[LINK] "Why more binational couples are coming to Canada"

[rfmcdonald]

Noreen Fagan writes in Xtra! about how many same-sex binational couples, and not only in the United States, move to Canada as the only way that they can keep their families together.

I walked with purpose, my boots hitting the floor in a tempo that echoed my urgency. My mouth was dry and anxiety had sunk into the creases on my face. My family walked behind me, no one daring to talk in case my composure collapsed. I knew where to go and what to do. In my hand — now sweaty — I gripped an unassuming brown envelope that carried my family’s future in it. Our Canadian immigration papers.

It was just after midnight in early March 2007. We were walking down a wide hallway from the plane into Toronto’s Pearson International Airport, towards a glass window with signs directing new immigrants inside. We entered the room and went to the last counter that was open, handed our papers over to a small woman who, in a matter of fact way, stamped our papers, took our photographs and confirmed our permanent resident status before shuffling us toward customs. Like it was nothing.

It didn’t register right away that we were basically home free. Less than an hour later we walked out of the airport. We were tired but exhilarated — the relief was palpable. Only then could I let myself breathe. We hugged: me, my partner Tamara and our two boys. But it was Sebastian, our eldest son, who stirred up the emotion in all of us when he stopped and, referring back to the immigration officer said, “Mum, I like this country. That was the first time we have ever been called a family.”

Walking out of the airport that night, stamped papers in hand, was the last step on a journey that began when I first came out as a lesbian in Lusaka, Zambia in 1993. At 30 years old, I left a seven-year marriage and, with two young sons, embraced my sexual orientation in a country where proven incidents of homosexual conduct could land you in jail for up to 40 years.

It was then that I began my search for a place that my family could call home. It was a journey that, when I met my partner Tamara, turned epic. It took us from Zambia via the United States to Canada.

My partner is American and I am Zambian. We have been together for 12 years and have raised two sons — we are a family in our eyes, in our friends’ eyes, in the eyes of the Canadian government — but not according to the Zambian or United States governments. There, we have no status and no chance of living as a couple or a family.

“We considered a marriage between Noreen and my gay brother but what kind of a message is that to give your children?” says Tam when people ask her about other options. “Trying to teach them tolerance and pride, telling them there is nothing to be ashamed of — but, you need to lie to the social workers, your teachers, just about everyone.”

When it came down to it, living in the US was a short-term answer to a lifelong commitment. My sons and I moved there from Zambia in 2000 knowing that the chances of living there permanently depended heavily on the political climate. After four years of living together in the US, with no recognition as a couple or a family in sight, we applied to immigrate to Canada — something we later learned is a common strategy for binational same-sex couples.

The decision was wrought with emotion. Tam was devastated that she would have to leave the US, her family and her job. In turn, I was angry that, as a queer couple, we had to pay a high price for living in the US — higher taxes because Tam was considered a single person, $20,000 a year in university fees in order to keep my student visa. There was no possibility of socking away any money with a family of four living on one salary and with no idea of what the future held.

In the end, it was the boys’ future and our desire to see them in a welcoming environment that caused us to buckle down and start the lengthy application process. We spent months completing paperwork and pooling family funds. After the application was in, we waited anxiously for two years until we were finally accepted as permanent residents of Canada.

By Aug 11, 2008, we were ready to finally move. We packed the last of our things in a minivan and headed off to Canada, leaving behind our friends and our community in Carrboro, North Carolina. It was one of the hardest things that I have ever done — to leave friends who had become like family to us. Leaving them was, and still is, a harsh reminder of the sacrifices we have made in order to be accepted as a family. Though we’re certainly not the only ones.

Go, read the rest.