No, I didn’t marry my partner for a paper. but i understand if you do

During lockdown in 2020, I swiped right on the cutest guys I’d ever seen on and off the dating app BLK. At that time, I had no expectations of finding true love. “Am I in love?” I would say to myself. “Absolutely not. At this point in my life, I can’t imagine such a luxury. To be honest, as a Latino immigrant, I worry about what it would be like if I romantically pursued U.S. citizenship.

After studying in the United States for four years on an F-1 visa, I wanted to avoid the biggest stereotype upon graduation: the “my visa is expiring soon, so getting married is the solution” pipeline. But I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing wrong with people taking this route, whether they’re marrying for love, like me, or just for the papers.

I was single at the time and had no intention of being in a relationship, let alone being with someone to get a green card. I’m in my hot girl summer phase, the post-undergrad version. I was not looking for a man, but I was passionately looking for a job.

After a series of romantic adventures in college, the last thing I wanted to do was risk falling in love, knowing that my immigration status would hang over us. Since I may have to return to Italy, where I was born, or travel to Brazil, where most of my family members live, I plan to travel to Brazil in case I don’t get my Optional Practical Training (OPT), which is a temporary permit, approved. But life had other plans for me.

While I was waiting to hear about my OPT application, I started downloading a bunch of dating apps out of boredom and wanted to experience the dopamine rush of swiping left and right. After all, regardless of my legal status, I was just a girl confined to a college campus with only three people on my floor. I come from a welcoming, community-focused, family-oriented culture and I want to connect with people in some way.

For months, Brian, the handsome man I swiped right on, exchanged text messages, FaceTime calls, and Instagram likes with. When I moved out of college after graduation, we had the opportunity to hang out more often. We started out as friends, skateboarding in Hoboken, New Jersey. Grocery shopping in Jersey City; movie nights in Manhattan; hugs and nose kisses while listening to music in Prospect Park.

We live in the present every day while the world around us seems to be falling apart. However, in a desperate global climate, love was in the air and we officially got married in August 2020.

I married an American citizen for love, but it wasn’t long before I heard unsolicited comments about my marriage. At work, when hanging out with American friends and in casual encounters with other immigrant acquaintances, I hear comments like, “You did the right thing,” and blink. Or: “Now you can do whatever you want.” Their words stung me. Is it hard to believe that I got married for love and not paperwork? Do I look like I’m craving a green card or U.S. citizenship? What if I did? This would make me a bad people?

The United States offers many immigrants few pathways to citizenship, so it’s understandable that some would seek to marry through paternity. Sometimes it’s their only recourse. But just because this does happen doesn’t mean it’s the default arrangement. Not all Latins marry to adjust their status. We have nuanced stories and journeys. But at the same time, we shouldn’t morally malign those who take this path; instead, we should criticize a system that makes it difficult for people to stay and thrive in America.

For Samantha* from São Paulo, Brazil, marrying for documentation was a way to relieve the mental stress of constantly trying to maintain status. Samantha originally worked as a nanny in Connecticut and later spent many years as a foreign student. She excelled and got a job. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, but when the epidemic hit, she lost her role and her future in the United States became unclear. She started to panic.

However, this is a burden. “It makes me frustrated and I have to spend more money to maintain [my] status,” she told Refinery29 Somos. Add to that the loss of her family to COVID-19 and being unable to return home, and it was too much to bear.

Her friends suggested she take the most obvious route: get married for papers. But Samantha always thought she would get a green card “on her own merits,” but she was opposed to the idea from a moral perspective. Her friends told her she needed to rethink the situation.

With no other immediate solution, she learned about a woman who had an arranged marriage. Her services are priced at $20,000. When she recounted the harrowing situation to a former friend, he proposed to her. “Love doesn’t necessarily exist,” she said. “Some of his friends agree [of doing] This one, but not his therapist. When his therapist advised against continuing the process of marrying me, he said that no matter what he was going through [was] This is nothing compared to my experience as an immigrant in the United States, [and] How expensive and mentally exhausting [it was]”.

For Sara*, from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, marrying a friend was a way to escape an abusive relationship. “I have been living in the United States since 2016,” she said. “I met my ex-partner at the gym. I was very interested in him and we started chatting at the gym for a while. Then I got pregnant on our first date.

When she became a parent, she felt lonely. “His family didn’t help, and my family couldn’t come to see me,” she said. “He was very distant and cold.” He eventually proposed to her, and she accepted, thinking it would provide her with some security. “After we got engaged, it was even worse,” she added. “He didn’t want me to work; he didn’t want me to work. He didn’t trust me with my finances. He kept making fun of my accent.

Sarah made several attempts to establish a relationship with her ex-partner for the sake of her children. Despite spending many long months together, their love languages ​​and cultural identities didn’t match. With little romance, respect or concern from her partner, Sarah said bluntly, “I told him straight up that what we were in was not a relationship.” After leaving the relationship, she was able to regain her self-worth, And find the right people around you—including a friend and a U.S. citizen who wants to help. She got a second proposal and she said yes. She explained that they were not romantically in love, but it was a gesture of love and security.

While she waited to get married, she and her daughter were safe, living in New York, with more possibilities than before. “Once I realized that my relationship was an abusive one, I started attending support group meetings with other women who had experienced similar abuse,” Sara said. “I’m recovering now and still in the process.”

This is one thing you can do to adjust your form. Getting married and receiving my green card changed the trajectory of my career. While I developed and developed my writing skills in graduate school, I didn’t have the ability to pursue any career I wanted to pursue at my own pace. I also felt like I had to be a certain type of writer so that others would take me more seriously. Now that my immigrant status no longer defines me, I am free to be the writer and researcher I want to be—or anyone else I dream of.

The same was true for Samantha, who spent several years getting her green card after marrying a friend, which led to a different life. “Keeping multiple visas before getting married fundamentally changed my identity,” she said. “I’ve always been independent and determined, but I’m just now learning how to get out of survival mode. I’m learning to do things I love rather than just doing things I have to do to survive.

This is easier said than done. The trauma of being an immigrant with limited opportunities in the United States doesn’t go away once you adjust to your identity. Sometimes I still feel impostor syndrome from having everything I have, especially the unconditional romantic love that keeps me here. It’s hard to accept the fact that my worth, in some people’s eyes, is a direct result of finding love.

But this is enough for us now. I’m not suddenly smarter, braver, or richer just because I was able to get a green card. If we have to get married—for love or just marriage—for others to see the real us, then it’s clear the system is flawed.

*Editor’s note: The names of some sources have been changed to protect privacy.

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