Quiz: Expat or immigrant?
- Kendall Jimenez
- Jun 23
- 8 min read
Updated: Jul 25
Find out your true identity as a Paris dweller
Contents
Do you know the difference?
We love tidy labels. They help us introduce ourselves at soirées and explain our lives to customs officers. But the words “expat” and “immigrant” aren’t as interchangeable as they seem—and the difference between them isn’t just about visas or how long you plan to stay.
Let's Dig In
Living abroad always makes you a bit of an outsider. But whether you’re called an expat or an immigrant often has more to do with perception than paperwork.
Expats are usually seen as people who move abroad temporarily—for work, love, or perhaps just for the adventure. Immigrants, on the other hand, are those expected to stay, to build their lives, their families, & their future ici.
But let’s be honest—it’s not really that simple.
Let’s Talk About the Uncomfortable Bit
Here’s the part most people politely skip over: the word expat tends to be reserved for people from wealthier, Western countries. The word immigrant? More often assigned to people from less privileged places.
The expatriate is usually thought of as someone chasing opportunity. The immigrant? Someone seeking stability or safety. One is adventurous; the other is assumed to be desperate. But are those assumptions fair? (Spoiler: pas du tout.)
So… Which Are You?
This isn’t a test. There are no points, no prize. But I do want to invite you to think—gently, curiously, maybe even playfully—about why you moved, how you see yourself, and how the world might see you.
And since France—like many countries—is actively discussing immigration these days, you’ll quickly find yourself right in the middle of that conversation, whether you expected to be or not. Your story becomes part of this broader community of migrating people.
In the next section, I’ll ask you a few questions. Keep track of your answers, and by the end, you might just have a better sense of the story you’re living—and the label that feels most honest to you... On y va?
Let’s Take the Quiz: Expat or Immigrant?
How Long Are You Staying?
Let’s start with duration and intent. Put simply: How long are you planning to stay?
Be honest—not what you told your maman, not what you scribbled on the visa forms. What’s in your heart?
If you packed your bags knowing you’d probably return home one day—whether that’s in six months, six years, or peut-être later—you’re leaning toward the expat camp. Expatriates often carry a soft timeline.
They build lives abroad, but there’s usually a quiet sentence trailing them: “Eventually, I might go back…” or “If things change, I can go home.”
On the other hand, if you moved because you want to stay—because this place feels like home, because you want to build your life, your family, and your future ici—you’re leaning toward immigrant territory.
Immigrants often pack for forever. They plant roots that grow deep.
And then, of course, there’s the deliciously complicated middle ground: what if you thought you’d stay temporarily, but somewhere along the way, Paris and France captured your heart? Or on the other hand, what if you once swore Paris was the place for you, but the reality outside a postcard has quietly shifted your intentions?
Take a moment. What’s your gut telling you?
Question:
How long are you staying?
Answer:
A) Temporarily / We'll see
B) This is it, this is my life now
Did You Choose to Move?
Let’s ask a trickier question: Did you move abroad because you wanted to, or because you had to?
When we talk about volition versus necessity, we’re really talking about agency. En gros, who gets to move, and who has to?
Expats: People who chose to move—often from a position of comfort. Maybe you accepted an exciting job, followed a romance, enrolled in a dream degree program, or simply fancied a prettier view with your morning café crème.
Expats are seen as people who can go abroad—their move framed as a door wide open. If you moved for career, lifestyle, or adventure, this is you.
Immigrants: Often described as people who must move. Maybe your home country didn’t offer enough jobs, or there were political and safety concerns nudging you toward something more stable.
Sometimes, the door out isn’t a glamorous opportunity—it’s more of an escape hatch. If you fled persecution or economic hardship, this is you.
Mais attends, here's where the line blurs: What if you moved because you wanted more freedom, more safety, more space to breathe—even though you technically could have stayed? As a queer, female American, I wasn’t in danger, but I’ve never felt safer or more at home than I do in Paris. Was that a choice, or something I deeply needed?
There’s no wrong answer, en fait, it might be a spectrum, but it’s worth pausing to consider.
Question:
Did you choose to move?
Answer:
A) I moved because I could
B) I moved because I had to
How Are You Seen?
Here’s a question about perception and privilege that might make you un peu uncomfortable: When people hear your story, what do they assume about you?
The label you wear abroad often depends not just on your passport, but on how the world sees you. If you’re from a Western, wealthier country, or you're white-presenting, you’re more likely to be called an expat. If you’re from the Global South, you’re more likely to be called an immigrant—even if you’re doing the exact same thing.
This isn’t exactly polite, but voilà: it's real. It’s stitched into headlines, whispered in conversations, baked into immigration policies. It’s not necessarily about where you’re from—it’s about how much privilege you carry with you when you arrive.
Take a moment to reflect: Have you been warmly welcomed as an international professional, or met with skepticism as someone who should “prove” their right to stay? Do people see you as adventurous, or assume you’re here for assistance? Are you treated like a novelty or a nuisance? Pas facile, I know. But it’s valuable to notice how these stories are told—about ourselves, and about others.
Question:
How are you seen?
Answer:
A) Perceived as Privileged
B) Perceived as an Outsider
Where Is Home?
Let’s finish with something softer: When you picture “home,” where is it?
Don’t be fooled—this one matters. En fait, identity and belonging can shape your life abroad just as much as your visa status.
Some people move abroad, but their hearts remain firmly elsewhere. Their “home” is still the country they left, the place where their roots feel deepest, where family is close and the cultural codes are effortless. These people often stay in tight-knit expat bubbles—perhaps by accident, perhaps by design. They bring their home with them, like a well-loved coat they refuse to take off.
Others find their sense of home shifting. Maybe you start dreaming in another language. Maybe you celebrate local holidays, build deep friendships with locals, and find that the idea of “home” now includes the cobblestones beneath your feet. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten where you came from—it just means you’ve let yourself belong where you are.
And then there’s the in-between: the people who live suspended between two places, who are neither here nor there, but somehow both. Isn’t that, in many ways, the most human experience of all?
But if push came to shove, what's in your heart?
Question:
Where is “home”?
Answer:
A) Home is still where I came from
B) Home is here (or both)
So... Expat or Immigrant?
What do your answers say? Did your A’s outnumber your B’s? Did you land squarely in one camp, or are you floating quelque part entre les deux?
MOSTLY A: Expat-Leaning
If you leaned toward A, you’re probably moving through the world as an expatriate.
Maybe you arrived with a return ticket, or maybe you still feel attaché to another place—one foot abroad and one foot planted in their origin story. You might be seen as someone who’s here for now, and that’s perfectly fine.
MOSTLY B: Immigrant-Leaning
If your answers landed mostly in B, you may be closer to the identity of an immigrant.
Perhaps you came with long-term intentions to build a life here. Perhaps you face more barriers to acceptance, and less of the automatic grace afforded to expats. But there’s beauty and boldness in this story, too: it's très courageux to commit completely to a new home.
A MIX OF BOTH
If you find yourself quelque part au milieu—wonderful. Many people live here, in this lovely, shifting in-between.
Whether you call yourself an expat, an immigrant, or simply someone who lives here right now—pause and ask: Why do I use this label? Who gave it to me? Does it fit? Because ultimately, the words we choose aren’t just about geography. They tell the story of who we are, and maybe, who we’re becoming.
Nuance & Real Talk
Let’s get honest: this isn’t really about labels. It’s about language, perception, and privilege—how we talk about people, how we see them, and en fait, how we see ourselves.
These tidy assumptions about expats and immigrants oversimplify people's lives. Plenty of people who call themselves expats stay for decades, raise families, buy homes, and become part of the local fabric. And many who arrive with immigrant dreams will leave—by choice or by circumstance. Intentions shift. Plans change. People stay longer than they meant to. People leave sooner than they hoped. And as we've established, your longevity abroad is only one factor in this terminology.
If it’s not really about visa stamps... what is it about?
It’s about who gets to call themselves an expat and who is labelled an immigrant, and the stigma that comes from that. It’s about which stories we romanticize and which we complicate. And sometimes—without realizing it—it’s about who we feel belongs.
I’m not here to tell you what to call yourself. Pas du tout. What I really hope is that you’ll leave this conversation with a little more curiosity—about your story and the stories unfolding around you. Ask yourself: What words am I using? Where did I learn them? Who do they welcome—and who do they leave out?
Sometimes the most interesting part isn’t the answer—it’s the thinking.
Follow Your Heart on the Conversation
When you chose to move—or when life chose for you—what were you searching for? A temporary adventure? A permanent home? A fresh start? Maybe you aren’t entirely sure yet. Et peut-être, that’s the most honest answer of all.
The words we use to describe ourselves abroad can carry enormous weight. They can open doors or quietly close them. They can reflect how we see ourselves, but they can also shape how others see us—sometimes in ways we don’t intend.
But the beautiful thing is, we get to ask these questions. We get to look at our stories with fresh eyes. We get to think about how we show up in the world and how we hold space for the stories of others.
This isn’t really about whether you pass as an expat or belong as an immigrant; the most interesting label is the one you give yourself—not the one someone else would have chosen for you. It’s about how you move through the world—with curiosity, with empathy, with a little more awareness of the language you’ve inherited and the stories you carry.
If you’re curious to explore more—like the history of expats in Paris, or the modern immigrant experience—restez avec nous. More to come soon.
And if you're at a crossroads in your own journey, we're here for that too, with tools in our SHOP, and services you can BOOK.
We're so glad you're here, and we hope you’ll stay.
Featured image credit goes to my very dear and very talented friend, photographer Harry Garlick,
with HG Shoots, © 2023
