What’s in a Name? Unpacking the terms expat, immigrant, and migrant

I admit it: I liked calling myself an expat. Something about the word sounded cool, even though no Mexican has ever called me, or any other foreigner I know, an “expatriada.” They refer to us as either extranjeros or gringos.

I thought of this recently when two Mexico News Daily readers commented that my use of the word ‘expat’ in an article I wrote was offensive and elitist. I pointed out, defensively, that the Oxford Dictionary’s definition of expat is pretty innocuous: “a person who lives outside their native country.” 

What’s not to like? But while the word ‘expat’ may seem neutral at first, its implications are not. As you probably remember from high school English class, there’s denotation, the literal, textbook meaning of a word, as opposed to connotation, the subjective idea or sense — positive or negative, but rarely neutral — associated with that word. And it turns out, the connotation of the word “expat” is very charged. 

Unpacking the terms expat, immigrant, and migrant

What makes one person an expat and another an immigrant? I doubt most foreigners who move to Mexico think of themselves as ‘immigrants’. Moving here, for most of us, is a lifestyle choice and not the result of economic deprivation or dire circumstances in our home country, such as oppression or persecution. Even those foreigners who move to Mexico because they can’t afford to buy a home in the U.S. are still privileged economically, compared to most Mexicans.

The truth is, the word expat carries assumptions about class, race, education, affluence, and privilege, and usually refers to Western white people working or retiring abroad.

There are a few exceptions. For example, I’ve met professionals from India who work in the US high-tech sector. Although they’re not White, the kind of work they do gives them expat status (although they may be perceived as immigrants because they’re dark-skinned, just as affluent African Americans are sometimes stereotyped as people on welfare). 

“Migrants” are people searching for higher pay and better living conditions, who move back and forth across a border to find work, like seasonal crop harvesting or construction. I’ve never met a foreign resident in Mexico who picks avocados and sends money back to their family in the U.S., the way Latino migrants in California pick strawberries and send money back to Mexico. 

Then there are the foreigners who work within the Mexican economy, who don’t fit into any of these categories. In Guanajuato, for example, where my husband and I live, we know foreign residents who teach English at the University of Guanajuato or perform as musicians in the university symphony. Their salary is decent only by Mexican standards, and their pensions are small. These foreigners have the privilege that comes with skin color, without the usual economic advantages.

To me, the word “immigrant” sounds less affluent, more like a person searching for better economic opportunities, than the word expat, which sounds classy and hip. No wonder I liked the sound of it.

Changing the words we use will not, by itself, change the inequities that privilege brings, but it’s a start. How we refer to ourselves and others carries weight. I, for one, have decided not to use the term ‘expat’ anymore. I’m an extranjera, a foreign resident of Mexico.

How do you feel about the word expat being offensive in nature? Does it describe us best, or is there another word you would use when describing yourself?

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers.