After four years of faffing, the UK is finally, officially, out of the European Union, and we have been left to deal with the aftermath of a shoddily carried out referendum and withdrawal process. As a disabled UK citizen, living abroad in the EU, the last four years of Brexit indecision have caused a lot of difficulties in my life. Having seen a fellow sickstagrammer Pauline Castres write and draw about her experiences of being a disabled immigrant living in the UK, as a European citizen, I was inspired to share a little of my experience of Brexit, over the last four years.
The referendum announcement
The morning that the referendum results were announced, I woke up feeling fairly unconcerned. Everything I had seen, mostly from the younger generation, suggested that people were overwhelmingly against Brexit. So, when I checked my phone, I was utterly shocked and immediately very stressed. What had seemed like a somewhat unlikely and faraway problem, was now very much my problem, and I knew that, as a disabled, unemployed young person, it was unlikely that any country would want to keep me. It should also have been the happiest day of my life, because at that moment, my partner proposed to me, very romantically, by telling me he would marry me to keep me in the country if he had to!
And whilst I was very personally affected by the vote, a lot of the people around me were not, and did not take it all too seriously. I have a very clear memory that, on the day of the results, I went to lunch with a Dutch friend and he had the audacity to make a joke out of the referendum. With tears in my eyes, I told him very sharply that it was too soon to joke about it. And frankly, I think it might still be too soon – all these years later. Yet, in the Netherlands, Brexit continues to be used as the punch line of a lot of jokes. Which I guess is fair enough, but also not great for someone trying not to be stressed about it.
For the next four years, as we waited for a Brexit decision to be agreed upon, and as it got postponed every six months, my situation living in the Netherlands felt very precarious. There was very little information available for anyone, let alone anyone in the more niche situation of being disabled and abroad, and there was very little to do except to wait and see what happened.
Money
But there were some immediate effects on my life. And sadly, once more, this had a lot to do with money – the ever-existent struggle. My plans after graduating had been to apply for disability benefits in the Netherlands, which as an EU citizen I was entitled to do. I intended to stay in the Netherlands because, after living there for three years, that was where the majority of my friends lived, where my partner (I guess you could say technically fiancée, by this point!) lived – I had built a life and put down many roots there.
With Brexit looming around the corner. the UK embassy and the Dutch immigration department put out a little information regarding the status of UK citizens living in the Netherlands. This stated that, as long as you were economically independent and had lived there for a certain number of years, you would be given a residency permit. Very comforting for many, but as someone who most certainly was not economically independent it did rather mess up my plans. So, all of a sudden, my parents, who had wanted me to live where I was happy, had to cough up subsistence money, so that I could manage without benefits.
This new financial situation was stressful – not only because of the guilt I felt, living off my parents, but from Brexit again. The financial forecasters were all expecting the UK to go into an economic recession, and every time we got close to the supposed date of Brexit, there was a recession. This caused additional anxiety in that, with my income coming from the UK, during a recession it would devalue such that I might not be able to continue affording to live here. I had not, at that point, counted on the fact that corona virus would have brought much of the world into recession, so the UK would not be alone!
Staying in the country
One of the other requirements that was made clear, fairly early on, was that if you had been in the Netherlands for a five-year period or longer, as long as that time was unbroken, then you could apply for a more permanent residency permit – meaning that, if I wanted the possibility of staying in the Netherlands post-Brexit, I could not leave the country for any substantial lengths of time.
However, at this point, I had just realised how much healthier I felt, and how much more energy I had, living in warmer climates over winter, as I had been fortunate to have been able to live in Asia for some time. Now, because I knew that I wanted to be based in the Netherlands, I ended up having to travel back and forth between Malaysia and the Netherlands, in order to ensure I qualified as having lived in the Netherlands for over five consecutive years.
More difficult was the fact that, after attempting graded exercise therapy, my health got substantially worse – so much so that I was no longer able to live alone and take care of myself, so I had to move back in with my parents, for some time, in the UK. But I also had to spend the right amount of time living in the Netherlands, so that I had the chance of qualifying for a residency permit. This made it very difficult to get the support I needed when and where I needed it. Had I been less stubborn, I think this might have been the thing that forced me back to living in the UK after Brexit.
Alternative plans
During the years of waiting for Brexit, finally, to happen and throughout all the months of stressful waiting, my partner and I spent a lot of time devising ways which would guarantee me being able to stay in the country.
Finally, last year, the Dutch immigration department (IND) released a more detailed list of requirements for UK citizens wanting residency in the Netherlands. When I read these my heart sank. Either I needed to have worked a job or been a student for the entire seven years I had lived in the Netherlands, to have earnt at least minimum wage, or to have lot of money. None of which applied to me. When we contacted a lawyer, who did not have any further information, it seemed that I was stuck for options.
After some research, we settled on the process of ‘inburgering’ – becoming a citizen. This requires doing a Dutch language exam, being married, and swearing on the bible, or something similar, that you will follow the law.
Fortunately, I was already in the midst of learning Dutch. My partner and I had already progressed from reading ‘Jip en Janneke’ (a famous Dutch children’s book series) to reading more complicated Dutch literature. So, with a little brushing up on grammar and a bit more confidence in speaking, the Dutch exams did not seem too much of a problem – except where my anxiety was concerned, as I really don’t like the idea of taking exams! And my partner had already proposed(?) to me, on the morning of the referendum – so after years of stressing, it seemed we were all set, and I would just become Dutch.
And then corona…
And then corona hit. And as we all know by now, that sent everything topsy turvy. My Dutch exams were postponed once…, twice…, and then a third time. And when they were re-scheduled, I was unable to participate because I was, and still am shielding, so it was not sufficiently safe. There was the possibility of taking the exams individually, but due to a bureaucratic red tape circle, I could only do that with a doctor’s note, confirming that I am at risk, and doctors in the Netherlands have not been allowed to provide such notes, for the last two years. So that was out of the question.
So, once more, I was thrown into despair that I might be forced to leave the country and all the roots I had put down.
The application
Fortunately, at this point, I received a letter telling me that I could apply for my residency permit and I managed to find the relevant form. However, I did not fit in any of the boxes I was supposed to tick: I had not had a monthly income from any source, never mind being close to minimum wage; I was not currently employed and nor had I been employed for very long.
So, after a bunch of phone calls and a very lengthy application, where I had to prove that my income had been sufficient to cover my expenses, over the course of every possible financial situation over the last seven years, I sent in the application.
The real kick in the teeth when I saw the application, was that – after four years of financial struggle for me and my family – there was a box on the form I could have ticked saying that I had lived off disability benefits! If they had given that information four years previously, my life would have been considerably less stressful! But there you go.
It all worked out
Thankfully, it all worked out for me. Despite not fitting any of the categories, I now have a residency permit. And despite the municipal offices closing at various times during covid, we were able to get a time to be married – albeit using Haribo rings and with no family in attendance! And I will still become a Dutch citizen when it is safe for me to take the Dutch exams.
Brexit was personal
As you can imagine, over the last four years, Brexit has caused me untold stress and uncertainty. There is something scary and destabilising about trying to build a life in a country where you don’t even know that you will be allowed to stay. And being disabled in a country where there is no safety net for you, just because of your nationality, is also difficult. There have been times where this lack of safety net has almost forced me to leave my home and my life to go back to the UK.
Something that really struck me, was also how little information was available, for people who did not have employment, or were disabled, during this entire process. I know that it is not so common for unemployed, disabled people to live abroad, but I am certainly not the only UK citizen in the Netherlands who had this problem. I’m not that special! So why were we so left out of the immigration information?
This definitely leads to wider conversations on the topics of both Brexit and its effects on the disabled community – but also in terms of immigration and disability. My story comes from a place of privilege, where I have parents willing to support me, a loving partner willing to marry me and write my Dutch application letters, white skin and a UK citizenship – worth less than it once was, but still a powerful passport to have. Not everyone is that lucky and, as a result, not every story will have the happy ending that mine has had.
These conversations are often missed out when people talk about immigration and when they talk about Brexit, and I think it is important that we start to have them, so that the vulnerable, trapped in such situations, receive the support they deserve.
