Illustration: Doug Chayka
In September 2022, Heather and her husband were visiting friends in Portugal when Hurricane Ian began to close in on their hometown of St. Petersburg, Florida. Though the storm ended up making landfall farther south, the close call was a tipping point. Governor Ron DeSantis’s failure to prioritize them had been laid bare — he hadn’t sufficiently addressed the home-insurance crisis, which had been exacerbated by frequent natural disasters. It was the last in a long list of grievances they had against the governor, who had recently made it harder to get an abortion and easier to carry a concealed gun in the state. The couple began to contemplate leaving for good — not merely the state but the country, which they saw going in the same direction. They were able to acquire Portuguese “digital nomad” visas, with a path to citizenship through her husband’s heritage and, 18 months later, relocated to a calm coastal town outside Lisbon.
Despite the chorus of Americans who threaten to move abroad should their preferred candidate lose the election, few actually do it. The exodus rhetoric seemed to peak during Donald Trump’s first presidential run. In 2017, the year of Trump’s inauguration, U.S. applications for permanent residency in Canada increased by a lowly 1,300 people. Still, it’s hard to ignore the industry of immigration coaches and consultants that has emerged over the past few years, serving those who fantasize — even temporarily — about expatriating for reasons political or otherwise.
Many of these consultants, like Elizabeth Silleck La Rue, are self-employed people who figured out ways to move abroad (temporary visas, for instance) and now have a side hustle teaching others how to follow their lead. Silleck La Rue, who left Florida for the Mexican island of Cozumel in 2022, specializes in assisting clients from marginalized communities, including those concerned about antisemitism and anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments. Another immigration consultancy, Expatsi, was founded by Jen Barnett and her husband, Brett, two self-described “exvangelicals” who left Alabama for Merida, Mexico, over increasing concerns about the rise of Christian nationalism. Launched in June 2022, the business offers reconnaissance-style trips to European destinations where aspiring expats can try out the lifestyle abroad while connecting with lawyers and real-estate experts. “We built the site, and literally three days after we started promoting it, Roe v. Wade was overturned and it started to move,” says Barnett. Interest rose so sharply that the couple were able to invest money in better software and quit their day jobs to focus on building Expatsi full time.
One of the first things they created was an intake survey; the idea was to help users figure out which countries might suit them best. The answers have been revealing, says Barnett. When asked about their primary reasons for wanting to leave the U.S., Barnett says the majority tend to answer “For adventure and personal growth.” But the second-biggest reason is consistently “The U.S. is too divided.” In the month following the June 27 presidential debate between Joe Biden and Donald Trump, more than 22,000 Americans completed the Expatsi test — a huge increase from the same period during the previous year, when there were just 2,280 submissions. And over half of those people checked “The U.S. is too divided” as their reason for wanting to leave.
Marco Permunian, an immigration lawyer who helps U.S. citizens acquire Italian citizenship and property, has also seen a bump in inquiries from clients across the political spectrum this summer. His firm has received 1,200 calls per month for the past several months — 150 percent more than during the same period last year. For some, a second passport seems to be an insurance policy, he says — a backup plan in case things take a turn for the worse. But other Americans are trying to leave as soon as they can. Permunian recently assisted a retired couple from North Carolina who wanted to fast-track their Italian-citizenship application. “Regardless of who becomes president, their intention is to leave the U.S. Their reasons are the cost of living and political extremism on both sides,” he said.
I talked to several people who are eager to get out because they no longer feel safe where they live or because they no longer feel able to survive financially in a country where the cost of living is increasingly on the rise. Stephanie Stone-Robb, a Texas real-estate agent, says her husband is a drag performer; over the past year, she’s felt frightened for him every time he leaves for a performance. Stone-Robb recently took a 23-day Expatsi trip to Spain and Portugal; the other 20 people on the trip told her about wanting to leave because of gun violence, health-care expenses, and the general cost of living. The relative affordability of life abroad is partly why Robin Divine, a mutual-aid organizer and writer living in Columbus, Ohio, is thinking of leaving. She says she doesn’t support either political party; regardless of who is in the White House, her situation never seems to measurably improve. “I went to school, I got the corporate job, I worked hard, and it just never panned out; I’ve been homeless four times,” she says. Divine hopes to move somewhere like Santiago de Querétaro, Mexico, where she believes she can rent a one-bedroom for a third of the price she currently pays.
Americans are unusually and exceptionally unhappy with the country right now. According to Gallup’s polling, the number of people who report feeling satisfied with the way things are going in the U.S. has hovered steadily between 18 and 25 percent over the past year. (That number peaked around 70 percent in the early aughts.) But is leaving really the solution? Europe is contending with its own affordable-housing crisis and the rise of right-wing populist parties like Fratelli d’Italia in Italy and Chega in Portugal. Mexico faces violence and corruption. But for those disillusioned with the U.S., a fresh start anyplace else may feel preferable to the devil they know.
When Heather got to Portugal, she started a TikTok account called Mindful Migrant and quickly amassed 27,000 followers by dispensing immigration advice and glimpses of her new life abroad. In one post, which has since been viewed by nearly half a million people, she runs through all of the ways her new home is preferable to the U.S. — safer, less expensive, with a better social safety net. While Heather admitted there were trade-offs — the Portuguese bureaucracy can feel archaic, and being away from her two college-age kids is difficult — she said she never doubts her decision. “No place is a utopia. I’m not naïve. But Portugal has afforded me a lightness, a freedom that has literally lowered my heart rate and improved my physical health and mental health,” she says. “I can’t explain it. I just take deeper breaths here.”
Others, however, find it difficult to let go. Jennifer Bradtke, an American clinical psychologist, moved to Scotland a few years ago and works mostly with other expats. Despite the fact that they’ve moved thousands of miles in some cases, they tend to have trouble detaching from the stressors of American life and politics. “It hasn’t gone away for the vast majority of them,” she says. “In fact, it comes up regularly in sessions.” She’s noticed this in her own life, too. “I was hiking a couple weeks ago and paused to enjoy the view when two people walked past in conversation about what happened that week with the campaign.”
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