I am a trailing spouse…

I follow my husband around the world. We’ve got kids in the mix now too, so I guess we are a trailing family. Like all strong, independent women who ‘follow’ their husband’s, the term ‘trailing spouse’ is one that I wholeheartedly reject. But I can understand why I am called that, because on the surface that’s what I do. I owe my transient, expat lifestyle to my husband and the company he works for.

But just because I follow him physically, should that automatically mean I follow him emotionally or psychologically? And this is why the term ‘trailing spouse’ is so reviled by most expat partners, because it implies a sort of submission, a pathetic relinquishing of power over ones own will or destiny.

We know the truth…

We ‘trailing spouses’ all know that when we decide to give up the familiarity of home, put our rewarding careers on hold, and move to a country where nothing is ‘normal’, where it is up to us to build a life out of nothing, that the very last thing we are doing is trailing.

Yet, for some reason, the label sticks. Like dog poo on the bottom of your shoe: you can’t believe you didn’t see it, you’re mad at yourself for not side-stepping over it, and no matter how hard you wipe your shoe on the grass or clean it with a stick, the faint smell stubbornly lingers.

I suppose we should be grateful that the term ‘expat wife’ seems to have fallen out of favour. With more and more families being propelled around the world by the woman’s career, the need arose for a more a gender-neutral label. Thing is, if I’m going to be falsely categorized and forced to live branded by a ridiculous label that has no relation to my reality what-so-ever, I vote for ‘expat wife’, although the connotations of both are honestly ridiculous. But, I’d rather be thought of as an ‘expat wife’: a privileged, well-travelled, well-dressed, gin-swilling socialite than a ‘trailing spouse’: a dependent, dislocated, self-conscious unemployed woman who exists solely to support her husband in his glorious international career.

The truth is…

We know that we are none of those things, and that sometimes we are all of those things. But to think that we are only those things is a grave mistake.

Yet our economically driven society demands that our worth, our esteem, our very value as people must be measured in terms of income and job status. A woman who chooses to accompany her spouse on an international assignment, who gives up her career goals (or at the very least puts them on hold), who chooses to stay at home with the kids, and who creates a new and secure life out of nothing, is somehow judged by society as being not quite as valued or respected as a woman who is winning in the corporate world. I know because I feel it. I feel it within myself, and I feel it each time I’m referred to as a ‘trailing spouse’ or ‘expat wife’ or even the indulgent and mildly patronizing ‘trailblazing spouse’. I wrote about my personal feelings about being an expat wife in an article titled The Expat Wife Conundrum.

I am a product of our competitive capitalist society, and so my ‘abnormal’ career choices that have been made out of necessity, freak me out too! I’m not at peace with my situation, my lack of career, and no matter how many times I tell myself that it’s life experience that counts, part of me still feels like a failure. And that makes me mad. Mad at society for imposing it’s ridiculous assumptions onto me, and mad at myself for subscribing to those ridiculous assumptions in the first place.

And this is where we, as women who accompany our partners around the world, go wrong. We allow ourselves to be categorized. We allow our self-esteem to be chiseled away, we allow ourselves to be cast in the role of follower, and so we stop being a leader. And we allow this stripping down to happen to us because are taught that our identities lie in what we do, not in who we are.

As expats, our world becomes wider. Our friends are culturally, linguistically and geographically diverse. The women we meet are mothers, lawyers, psychologists, academics, accountants, humanitarians, Oxford graduates, creatives, writers, designers and polyglots. They are giants in spirit and pillars of strength, magnificent in their vulnerability, inspiring in their determination, and they shatter each and every ignorant, insulting and misinformed label that attempts to categorize them.

I’m done fighting

 

And yet, the labels persist. I, for one, am tired of fighting them, I think we all are. We know that our family’s happiness depends on us. We know that when our husband’s go off to work that it is up to us to figure out how to live, settle the kids, create some degree of normalcy and comfort. We bear the burden of firsts and we negotiate our way through new surroundings, new languages and new cultures.

So if you want to categorize us, go ahead. We are privileged. We do love to travel. Sometimes we drink gin. We are dependent. We do feel dislocated. Our self-esteem does get knocked. But we are also well educated, independent minded and ambitious. We are raising multi-lingual third culture kids who respect and love diversity. We build our lives out of nothing so that when it’s time to move on we have something to leave behind. We are vulnerable yet strong. We are unsure yet bold. We are adventurous and confident, yet sometimes just the thought of going to the supermarket terrifies us. We carve out our lives amidst foreign languages, in spite of culture shock, and despite horrendous traffic jams. We appear to follow but actually lead.

And there’s no label for all that.

 

How do you feel about being a ‘trailing spouse’?

 

Picture credit goes to the fabulously talented Estie Thirion Photography

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