A lot of people are talking about leaving the United States lately — some jokingly, some more seriously. Driven by love of the country and a desire for adventure, my family acquired long-stay visas and moved to France in December 2023. Less than a year later, just weeks before the election, we moved back. No one was more surprised than I was.
We’d been talking about the move for years, and with some recent career shifts and our son still fairly young, the timing finally felt right for a big life change. It was important to us that our move not be driven by fear or frustration — but it was impossible not to reflect on the ways that France felt superior to the U.S. Comparing the two countries’ approaches to health care, women’s rights, education, social support systems, and work-life balance, we felt certain that the move would improve our lives.
We chose Bordeaux as our home base, having fallen in love with the city on previous visits to France. As we settled into our new life, we were happy to find that it did not disappoint. We reveled in the quality of food at the markets, the bakeries and restaurants, and we became accustomed to fresh daily pastries and incredible wine.
Our son attended an affordable private school where he was provided with a French tutor and nutritious, multi-course lunches. We fell in love with the pedestrian- and bike-friendly design of the city, and its efficient public transportation. Doctor’s visits rarely cost more than 25€ (a little over $26), and an ER trip was completely free, thanks to the country’s universal, government-regulated health care system. On the weekends, we hopped on trains and explored France, drove across the border to Spain, and took advantage of cheap flights to Venice, Lisbon and London.
Life in France was everything we’d dreamed of and more. I enthusiastically shared our experiences on my blog and social media, praising French fashion, food and culture, and comparing the education systems in France and the U.S. Several posts racked up millions of views, and my Instagram account grew from a few hundred followers to 16,000. My DMs started filling with people who were fed up with American life and craving a change.
At a quick glance, our experience looked dreamy. But behind the scenes, the cracks started showing within weeks of our move. As the Christmas lights came down around the city and the endlessly gray winter days took hold, it became easier to see what was missing beneath the sparkling excitement of our early days in France.
I loved our centuries-old third floor apartment in Bordeaux, but I missed our Richmond rowhouse with its deep front porch and the neighbors who would gather there. I was fascinated by the effortlessly cool, reserved nature of the French, but I found myself missing the open friendliness of Americans. I loved the baguettes and the wine and cuisine, but I missed tacos and bagels and Trader Joe’s. I appreciated the new relationships we were slowly building, but I missed our family and close friends most of all.
I was homesick, frustrated especially by the language barrier and how difficult it was for me to understand real spoken French, despite years of study. I hated not being able to speak with my son’s teachers, or other parents at his school, or servers at restaurants. I hated that even the most basic tasks felt difficult, like going to the doctor or picking up a package at the post office. No matter how much I tried to fit in, I felt like an outsider. My extroverted husband, on the other hand, was thriving in our new environment.
One thing we agreed on: We were both deeply disturbed by the news back home — mass shootings, the coming presidential election and the rising support for a candidate with 34 felony convictions. I wondered how we could justify returning to a place with so many serious problems.
At the same time, the reality that France wasn’t the perfect sanctuary we’d imagined started to sink in. Like so many countries around the world, France’s political climate is volatile, with the extreme right quickly gaining momentum. Immigration is a hot-button issue, and many French people view outsiders as unwelcome. Terrorism is a very real threat, a point driven home by machine gun-toting soldiers stationed outside of churches on Easter Sunday.
Life in France isn’t all about sipping wine on café terraces and other Instagram-worthy moments — just as life in America isn’t all about the person who lives in our White House. Real life is about what happens beyond the headlines and the highlight reels. And that’s important to recognize when you’re making a decision as significant as choosing a home for your family.
After nearly a year and countless conflicted conversations because my husband wanted to stay, we agreed to move home in time to celebrate the holidays with our loved ones. Ultimately, the desire to be closer to our community won out over the many benefits we enjoyed while living in France.
People often ask me if I wish we’d stayed in France, and despite everything going on, my response is immediate: I am happy to be home. I realized that leaving the country didn’t erase all of the fears and frustrations of this American life. In fact, they were almost harder to handle with such a deep disconnect between us and our people on the other side of the ocean. Now that we’re back, even as the news cycle has gotten more overwhelming, it’s tempered by the comfort and joy of being surrounded by our community.
That’s what I’m choosing to focus on now: our people, our home, and the small but meaningful things we can do to make it a better place.
Go Ad-Free — And Protect The Free Press
Already contributed? Log in to hide these messages.
Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at [email protected].