Queer Zoomer Says ‘Moving to Australia Was Not What I Expected’
Before I moved abroad, I thought it would induce some kind of epiphany. Like a lightbulb would go off above my head and I’d think, “That’s it! I want to go back and spend 40 hours a week in a windowless office and marry a boring straight man!” Then, I could just toddle back to the United States, settle down, and speak fondly about my time in Australia. End scene. Roll credits.
I can confidently say that I have had no such realization. If anything, I’m more lost than I was before I left. Now I’m just single, confused, and another year older. And I wouldn’t trade the year I’ve spent in Australia for anything.
The first piece of advice I’ll give to young people who want to move abroad is that it probably won’t go according to plan. If you’re lucky, there will be a million twists and turns, and you’ll end up somewhere you can’t even conceive of before leaving.
A year ago I was a recent college grad with a burning desire to see the world. I felt insatiable; it physically hurt my heart to stay at home when there was so much left to explore. I was also attached to nothing. I didn’t have an apartment, an in-person job, a dog, or any pressing responsibilities. The sense of floating from place to place freaks a lot of people out at my age – and for good reason. Living without attachments can be existential crisis-inducing, but it’s also freeing. I’m like a bird. I can fly wherever I want and build a new nest. How many times in your life do you get to do that?
I heard about Australia’s Working Holiday Visa from a friend who lived in Melbourne, Australia. This visa allows people from eligible countries to live and work anywhere in Australia for a year with the opportunity for an extension.
I didn’t know anyone in the country – let alone the continent or hemisphere – but the Australians I had met seemed friendly. So, I took the leap.
I was lucky enough to be working in freelance digital marketing, so my job enabled me to work anywhere. In hindsight, I’m not sure I would have chosen to move somewhere with a 19-hour time difference and a similar cost of living to the United States, but it is what it is.
I spent the first few months wandering the East Coast from Cairns to Byron Bay. I snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef, lounged on stunning beaches, and developed a healthy fear of sharks and spiders. But once autumn hit, the city girl in me got antsy. It was time to find somewhere with tall buildings and busy streets. Once again on a whim, I chose Melbourne.
Settling down was a new challenge.
I had studied abroad in Greece and Ireland during university, but truly living somewhere is very different. I no longer had the structure of an organized program, the community of fellow students, or the security of being on some sort of well-trodden path.
If you’re moving abroad on your own, be warned that friends are infinitely more valuable than romantic partners. Holiday romances will likely come and go, but your friends will be your tour guides, your brunch dates, and your support system. This is true most of the time, but it’s especially true if you’re a girl on your own in uncharted territory.
I put all thoughts of dating aside so I could reinvest my time into “friend dating.” Most people on working holiday make friends through in-person hospitality or retail jobs, but I was working remotely. I had to put myself out there more than most people. This meant reaching out to anyone my friends knew, saying ‘yes’ to every plan, and shamelessly asking people I liked to be my friends.
It was exhausting but worth it. Between a girl whom I had mutual friends with from home, some people I met on a Dutch party boat on the Yarra, and travelers whom I had met on other trips, I hit the friendship jackpot. I formed my little community of people who I truly enjoy, care for, and adore. My female friendships made it that much easier to be away from my friends, family, and everything I’ve ever known in LA.
Friendship and community formed my foundations, but living abroad still comes with its own unique, identity-based challenges.
One of the reasons I chose Melbourne was because of its queer-friendly and generally progressive attitudes. Sure, I’ve received an odd comment here and there. I’m sure that my accent also opens the door for people to say inappropriate things, but overall it’s as problematic as anywhere I’ve lived in the States.
The bigger identity crisis was that, after living in Los Angeles for most of my life, this was the first time that I didn’t have any Jewish friends. Holidays came and went and there was no one to celebrate with. I was the first Jewish person some people met, so I was left to field some uncomfortable questions and misperceptions. I also couldn’t find a decent bagel anywhere in the country.
Maybe there’s a lesson in there about appreciating the communities we do have when we have them, but maybe we just need to accept that it can be uncomfortable to be complex, three-dimensional people with layers of identity.
This discomfort is common when you choose to abandon the familiar in pursuit of the unknown because the truth is that moving abroad by yourself is really hard.
That’s kind of the point. I can’t have the benefits of self-discovery, growth, and strength without the moments that make me want to run and hide. The most difficult parts of this trip are the ones that lead to the most transformation.
Besides, I don’t want to look back and wish that I had taken more risks and bigger swings. I’m 24; this is the time to be confused and lost. This is the perfect age to deconstruct, introspect, and find out who I am under all the layers of who I’ve been taught to be.
Moving abroad is beautiful pictures of faraway lands on social media and nights spent crying without being able to call anyone from home. It is dancing under the stars with new friends and aching with sadness over missing important milestones with family and friends. It is all of these emotions at the same time.
Feeling weak doesn’t mean that I’m not strong. Feeling homesick doesn’t mean that I made the wrong choice. And choosing to believe that there is more to this life isn’t foolish – it’s brave.
Want to know more about living abroad and expat life? You can get inspired and learn more from firsthand experiences of LGBTQ+ Americans currently living in Mexico, Canada, Spain, and Portugal. Check out our list of tips to help plan your move abroad, too!
