“I do wonder how safe this is for me. I mean, sharing these things.”
The room felt small as he said this. His eyes darted to the window, then back to the floor. There was a tension in his voice, a hesitation that told me he had measured every word before letting it out, a lifetime of caution pressed into that single sentence. I sat across from him with my notebook, feeling the weight of his uncertainty.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “We can stop at any time if you’re uncomfortable. Whatever you say here is completely confidential.”
He nodded but didn’t meet my eyes. “It’s just… you don’t grow up in Nigeria talking about these things. Not if you want to stay safe,” he said.
This was the beginning of his story. It is the story of someone who had lived his life as if constantly walking a tightrope, where every misstep could cause his whole world to crumble. He had always considered his identity to be perilous and something to hide because he was raised in Nigeria. In that country, society and the law worked together to suppress anything that went against the grain.
We may be observers, but we are not unaffected. Our futures are tied to decisions being made in rooms where we have no voice.
As the U.S. election arrives, there is a growing sense of uncertainty in the air, felt even by those of us who cannot cast a vote. For international students like me, the anticipation carries a weight far heavier than typical political discussions. We may be observers, but we are not unaffected. Our futures are tied to decisions being made in rooms where we have no voice.
Those who identify as LGBTQ+ or non-binary feel the stakes most acutely. The debate surrounding immigration, transgender rights, access to gender-affirming healthcare, and protections against discrimination is deeply personal. These policies affect not just our legal status, but also our everyday safety and well-being. The election results will directly impact our ability to stay, thrive, and access the resources we need in the U.S. Thus, as candidates debate these issues, it is impossible not to feel that our lives and identities are being scrutinised.
Freedom is not Entirely Free
The promise of freedom is often deceiving. This is something I came to understand in more depth when I listened to him speak. When we cross borders, we carry this expectation that the lives we once departed will give way to a new life. However, the truth is far more complicated for people like us. Freedom, as we discover, is not guaranteed for international students. Freedom is intertwined with policies that determine who should belong and who should not, who is seen and who remains invisible. This is what we navigate as international students in the U.S. Freedom is not a gift. It is a negotiation between what we aspire to be and what the world will allow us to be.
In Nigeria and Ghana, policies related to gender identity are blunt instruments of control. The anti-LGBTQ+ laws in both countries criminalise same-sex relationships. Therefore, in these countries, there is no room for gender fluidity or non-binary identities. In these spaces, conformity is a matter of survival and not authentic living. For someone like him, revealing even the smallest glimpse of his true self could have a devastating cost, one far beyond what he is prepared to pay. He had seen people in his community punished for deviating from gender norms and was not ready to bear such a cross.
Coming to the United States evokes both hope and anxiety. While the promise of freedom draws many of us, we also have this sense of fear in the back of our heads. However, the hope of being accepted in a nation that proclaims its assurance of freedom supersedes the fear we harbour. Nevertheless, in reality, the policies in this country are multi-layered. Debates surrounding immigration, trans rights, affirming health care, and anti-discrimination measures are heated. The results of the November 5th election may determine our futures, especially for those of us who have sought asylum, hoping for safety in this country. For international students like him and myself, the U.S. election feels personal, even though we cannot vote. The stakes, which include access to healthcare, protection from discrimination, and the ability to remain in the country, are very high. We live in the shadow of laws and policies that determine whether we will be able to live authentically or whether we will be forced back into the margins.
Searching for Belonging Amid Uncertainty
As international students, we stand in a strange, liminal space. We are caught between the worlds we left behind and that which we are trying to navigate. We are spectators in a political circus that decides our future. Meanwhile, we are politically voiceless. We are obliged to observe, our futures left at the mercy of the very politicians whose decisions we hardly have the chance to challenge.
To him, this sense of disruption has become heightened. This is due to the conflicting burden of simultaneously carrying Nigeria’s cultural expectations and the political uncertainty in the U.S. The Nigerian laws that suppressed his identity still haunt him. Their shadow is accompanied by whispers of shame and rejection that linger even here in the U.S., where most of us believe that freedom is possible. And yet, while U.S. policies appear to be more accepting, the reality is a tangled one. Even among classmates who are open-minded, the anxiety of their judgment never goes away. Even if policies change, the struggle for acceptance will continue.
To many of us, hanging in the balance of this upcoming election is not only policy, but also our existence. Will this country allow us to be ourselves or force us back into some semblance of hiding? While we go about our studies, building friendships and our lives, we are also very much aware that the outcome of one election could upend it all. The issues at stake here are more than just past immigration status or healthcare access. For us, this is about safety, being valued, and being seen.
I know what it is like to be between two worlds, feeling fully at home in neither one nor the other.
Freedom and identity are not fixed. Rather, they constantly shift and evolve based on the situation. As a cisgender person, I have not experienced the kind of struggles that accompany the question of gender identity. Even so, I know what it is like to be between two worlds, feeling fully at home in neither one nor the other. This tension resulting from constant negotiation resonates with most international students with an identity that cuts across the broader societal norm.
He put it best: “Living authentically is something I have to work for every day.” It is not a state you achieve and hold onto forever. This form of authenticity is very fragile, easily threatened by shifts in policy, political rhetoric, and social attitudes. As international students, we learn to navigate these changes, adapting our expectations and behaviours in ways that permit us to survive. Yet to survive is not to dwell. This is the dichotomy that many of us face as the election approaches.
The U.S. election represents not simply a political event. For those of us who exist at the margins, it is also a mirror reflecting the complexities of identity and belonging. Will we find acceptance or will the rules shift once again, forcing us to navigate a whole new set of expectations? Will this country finally welcome us into its arms or will we drift forever, caught between borders, policies, and the many versions of ourselves? These questions weigh heavily on us, shaping our sense of security in a place that is supposed to offer refuge. These are not questions we only ask ourselves. Rather, we bring them into every classroom, every public space, and every interaction where our identities come into play.
While they may seldom provide easy answers, these questions nevertheless demand attention. Our stories—his, mine, and those of other international students—unfold at the intertwining points of identity, policy, and politics. They are part of a larger narrative concerning belonging in a conformist world that promises freedom. The ballots that will be cast during this election will determine not only the course of the United States but also that of people like us who have sought a place of belonging.
Featured image by kp yamu Jayanath (courtesy of Pixabay)
