On Being a Dual-Citizen

The United States is my “birth country”, and I am an American citizen. When I married a French husband back in the early 1970s, I also became French –”automatically”, as they said back then. (You now have to wait five years and apply). Although the Frenchman and I later divorced, I still remained French.

Being what you call a dual citizen, a citizen of two countries. I vote in both the U.S. and France; and I possess two passports. I also have a French identity card, which, by the way, is all I need to travel within the European Union, as well as certain other countries, such as Switzerland, Malta, Turkey, Slovenia, Cyprus, Iceland, etc. With my French passport I can even travel, legally and on my own, to Cuba!

I also pay income taxes in both countries, although, admittedly I pay very few in the U.S. because I have no assets in the country and only do the odd consulting job there.  Being a retired, tenured educator of the French Ministry of Education,  with 35 years of service, I receive a pension from the French government and have French medical coverage for life. I do not receive any American Social Security or Medicare benefits because I have lived all my adult life in France and haven’t accumulated enough quarters.

I feel lucky that the U.S. and France have agreements that allow dual citizenship; some countries do not. I also feel lucky that when I am in the U.S. I am considered an American and when in France, I am considered French, although, admittedly, “of American origin.” This means that I can live and work in either country and come and go as I please without worrying about visas, residency cards or work papers.

Sometimes I have heard people in both countries complain about dual-citizenship. In the U.S., they ask, “How can you be a good U.S.citizen if you live abroad?” In France, where the extreme right-wing proclaims “France for the French” and denounces immigration, certain people complain about the “foreign origins” of some of its electorate.

I do not agree with these complaints. Speaking about my own situation, I believe that having dual citizenship has made me a very conscientious and thoughtful citizen, both in my birth country and in my adopted country. Living outside the U.S. has given be a broad outlook on the political situation there and an appreciation of what I would like to defend or see changed. In addition, contrary to many home-based Americans, I never abstain from voting in presidential and legislative elections! As an American citizen, I feel it is my obligation to vote; I do this by registering in my last place of residence in the U.S. (California) and sending in an absentee ballot. Wishing to be kept up-to-date on my civic rights, I joined AARO ( Association of American Residents Overseas), a Paris-based association defending U.S. citizens living abroad. I also participate in the activities of Democrats Abroad (France).

I believe that because I live permanently in France and am a citizen of this country, I also have an obligation to vote in French elections. As I feel I am doing when I vote in the U.S., I want to exercise my democratic right to share in the decisions that are made and to express my opinion about what should be defended or changed. Living in the Paris area for the past 40 years, I am usually in town when the two rounds of elections occur; when I’m not, I either vote by correspondence or have somebody vote for me by proxy. I have always been impressed at how seriously French voters take the election process. Indeed, the abstention rate is much lower than in the U.S.; and, unlike American elections, which are held on a work day, French elections take place on Sundays so that a maximum number of people can vote. French election campaigns can be as tough or as tedious as in the U.S., but I have always found there is a certain degree of solemnity about the actual voting on election day. For example, it is usually very quiet at the voting place. Going to vote is in event,  and I’ve noticed that many French people actually get all dressed up in their “Sunday best” when they go to cast their ballot!

Although I am a dual-citizen and bilingual in English and French, while they were growing up, I made a big effort to transmit my American culture and “roots” to my three sons, who were born in France but raised bilingual and bi-cultural. As soon as they were born, I registered them right away as American citizens at the U.S. Consulate in Paris and obtained U.S. passports for them. I felt then, as I still do today, that having U.S. citizenship would attach them in many ways to the heritage of their American mother. Being a teacher and later a professor, I was lucky enough to have the summers off and was able to take them on trips to the U.S. to visit family and friends. With their own U.S. passports, I reckoned that should someday they want to live, study or work in the U.S., they could enter the country without any problems. (As it turned out, my youngest son lived with me in the U.S. for several months when he was 11 and then again at age 16; and my eldest son has lived and worked there for the past five years.)

Obtaining U.S. citizenship for the next generation has not been so easy. Because my sons haven’t lived in the U.S. for a total of five years (of which two years must be after reaching age 14) they cannot automatically transmit their U.S. citizenship to their children as I could. When my first grandchild was born, my middle son really wanted dual-citizenship for his daughter, and I was determined to help him.

A fellow member of AAWE (Association of American Wives of Europeans) who happens to be an international lawyer told me about the Child Citizenship Act of 2000.  Under this act, the child of a U.S. citizen can apply for an immigrant visa to the U.S.and obtain U.S. citizenship this way. My son first had to get a French passport for his daughter (who was only a year old at the time) and then apply for the visa at the U.S. consulate in Paris. Several months later, after completing a lot of paperwork, making several trips to the Consulate and taking the baby for a Consulate-accredited medical visit, my son learned that she had been granted the visa. My son and granddaughter then traveled to the U.S., and she became a naturalized U.S. citizen upon arrival on U.S.soil. Although they have since returned to France to live, my granddaughter now has a U.S. passport; and my son intends to bring her up bicultural and bilingual, just as I did with him.

Obtaining an immigration visa for the child of my youngest son and his French partner will probably prove to be much more complicated.. The U.S. Consulate in Paris can no longer handle the initial paperwork; all applications now have to go through a Homeland Security office in Chicago. Despite the difficulties, however, my youngest son, like his older brother, intends to go through the procedure. He would really like his child and any other children to come to have U.S. citizenship in addition to their French nationality.

As you can probably tell, my sons and I truly believe that, handled right, you really CAN be a good citizen of two countries!

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Published in: on July 25, 2012 at 2:18 pm  Comments (6)  
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Claudine LeMoal’s “Children of Breiz”

Being a dual American-French citizen, I have been sharing my time for the past two years between Paris and Berkeley, California. As a consequence of this transcontinental life, I have come into contact with both the American community in Paris and the French community in the San Francisco Bay Area.  In both places, I have met some very interesting people with whom I seem to have a lot in common. One of these is Claudine LeMoal.

Claudine between daughters

In many ways, Claudine and I are “mirror images” of each other. Born in Strasbourg in eastern France, Claudine moved permanently to the U.S. with her mother and G.I. stepfather in 1962, the same year that my parents and I left San Francisco and moved to France. Although I only stayed for three years that time round (my father’s position at the U.S. Embassy in Paris coming to an end),  I later returned on my own and eventually married a Frenchman, raised a family, studied at the Sorbonne, and taught English and American civilization for many years in the French educational system. As for Claudine, she attended the University of California at Davis, married an American, raised two daughters and taught French and Spanish in California schools.

But what we discovered that REALLY links us is a common fascination with World War II and a desire to write about it. Claudine has written “Children of Brez,  a screenplay based on true events that occurred in a village in Brittany during the German occupation, whereas I have written books about GI.’s in France and French war brides. Having this mutual interest in the war induced us to interview each other. You will find Claudine’s recent interview with me posted on my website at: http://sites.google.com/site/hilarykaiserphd/claudine-le-moal-interviews-hilary-kaiser    

As for the interview I did with Claudine, the following article is based on it.

” Children of Brez” was inspired by a story about the brothers and sisters of Claudine’s Breton father, who died when she was three. Claudine’s mother told her the story when she was a young girl, and she never forgot it. Five years ago, after studying script-writing and doing interviews and filming in France, Claudine decided to write an original screenplay.

Claudine told me her grandmother had died at a very early age, leaving behind nine children; then her grandfather died in an accident, and the children were left to fend for themselves. This was about the time the war broke out. The children, including Claudine’s father, were living in very impoverished conditions and trying to make ends meet on the farm that was left to them. Their resources were also considerably limited by the German occupation. Since it appeared that the Germans wouldn’t be leaving, as many Bretons originally thought, some of the older children decided to help out the country and joined the underground; by doing various acts, they were actually quite influential in helping the Allies move from Normandy to Brittany. To the point that local “collaborationists” exposed them, thinking they could acquire their land or whatever their motivation was. The collaborationists actually suggested to the Germans that they go to the farm at nighttime and destroy it and probably the children, too, thus wiping out any possible “terrorists”, as they were called. Fortunately, Claudine’s father and his brothers and sisters were tipped off and were able to flee into the hills before the Germans arrived. They watched the farm burn from a distance.

This story always intrigued Claudine, and five years ago she started researching it. She first thought she was going to do a documentary and went to Brittany to conduct interviews with her aunts and uncles, but they were elderly and somewhat reluctant to talk about their experiences. So it would have been difficult to create a documentary centered on their testimonies. In the meantime, she came across a document that her aunt’s husband had gotten from a friend, a local villager. It’s a first-hand account of another story that occurred about the same time. It’s about a group of young people who had gotten together on a farm to celebrate a birthday and how, again, a collaborationist, tipped off the Germans, wrongly so, saying the young people were plotting a revolutionary attack against the Germans. So the Germans proceeded to ambush them during the birthday party in retaliation. They humiliated them and, over a period of several days, brutalized them in the local villages in the area.

This account left a great impression on Claudine. She began thinking that since both stories were generated in the same local area, perhaps they could be combined as a homogenized over-story. She took several classes in screen-writing and then began writing “Children of Breiz”, which merges both stories. Breiz is the Breton word for Brittany.

Claudine said one motivation for writing the script was to draw attention to the Breton sub-culture. According to her, Brittany is very different from other regions in France. It is Celtic in origin. It’s very traditional and, given that there’s not much industry in the area, little has changed over the years. People are still ethnocentric and clannish in certain parts of Brittany.

Claudine also thinks what happened in Brittany gives a different twist to the French experience during World War II. She said the Germans were attracted to Brittany because of its coastline and proximity to Britain. And when the Germans came to Brittany, many Bretons were actually, at first, in favor of the Germans because they thought the Germans would help them separate from France! But then they realized that the Germans had come under false pretenses and that they were being occupied and abused by the Germans. She used as an example the fact that the Germans made each Breton family give up one of their sons, whom they sent to Germany to work in German arms factories. The Germans thought the Bretons would be more loyal than Jewish workers, for example, because the Germans and Bretons were, at least at first, on good terms. But then the Bretons caught on, and many young Bretons went into hiding.

Claudine admitted that she is very proud of having both Breton (by her father) and Alsatian (by her mother) ancestries. She said that for years, the French would look down upon the Bretons and not recognize the Breton culture as an important sub-culture in French society. To illustrate her point, she said that the Breton language used to be banned from schools, and such epithets as “tête de Breton, tête de cochon” (Bretons are stubborn as pigs) were prevalent. Ever since Brittany was annexed to France back in the 17th century, Bretons have had a “separatist” streak and a desire to be autonomous They have also proudly kept up many of their traditions, such as folk dances, music, and festivals. In many ways, it is the same for the Alsatians, who have their own language and customs. Claudine mentioned that in addition to affecting her Breton relatives, World War II also had an effect on her Alsatian family. Her maternal grandfather was sent to a German concentration camp, and her grandmother lived through the bombings in the countryside and providentially escaped being killed when one fell on a nearby air-raid shelter.

Claudine thinks it is a good thing that French sub-cultures like the Breton and Alsatian cultures are beginning to be recognized in France. She would like Americans to recognize them, too. She also said that the anti-French movement in the U.S. in the 1990’s was very painful to live through. At that time, many people talked about French capitulation and collaboration during World War II. “They called the French cheese-eating surrender monkeys,” she said. Luckily, the Americans and the French seem to be “friends” again, but, as Claudine mentioned, a lot of French people still haven’t come to terms with certain things that happened in France during World War II– with the collaboration, for example. “I have a hard time forgiving what happened in Bleiz,” she confessed. “It was emotionally very difficult to find out and write about it.”

Claudine hopes that her screenplay will be made into a movie, either in the U.S. or France (she’s in the process of translating it into French) or in both, and she has started seeking a producer.  Her hope is that in addition to reaching an adult audience, her film will also be seen by teenagers. “They don’t know much about this period and can learn from the past,” she said. “I’d also like to show them that young people can make a difference if they act, are pro-active, and don’t remain passive. And I think film is such a great medium for teaching teenagers. They can learn about history by watching real people in real situations. It comes alive for them.”

Health Care à la française

Having been away from France for about a year, first in China and then in California, I’m taking advantage of my month-long stay in Paris over the Christmas holidays to see doctors, my dentist and physical therapist; have tests and X-rays done; glasses and orthopedic soles made; as well as stocking up on medicine, contact lenses, and so forth.
This is because in Berkeley, where I’ve been living for the past five months and where I’m returning for an indefinite period, I haven’t got medical coverage. Of course, while in the U.S., I can get treated, but I must pay “out of pocket” and it is very expensive for people like me. I learned this recently upon consulting a doctor at the health center of U.C. Berkeley, where I am attached as a “visiting scholar.” Having come down with a parasite in my digestive tract following my six months in China, I was so uncomfortable I decided I had to consult an American doctor. My visit to a primary care doctor, two lab tests and six pills came to $450!
Luckily, French national health will reimburse me for some of my expenses, but at French rates, which are a lot less than in America. And if anything serious were ever to happen to me while in the United States or traveling elsewhere, the insurance I have with my American Express “gold card” and through my French car and house insurance will “repatriate” me back to France, as they did for my son Sebastien when he had a serious biking accident in Bolivia this summer.
But I still do worry when I’m in the U.S., and I certainly commiserate with all the people there who don’t have medical coverage. I also don’t understand why many Americans are against “a public option” on Obama’s new health care plan and want to continue being obliged to get care through private health insurance companies.
In France, we have “national health” with “a public option”, but we all pay into it—both employers and employees. Some people in the U.S. might call this “socialistic”. I call it “civic” and “wise”. If you have universal health coverage, society at large benefits. You have a healthy population, and that’s important.
I worked for 35 years in France and paid into the system for all that time. As a certified teacher and thus a French civil servant, I also subscribed to a complementary teacher’s insurance, the MGEN. The latter works very closely with French “securite sociale”, the national health care plan, and reimburses at lower rates than certain corporate or private insurance plans. (In France, you pay and then get reimbursed by the “securite sociale”; further reimbursement can then be made by your complementary insurance plan.) The MGEN doesn’t reimburse completely for such things as glasses, expensive dental care, osteopathy, private rooms in public hospitals or clinics, and so forth. And seeing a specialist is only partly reimbursed. However, when coupled with the “securite sociale”, it usually completely covers visits to family doctors, prescription medicine, physical therapy, operations and shared hospital rooms.
All this to explain why I’ve been so busy these past two weeks in France taking care of my health! In addition to the fact that I am reimbursed for most of my expenses, I also have a wonderful relationship with my doctors and health care workers here. They are all very competent, but you can also really talk to them. My family doctor gave me a big hug to wish me a Happy New Year and a great sojourn in California; the orthopedic surgeon who operated on my left foot two years ago said all was now fine, and then we proceeded to talk about Eisenhower and World War II; my physical therapist described his recent trip to Vietnam; my female gynecologist wanted to hear all about my stay in Berkeley; and my eye doctor told me how she was afraid the French medical system would become more and more privatised and then not work as well.

Published in: on January 10, 2010 at 9:56 am  Comments (2)  

Some thoughts on expatriation and “roots”

Being a long-time resident of France, I’ve tended to forget what it’s like to be an expatriate in a foreign country. I’ve felt at home in my adopted country and different from those who are only in France for a limited time. I haven’t shared expats’ initial concerns about language, housing, shopping, and culture shock. I speak French, have a French ex-husband, French sons and French friends, live on the French economy, and think in euros, meters and centigrade.

Now, however, after spending six months living and teaching in China, I can certainly relate to many of the concerns expatriates have when they move abroad. When I arrived in Shanghai, I didn’t speak Mandarin; had to use sign language when I shopped; was shocked (at least at first) by all the spitting; and suffered from the pollution, the lack of green surroundings and the crowds.

HK,_Shanghai,_April09_opt

And yet, I thoroughly enjoyed my expatriate experience. It opened up a whole new world to me. I was no longer comparing French and American cultures but discovering a new, very rich and complex, one. Nor was I continually comparing “the French” and “the Americans”. Now it was trying to understand “the Chinese”, a people that is much more diverse, individualistic, helpful, welcoming, and fun-loving than we in the West are often led to believe. Of course, speaking the language and staying on longer would have allowed me to delve further into the culture and to interact more with the local population; I only perceived the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. But my perception of China and the Chinese has certainly changed.

And while I was in Shanghai I had one of most rewarding experiences of my life, that of volunteering in a Chinese orphanage.

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I think what also helped me enjoy my stay in Shanghai were the expatriate associations, both American and French, I joined while I was there. Through them, I made new friends, went on walking tours and visits of the city and its surroundings, took a few Chinese cooking courses, discovered local restaurants and jazz clubs, even journeyed to Tibet! I also helped re-launch an international social group in Shanghai, attended the Shanghai Literary Festival, and participated in a local Anglophone writers’ group. All this, in addition to teaching fifteen hours a week at the French lycée, kept me very busy; and I rarely had time to feel “alone in a foreign country.”

I left Shanghai in July. Having enough miles by then for an award ticket on Air France, I embarked on a trip through six western states of the U.S. visiting family and friends. The landscapes I saw in the west, as well as hearing and speaking my native language again everywhere I went, soothed my soul—so much so that rather than return to France at the beginning of September, I decided, serendipitously, to lay down my bags until Christmas and give living in California another try. I’ve done this three other times since my divorce ten years ago, but circumstances always brought me back to France, where I’ve lived for nearly 40 years. Now, however, I’m retired, my children are grown, and I haven’t yet been blessed with grandchildren. Of course, I miss my sons, my friends, and my apartment (which I’ve been lucky enough to rent out), but, otherwise, nothing in Paris now really obliges me to live there anymore.

So far, I love being back in the Bay Area and the life style here. I’m reconnecting with childhood friends and making new ones, taking some classes, joining local groups, and doing research for a new book at the UC Berkeley library. Despite how much I appreciate living abroad, I’m now discovering how good it feels sometimes to return to your roots.HK,Berkeley

(an adapted version of this post recently appeared in the Nov./Dec. 2009 edition of AAWE News Paris)

Published in: on November 3, 2009 at 11:53 am  Comments (1)  
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