When, in the midst of lockdown in 2020, I swiped right on the cutest guy I’ve ever seen in or out of BLK dating appI had no expectations of finding true love. “Me, are you falling in love?” I would tell myself. “Absolutely not. I can’t think of such a luxury at this stage of my life.” Honestly, as a Latino immigrant, I was worried about what it would be like to romantically pursue a US citizen.
After four years in the United States as an international student on an F-1 visa, I wanted to avoid the biggest post-graduation stereotype: my-visa-is-about-to-expire-so-marriage-is-the-solution pipeline. But I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing wrong with people going down that path, whether they marry for love like I did or marry purely for papers.
At the time I was single and not thinking about exploring a romantic relationship, let alone being with someone to get a green card. I was very much in my Hot Girl Summer phase, after the undergraduate version. Instead of a man, I was desperately looking for a job.
“After four years in the United States as an international student on an F-1 visa, I wanted to avoid the biggest post-graduation stereotype: my-visa-is-about-to-expire-so-marriage-is-the-way-out . But I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing wrong with people going down that path, whether they marry for love like I did or marry purely for papers.”
Julia Baldini
After a string of college-age romances, the last thing I wanted was to risk falling in love, knowing that my immigration would be found out. Since I might have to go back to Italy, where I was born, or go to Brazil, where most of my family members live, I made plans to leave for Brazil in case I don’t get the Optional Practical Training (OPT), temporary permit, approved . But life had other plans for me.
As I waited for news on my OPT application, I started downloading a bunch of dating apps out of boredom, wanting to experience the dopamine rush left and right. After all, regardless of my legal status, I was just a girl confined to a campus with only three people on my floor. Coming from a warm, community-focused and family-oriented culture, I wanted to connect with people in some way.
For months, Brian, that handsome man I swooned over and exchanged texts, FaceTime calls, and Instagram likes for. Once I moved off campus, right after graduation, we had a chance to hang out more often. We started as friends, with skateboarding dates in Hoboken, New Jersey. grocery shopping in Jersey City; movie nights in Manhattan. and listening to music while hugging and kissing noses in Prospect Park.
“I married an American citizen for love, but it wasn’t long before I heard unsolicited comments about my union.”
Julia Baldini
We lived each day in the moment, while around us the world seemed to be crumbling. In this desperate global climate, however, love was in the air and we made it official in August 2020. Four years later, on Cinco de Mayo, we tied the knot.
I married a US citizen for love, but it wasn’t long before I heard unsolicited comments about my union. At work, while hanging out with American friends and during occasional meetings with fellow immigrant acquaintances, I heard comments like “You did the right thing,” followed by a wink. Or: “Now you can do whatever you want.” Their words stung. Is it so hard to believe that I married for love and not for papers? Do I look thirsty for a green card or US citizenship? And what if I did? That would make me one bad face;
The United States provides few paths to citizenship for many immigrants, and it is understandable why some seek to marry for priests. Sometimes it’s the only recourse they have. But just because that’s the case doesn’t mean it’s the default setting. Not all Latinos marry to adjust their status. We have different stories and journeys. At the same time, however, we should not morally vilify people who follow this path. Instead, we should criticize a system that makes it so difficult for people to stay and thrive in the United States.
“The United States provides few paths to citizenship for many immigrants, and it is understandable why some seek to marry for priests.”
Julia Baldini
For Samantha* from Sao Paulo, Brazil, getting married was a way to ease the mental stress of constantly trying to maintain your status. Samantha, who first worked as a nanny in Connecticut, spent years as a foreign student. He excelled and got a job. Everything seemed to fall into place, but when the pandemic hit, she lost her role and her future in the US became unclear. There was panic. She consulted a lawyer, who advised her to re-enroll in school to buy time.
It was a burden though. “It was so frustrating for me, that I had to pay more money to maintain [my] situation,” Somos tells Refinery29. Coupled with not being able to return home when she lost family members to COVID-19, it became too much to bear.
Her boyfriend suggested she take the most obvious route: marry for papers. But Samantha, who always believed she would get a green card on “her own merits,” was against the idea on moral grounds. Her boyfriend told her she needed to reframe how she thought about the situation.
With no other immediate solution, he learned of a woman who arranged marriages. Her services came with a $20,000 price tag. When she told a former good friend about the plight, he proposed to her. “The love wasn’t necessarily there,” she says. “Some of his friends were in favor [of doing] it, but not his therapist. When his therapist suggested not going ahead with the marriage process with me, he said that no matter what [was] nothing compared to my experience as an immigrant in the US, [and] how costly and mentally exhausting [it was].”
For Sara* from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, marrying a boyfriend is a way out of an abusive relationship. “I’ve been living in the US since 2016,” he says. “I met my ex-partner at the gym. I was interested and we started talking for a while at the gym. Then I got pregnant on our first date.”
As she dealt with parenthood, she felt alone. “His family wasn’t helping and my family couldn’t visit me,” she says. “He was very distant and cold.” Eventually he proposed and she accepted, thinking he could offer her some security. “After the engagement, it was even worse,” she adds. “He didn’t want me to work. he didn’t trust me with finances. He kept making fun of my accent.”
“Getting married and getting a green card changed the course of my career.”
Julia Baldini
Sarah put a lot of effort into her relationship with her ex-partner, for the sake of their baby. Despite many months together, their love languages and cultural identities did not match. With little romance, respect or care from her partner, Sara became vocal: “I made it very clear to him that what we had was not a relationship.” After leaving the relationship, she was able to regain her self-esteem and find the right people to be around—among them, a friend and US citizen who wanted to help. She got a second marriage proposal and said yes. They’re not romantically in love, but it’s a gesture that comes from a place of love and security, she explains.
While she waits to get married, she and her daughter are safe, living in New York with more possibilities than before. “After I realized my relationship was abusive, I started attending support group meetings with other women who have been victims of similar abuse,” says Sara. “I’m healing now, still in that process.”
That’s one thing adjusting your status can do. Marriage and a green card changed the course of my career. While I cultivated and nurtured my writing in graduate school, I lacked the ability to take on any work I wanted to pursue at my own pace. I also felt that I had to be a certain kind of writer so that others would take me more seriously. Now that my immigration status isn’t what defines me, I’m free to be the kind of writer and researcher — or whatever else I dream of — that I want to be.
“If we have to get married – for love or just for papers – so that everyone else can see the real us, then clearly the system is flawed.”
Julia Baldini
Similarly for Samantha, getting a green card, a process she took a few years after marrying her friend, let her lead a different life. “Having multiple visas before I got married really changed who I am,” she says. “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 like, instead of just doing things I have to do to survive.”
This may be easier said than done. The trauma of being an immigrant to the United States with limited opportunities doesn’t just go away once you adjust your status. Sometimes I still feel impostor syndrome because I have everything I have, especially the unconditional romantic love that let me stay here. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that, in the eyes of some, my worth is a direct result of finding love.
But we are enough as we are. I didn’t suddenly become smarter, braver, and richer because I’m able to get a green card. If we have to get married — for love or just for papers — so that everyone else can see the real us, then it’s clearly the system that’s flawed.
*Editor’s note: The names of some sources have been changed to protect their privacy.
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