifice and self denial. You can’t bring her friends across the ocean but damn it you can buy her that red lipstick (cause she keeps stealing yours).

[sunrisedespair]

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Any other immigrants have family who emotionally torture you by telling you that it's your fault that X beloved family member is sick/struggling all because you left years ago and you aren't there to take care of them now?

I feel like nobody ever talks about these parts of being an immigrant. The parts where most of your family hates you and resents you for leaving, where you are either ignored or shamed by them, even though it broke your heart to leave them behind. The parts where you are blamed.