Maybe I am late to the party, but I came across it only recently.
A WhatsApp group I am on has a number of highly educated women, who often post requests for job opportunities on the group after having moved as a “trailing spouse”.
Essentially, this means that their husband got a great job somewhere and they are now giving up their jobs, their lives, their roots - to go and settle in a foreign location. Usually, this location tends to be literally ‘foreign’, in which case visa laws govern a large part of whether the trailing spouses can even work at all.
Let’s call it what it is: A trailing spouse is a trailing wife. At least 99% of the time.
No shade on the women making these sacrifices - and often voluntary choices - for their families. No shade, also, on the men who are moving to greener pastures to provide better lives for their families.
But don’t let the sexy accents and glamorous long overcoats fool you - the life of a trailing wife is no bed of roses.
“The Amreeka vala rishtaa”
Ananya says that she keeps talking to family, friends, and anyone else who would listen to be skeptical of the ‘Amreeka vala rishtaa’ (the marriage proposal from America).
“For those married to these coveted grooms, life in America is almost a photonegative of expectations. To most Indians, America is equal to dreams of living empowering, independent, fabulous lives in the land of opportunity. Reality - at least for women - is far from it.
Women who had thriving careers in India - with financial independence and the support of domestic help - become unemployed, lose authority, independence, and their voice when they move to America with their NRI husbands.”
Ananya’s cousin, Nirav, worked in the US on an H-1B visa. Seven years after he moved there, Nirav married Riya, who moved from India to be with him post-marriage. She had been living there for two years when Ananya first met the couple.
“Riya used to be an interior designer in Mumbai and had a career she greatly enjoyed. But in the US, she was not eligible for work authorization. Nirav drove to work in the only car they had - an Audi - which he was hesitant to let her drive. Because, you know, ‘You are so new here!’
All of Riya’s time is now spent cooking, cleaning, browsing the web, walking, and online shopping.
Despite it being a very loving marriage, I saw that the dynamic in their relationship was very skewed. Nirav had lived in the US for nearly a decade at this point and knew everything about the systems in place. Riya, on the other hand, was a relative newbie and hamstrung by a lack of interaction, exposure, and transport.
The Amreeka wala rishta had cost her so much.”
“Everyone, except me.”
It doesn’t even have to be big sacrifices that can feel like a huge price to pay. Sometimes losing even basic rights and everyday freedoms can feel like death by a thousand paper cuts.
Namita and Rahul moved from Bangalore to Amsterdam in the middle of the Covid lockdown.
“Nothing was easily available. We were in a new country with two kids and trying to navigate life in a new culture with a new language. Everything was expensive. With one income, we had to really plan our expenses.”
The first item on the couple’s agenda was to get a local sim card.
“Rahul somehow thought it was okay to get only one sim card between us. This meant that he had a local number with data, and could access apps conveniently. For example, if we got lost (which happened a lot in the initial days!), he could use Google maps to find his way back.
I lost the freedom to lose my way. This meant that if I stepped outside, my mobility was limited to just going to the local grocery store. I could literally not step outside the one route to the one place I knew.”
Namita recalls the time when the loss of this simple freedom led her to a breakdown.
“I remember the four of us were out on a walk one day. My husband and kids were walking ahead. They took a turn that I did not see. Soon, I found that I was all alone on the street, trying to figure my way back to them. It sounds like a small thing now, but I cannot express how pissed off I was in that moment.
After a lot of panicking and searching, when I finally found them, I just sat down on the pavement and broke down, crying.
It had only been two weeks since we moved, but I told Rahul that I felt like I have no identity left whatsoever.
I lost a part of myself when I left my job and stopped earning money after having kids. And it felt like I had lost even more now. I had no bank account, no local community, not even a local phone number.”
The very next day, Rahul got Namita a sim card and went to the bank to open her account.
“He understood what I meant but it took a breakdown in the middle of an unknown street to make him see all this.
That was two years ago. We are better settled here now. I have friends and I am working to start my own company in Amsterdam. But I remember how I spent the complete first year here, making sure that everyone in the family was settled. Everyone, except me.”
The American Dream
Ayesha came to the US to pursue a Masters in Molecular and Cell Biology.
“Unlike the tech sector, it is an uphill battle for immigrants to land jobs in the life sciences. After a long, painful fight, I had to settle for working on contract because major medical device companies did not want to go through the hassle of visa sponsorship.
I shed more tears than I care to remember, moving numerous times across the US, trying to push my career forward. In short, my career had been hard-won.”
Around this time, Ayesha married Tanmay, who was pursuing his Ph.D. at the time.
“Two years later, Tanmay got an offer for a post-doc from a very prestigious research institute, run by the US Federal government. Meanwhile, my existing work authorization expired. I had not been picked for an H-1B visa (which is the next step in the process). It was over. I had to stop working if we were to stay in the US. I thought about leaving.
But since truly great opportunity was on hand for Tanmay - which might even have led to an expedited Permanent Residence - we decided to stay for his career.
With a very heavy heart, I accepted that I would have to temporarily bow out of working to make this work. I set myself a deadline, and decided that I would stay unemployed for no longer than two years. That was in 2018.”
When they informed the immediate and extended family of their decision, Ayesha was disappointed at how little was thought about the loss of her career.
“With barely an ‘Oh!’ to acknowledge the loss, people moved right on to, ‘This might actually be great. You can take this time to have kids!’”
In 2019, Ayesha’s parents visited them. With no domestic help, she found she was spending most of her time in the kitchen.
“I remember, one day, as I was doing the dishes, my Dad and I were discussing the places in the US that were viable destinations for my husband and me to live. Given that we both worked in entirely unrelated fields, our opportunities tended to coincide in very few spots in the country.
Suddenly, my dad said, ‘Wherever you decide to eventually settle, the opportunities for Tanmay should be excellent. He should be happy in his career. Only then life will be good.’
That stung.
It was bad enough that I - a person raised by a working mother, who had never even imagined not working - was now stuck at home. But to have my own father tell me so baldly that my husband’s career should take precedence over anything I desired?
I looked up, arms covered in soap suds, and asked, ‘And I should just do dishes for the rest of my life? Why did I even bother with an MS?’
He didn’t say a word.”
Many years passed, and things did not change. Ayesha and Tanmay recently moved out of the US.
“It finally became clear that my long-term unemployment would be the price I would have to pay for the American Dream.
Nope. Not worth it.”
“Wives were supposed to be grateful for having been ‘given’ this American life.”
Priya and Karthik met at an arranged marriage setup. Karthik was in the US on an H-1B visa at the time, and their union was finalized within an afternoon by both families. They were married in 2004.
Priya’s sister-in-law, Soumya, says of their marriage:
“Priya had a promising career in India. After the wedding, she moved to the US as Karthik’s dependent. That meant curtains on her career. She was forbidden by law - not only from having a career - but from having any sort of income, anywhere in the world. So Indian culture and US immigration collaborated nicely to tie her to her divinely ordained role as homemaker and mother.”
By the time Priya moved to the US, Karthik had already studied, lived, and worked there for 6 years.
“He was well-versed with life in America. He was knowledgeable, authoritative, and knew how stuff worked there. She was new, unsure, and had not found her feet yet. Within a few years, they had two kids, and the domestic became her universe.
Five years after moving, they finally got Green Cards. Priya could legally start working. But by then, she had been out of the workforce for so many years that she would basically have to start from the bottom again. Meanwhile, Karthik - to use his new freedom as a Permanent Resident - took up a full-time Ph.D., with his already full-time job. Far from making room for her to explore a career, he now had even lesser time for the family and household than before.”
According to Soumya - who has lived in the US for several years herself - Priya and Karthik’s life is following a familiar pattern.
“Time and again, I find that once women begin their married life in the US as a dependent, unable to work, this dynamic ossifies over time. With kids, it eventually happens that the most they can aspire to is to have a job, not a career.
Some of this has changed, because now dependent spouses are eligible for a work permit under certain specific conditions, though it is still far from smooth sailing. I have silently celebrated as some women rebelled against this and insisted on getting out from this stifling situation by getting an education in the US and finding jobs and building careers after their weddings to their celebrated NRI grooms. But that takes a certain sort of person and to be fair a certain era.
When Priya came to the US, this was not the norm. Dependent wives stayed home, cooked for their husbands, kept the home, had kids, and were supposed to be grateful for having been “given” this American life.
Even after she was legally permitted to work, Priya was restricted from working a job too far from home, because kids. The expectation was clear. She had taken care of the kids all this while, so obviously, this was her sole responsibility in life forever now.
US immigration compounds the hugely negative aspect of Indian culture that already devalues women and their contributions. With the choice to work taken out of the equation, at least for a while, the path is clear for traditional gender roles to become the foundation for marriage in those early years.”
“I get this feeling of being worthless”
Sonia is an artist and art educator. After a successful and happy move from India to the Maldives in 2010 with her husband and four-year-old daughter, she moved to Brunei in 2012.
“My daughter was now growing up and did not need me as much anymore. This is when the feeling of being lost hit me hard. I could not apply for jobs as there weren't any opportunities in Brunei. I could not find any friends or neighbors to talk to where we lived. Frustration and a feeling of depression started creeping in. This also affected the atmosphere of my home as I would lose my temper often.”
A year later, Sonia joined an art gallery and began voluntary work as an instructor.
“Having a job helped me feel a bit better. But somehow the people, the language, and the unfamiliar culture left me feeling a bit alienated. I worked for six years and then began working from home as an art instructor for expatriate ladies and older kids. It helped me discover the entrepreneur in me - a side that even I was unaware of. And I finally felt good about myself.”
In 2021, Sonia had to move once again - this time to the UK - where her husband found a new job.
“It has been a year now. I am struggling to adjust in yet another completely new country. I am unable to revive my work as an art instructor - partly because I am new and an unknown artist here, and partly because the community I found here is not as inclined towards the arts.
So now, my work and that little source of financial independence I had, has once again come to a complete standstill. It is not an easy feeling to deal with.”
Sonia says that this last move has been the most difficult.
“There is no house help in the UK so my household commitments do not leave me with enough time to engage in full-time work. As I age, I also find my motivation waning.
In this last move, I left quite a settled life behind. Even though I have found a few Indian friends here, I still don’t feel ‘at home’. It mentally affects a person a lot.
My daughter is busy with her higher studies. Husband is busy with his job. I find myself feeling lost at home. I am trying to be hopeful but it is a difficult phase. Having left behind a teaching career twice now - in India and Brunei - and not having any work at hand now, I get this feeling of being worthless at times.”
A Golden Cage
Trailing spouses of H1-B visa holders are given the H4 ‘dependent’ visa in the US.
“…ironically, while the H1B visa has become a matter of “national interest” capturing diplomatic attention and academic interest, little is known about the dependents (on H4 visa) who accompany the H1B visa holders each year. This, despite the fact that Indians form the highest proportion of H4 visa holders.
The popular narratives of American immigration have always overlooked this category of immigrants (H4 visa holders) —their personal experiences and socialisation processes, their sense of isolation and dependence, and professional setbacks that have pushed women several steps behind.”
“…researchers have observed that in households where both spouses are educated and working, immigration causes disruption as it compels one of the spouses to compromise or give up on their work. And in most cases, that happens to be a female worker (Iredale 2005).”
She adds:
“…the H1B visa is a coveted piece of document - a means to achieving greater pay packages, better quality of life, attainment of green card and eventually citizenship in the US (Sahoo Sangha and Kelly 2010), whereas the H4 visa represents an immigration situation that is restricting and limiting.
The H4 visa does not allow dependents (except a small section with employment authorization) to seek employment or earn a wage during their stay in the US. It is not surprising that researchers have labelled it a ‘‘depression visa’’ (Chakravorty Kapurand Singh 2016) and a ‘‘golden cage’’ (Bragun 2007).”
The challenges faced by these trailing wives are not limited merely to their employment opportunities, but have reverberating effects on their personal life as well.
“H4 visa creates several barriers for dependents, as their legal and financial status is dependent on their husband’s visa status. This raises profoundly complex predicaments for women in their daily lives (Kelkar 2011). Some researchers and activists have also pointed out that within the Asian community a large number of victims of domestic violence do not report their situation fearing deportation, in case the primary visa holder chooses to terminate their marriage (Abraham 2005; Chang 2014; Raj and Silverman 2016).”
At the cost of repetition, I want to reiterate that this piece is not intended to criticize men who choose to take up jobs abroad, or women who choose to accompany them, or women who choose to give up their careers for their family.
All choices are valid. But ‘choice’ is the operative word here.
If thousands of women every year are being forced to give up their work, their basic freedoms, and their entire sense of identity in order to move to a pasture that is greener for their husbands and kids, we need to rethink our definition of ‘greener pastures’.
Some footnotes
I decided to write this piece when ‘Ayesha’ wrote to me about this unseen aspect of ‘Womaning in India, outside India’ (her beautiful words, not mine) and sent me the true story of how her ‘American dream’ had turned out to be a nightmare.
My thanks and hugs to her, and a gentle reminder to all readers to please keep sharing aspects of Womaning they think I haven’t written about yet.
Also, if there are any trailing wives reading this piece who are struggling to find a flexible role in an unfamiliar land, do listen to my podcast with the founding team of Flexibees where we discuss exactly this. Maybe it will help.
🔥 If you are an aspiring writer - or even someone who just wants to make their emails shine - check out my storytelling course, which includes writing workshops and one-on-one mentoring to help you write better, write consistently, and launch your own newsletter.
Wonderful piece. Indeed, the plight of trailing wives is completely ignored more often than not. I wrote a short story on this last year. Do read when you have time.
Thank you for this piece, Mahima. I lived in the US for close to 9 years. My husband moved from Amsterdam to the US so we could live together and get married. His struggles with H4, later H4-EAD (work authorization for spouses), made us finally decide to move to Canada. Now we both can do whatever the hell we want and don’t have to worry about making a trip to the US embassy every time we visit India. I have a lot of sympathy for women who lose their identities so their spouses can live their American dream.
Wonderful piece. Indeed, the plight of trailing wives is completely ignored more often than not. I wrote a short story on this last year. Do read when you have time.
https://thebombayreview.com/2021/05/19/h4-fiction-by-vineet-deshpande-creative-writing-workshop/
Thank you for this piece, Mahima. I lived in the US for close to 9 years. My husband moved from Amsterdam to the US so we could live together and get married. His struggles with H4, later H4-EAD (work authorization for spouses), made us finally decide to move to Canada. Now we both can do whatever the hell we want and don’t have to worry about making a trip to the US embassy every time we visit India. I have a lot of sympathy for women who lose their identities so their spouses can live their American dream.