A Conversation With a Canadian Who Has Lived in the U.S. for 11 Years and is About to Be Kicked Out

Jessica Tate is a name I made up for a Canadian person living in New York City that spoke with me recently about her life.

LS: Tell me how you came to be a Canadian person living in New York City.

JT: Well. I’ve actually been living in the U.S. for almost 11 years, which seems all sorts of insane to me. I went to college in Vermont and got my graduate degree in Washington, D.C. After grad school I got a job in New York, and all my friends were here, and it seemed like the place to be to do big things and make ART and the like, so I came. I’ve been living and working here for over two years now.

LS: How does that work, paperwork-wise, for a Canadian to go to college in the U.S.? Do you get into school, and then get a visa for the duration? Or you have to apply every year?

JT: Oh the papers. So many papers. The process as a student — at least for me — was fairly straightforward, especially if you have a supportive school. In undergrad especially, much of the work was done by my college, and I signed a bunch of things and they sent helpful reminders telling me to send this form or that or risk being deported, which was sweet of them. They were incredibly hands on. So yes, you get a visa for all four years, and then after school you are given one year of OPT, which I believe stands for Optional Practical Training, meaning you can be legally employed in the U.S. as long as the job is in your field of study. I didn’t take advantage of that as an undergrad, but after grad school (which was a similar process, although less hand-holdy) I held onto that OPT for dear life. Despite the legality and commonality of the process, you do frequently get hassled at the border — and I had an easy time of it, as a white female coming from Canada. There were many, many workshops for students coming from the Middle East, etc., about which points of entry they shouldn’t use, what to say to border guards, all of that.

LS: Does it cost extra money to do all this visa stuff? Was your tuition higher? Also isn’t college in Canada cheap?

JT: Yes. Yes and yes.

The fees as a student aren’t too bad — I think around $350 for the applications — but tuition in the U.S. is much, much, much more expensive. The schools I looked at in Canada would have been around $6,000 a year, which actually makes me a little ill to think about. I am extremely lucky; my parents made it clear when I was applying that if I was able to get into a school I really wanted to go to, we would make it work financially. The small liberal arts model doesn’t really exist at home, and I wanted that sort of environment. I also wanted to get as far away as possible from anyone I knew. So my parents paid for college and that was that. It’s obscene, really, how lucky I was. The universities in Canada are great and so much more reasonable and I wouldn’t have thought to look abroad without my family’s support. For graduate school I had a merit scholarship, but still required support from my parents as one of the stipulations of a student visa is that you can only work 20 hours a week (which I did), and all of that work must be on campus (where the best jobs paid $12/hr). So even then, there isn’t really a way to make a living wage as an international student.

LS: So what happened after graduation!?

JT: I got a job! At a literary non-profit in New York. I applied and was approved for my OPT, and worked at my organization for about eight months before we had the, “So, you know I’m Canadian…” conversation.

LS: So because of the OPT you didn’t have to have that convo earlier. The paperwork just worked out? I forget what happens when you apply for a job. I guess you get it and then on your first day they’re like, bring your passport. So tell me about that conversation.

JT: Since the organization I worked for was pretty small, they hadn’t really dealt with any of these issues before, so it was more like they would ask questions and I would start to explain and they would glaze over and we would move on. It only became an issue when I knew my OPT was coming to an end and we would have to address next steps. That’s when my bosses were suddenly like, “Oh, right. You’re Canadian.” So I explained the options as best as I could, and also offered to cover any costs, as I knew they would be unlikely to do so. That’s not the case if you’re working for a larger company, one that has an in-house legal team and experience with immigration — they do the paperwork for you, process everything, really act as your advocate. In my case I wanted to make things as stress-free as possible for my employers, so I hired a lawyer myself and basically just put forms in front of them that they signed. We worked on a job description together and I answered their questions as best I could. It was good in that I learned a lot about the utter absurdity of getting a work permit, but it also meant that I ended up shouldering all of the financial responsibility. And at the end of all of that, I got a visa through NAFTA that would allow me to work at my organization for three years.

LS: That sounds really stressful. But also really badass of you, to Make It Work. That you offered to pay is interesting to me — I’m sure I would have done the same, made it easy. Did you ever think that maybe you shouldn’t have offered? Or negotiated for them to pay some of it? Also, how much did it end up costing?

JT: Yeah, it was horribly un-Lean In of me. I was so petrified that they would realize the extra hassle of having a Canadian employee wasn’t worth it that I went out of my way to make it easy on them. The costs were substantial — I paid most of the visa fees, which ended up being around $2,000 (also I had to write the check to the Department of Homeland Security, which felt super dirty), and my parents covered the legal costs. It was, again, another situation in which I wouldn’t have found myself if my parents weren’t available for financial support. The system is not a friendly one. The visa I’m on, for example, restricts any secondary work, so I’m not allowed to get a part time gig to supplement my non-profit salary. And the application process is bizarrely convoluted and confusing, even for a native English speaker.

LS: What was it like to ask your parents for that money? Or did they offer?

JT: My parents and I had talked about the financial implications of my staying in the States after grad school, and when the time came for me to apply for the visa, I asked if they would be willing to cover the legal fees — knowing that they would say yes, as they had made clear for most of my life that they were available for financial support if we both felt it was valid and necessary. They’ve never made me feel guilty or beholden. And they are very clear that their support is limited to education/medical/legal, etc. Not like, purses.

LS: So when is your three years up?

JT: Well. Ha ha. My visa was valid until 2015, but I just got good and fired! The visa is attached to the job, so no job = no visa.

LS: Ahhhhh! Why were you fired? Is that as bad as asking someone why they’re in prison? (I read that you’re not supposed to ask that.)

JT: Well being fired has meant I’ve been watching a lot of Orange Is the New Black so I’m feeling totally versed in prison protocol.

I think I was officially “let go,” but saying “fired” really fuels my righteous anger so I’m sticking with it.

It’s all still a mystery to me. The official story was that my boss determined my visa was no longer valid. It was phrased as though my visa had been declared ineligible and that I had to leave, which was deeply frustrating, since it was entirely my boss’s decision, and one that I had no agency in at all. I would have been much happier had I just been told, “I cannot stand your stupid face, you have to go.” Instead it was presented as though I had done something wrong. It was…unpleasant. (I am still a little angry.)

LS: Well SHIT. That is very unfair and also insane that the decision of one person could kick you out of your job, but also out of your country! Because that is what happens, right? If your visa is attached to your job? How long do you have? What are your options? Do you get unemployment?

JT: It is definitely a solid boot to the ego, which is probably cosmically good for me in some way. People lose their jobs for all sorts of horrifically unjust reasons, but of course because it is happening to me I’m all, “WHAT HOLY TYRANNY IS THIS.”

Truthfully I’d been miserable for many, many months, and hadn’t gotten my shit together to leave because of the extra burden of the visa. And yes, now that I’ve lost my job, I’m no longer legally allowed to stay in the States. The visa becomes ineligible the day you stop working, so I’m currently in legal limbo. As far as I can understand it, no one is going to show up at my door to escort me back to Canada, but I can’t travel out of the country and basically need to get it together as soon as possible. I’ve applied to transfer my TN visa to a visitor visa (another $290, yay), but that petition will most likely be rejected since I’ve already been in the U.S. for six months, which is the longest you can stay as a tourist.

I’ve gone over every option, even briefly considering how I could cobble together $500K to buy a green card. I could try to get another job under the same category, which would be fairly difficult, and I’m honestly really fed up with being restricted professionally in that way. I could get married, which…hahahaha. There’s the H1-B program, but those visas don’t become available until April for jobs starting in October. I could go back to school, but that seems like throwing a lot of money at the problem, especially since I have all the education I need for my current field. So the final, most likely option is that I’ll be moving home in the next month or so. And no, I do not get unemployment. Because I’m Canadian.

LS: I’m Googling buying a green card. Is that basically, setting up a business?

JT: Setting up a business or investing in an existing one, yeah. It would once again involve financial assistance from my parents (HI MOM AND DAD) and that is something I’m hoping to avoid now that I’m basically old and should have figured this all out by now. It also offends me? On some level? About the kind of privilege it entails, and how limiting that is? Also, I’ve given America so much money already — tuition, taxes, bar tabs — but America doesn’t seem to want to give anything back. It’s starting to feel like a really unbalanced relationship.

LS: Have you looked into marriage? I’ve met several people who have married people in order to get them green cards, both for romantic love and friend love. I guess it’s a lot to ask of someone, but exactly how much is it asking, do you know?

JT: I have considered it. I do have friends-of-friends who have done it, and in many ways it is the easiest option. You go to City Hall, you fill out your forms, you do the interview and show them the nice photos of your road trip to Santa Fe, and then you get a green card. Part of my concern is asking anyone to be liable in that way — they could face legal penalties if we were “found out.” Maybe I also have some old-fashioned ideas around marriage and what that means, or at least what I thought it would mean for me when/if it happened. But it’s definitely on the radar. I’ve started looking into it but most of the time I do it with only one eye on the screen, and I freak out halfway through reading all of the regulations because it just seems like this massive thing, you know? Even though it really isn’t. So who knows. Wanna get married?

LS: Yes I’ve always felt that everyone should get their one person to bring over, to sponsor. Maybe more than one. Seems fair! But as we know nothing is actually fair. Your life is very much like the Sandra Bullock/Ryan Reynolds movie The Proposal. Okay, for this one fact of Canadian-ness and green card requirements. Do you have a dashing assistant you can blackmail to marry you?

JT: I used to have interns but they were all smarter than me and also I had no power.

LS: Do you have plans for the next several weeks? Do you feel like you’re going to try to scramble for a job? Or at this point are you sort of resigned to go back.

JT: Ugh. Yeah. No. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing at this point. I feel very frozen. I am basically the biggest over-planner you’ll ever meet, so having this void ahead of me is terrifying and paralyzing. I think I’m giving myself another week or so to see if something magically comes together, but I just feel so exhausted at this point, and that is bordering on resignation. I love New York, my closest friends are here, I feel a sense of community and opportunity, and I don’t want to leave, but I should also say that being resigned to move back to Vancouver is like being resigned to marry Ryan Reynolds — all in all, it’s a pretty sweet deal. My situation is frustrating, yes, and makes me have all sorts of real feelings about immigration reform and the general unfairness of life, but if I get sent home to a beautiful city where there are still plenty of economic opportunities, it will not be the end of the world. I think about how hard some people fight to get here and to stay here, and how desperately they feel the need to escape where they come from, and it makes me both extremely grateful and extremely angry. Nothing about the current immigration model is designed to help, welcome, or empower an individual.

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