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Learning the Shape of Partial Belonging

Usvainen järvi ja soutuvene

 

By: Omama Syed

Last month, Yle  published an article by Ronan Browne that just scratches the surface of how experiences of being an immigrant can create loneliness.

The article resonates deeply with my experience as an expat in Finland. Living here means holding two truths at once, the genuine beauty of what this country offers and the real weight of what it costs to stay.

Hi, my name is Omama and I am an Asian (broadly speaking ) who moved to Finland 14 years ago. I have studied, worked and made a home here in Finland . I have a lively disposition who sees the best even in difficult times.

In my earlier years here, the balance felt more manageable. There was a visible welcome mat, support structures felt more inclusive, and a sense that Finland was genuinely invested in the people who chose to make it their home.

That Finland feels increasingly distant now.

The laws introduced in recent years (extension of citizenship requirements to eight years to making residence permits more temporary and easier to revoke, implemented rule that migrants who lose their jobs must find new work within a short period e.g. ~90 days or leave) carry an unmistakable message that foreigners are a burden on society and are not welcome.

As the job market has grown bleaker, opportunities narrower, and for those of us actively seeking work, the landscape has never felt more discouraging.

The Shifting Ground Beneath Our Feet

It isn’t just policy or the law change– but it’s the atmosphere. The rise of anti-immigrant rhetoric on social media, in our government, and across Finland and Europe more broadly adds another layer of hurt. Reading comments from members of the native population that reduce your existence here to a problem to be solved is heartbreaking. It slowly chips away at you, one piece at a time, in ways that are difficult to articulate but impossible to ignore.

The Loneliness That Doesn’t Make the Brochure

Finland’s long, dark winters are a cultural rite of passage for locals. Something weathered with saunas, silence and stoicism. For many immigrants though, those months can be isolating in a way that goes bone-deep. Most of us have families on the other side of the world. There are no spontaneous visits, no familiar voices down the road. The distance becomes most acute precisely when the light disappears.

Between Bias and Belonging

Perhaps the most exhausting part is the uncertainty that lives in the mind of every immigrant here; the constant, unresolved question of whether what you’re experiencing is structural, cultural, or something of a more deliberate exclusion. That line between systemic bias and outright racism is rarely clear, and the effort of navigating it, day after day, takes a toll that rarely gets named.

I have been fortunate to find Finland’s services genuinely helpful when I’ve accessed them, and I don’t take that for granted. But I carry this country the way someone carries a complicated relationship, with loyalty, with love, and with the quiet grief of feeling like you belong to a place that doesn’t always belong to you.

 

Find the full article below
https://yle.fi/a/74-20227503?trk=feed_main-feed-card_feed-article-content

For mental health support, visit find more info on our ‘Support for mental health’ page –> https://mieliyhdistykset.fi/mieliwithoutborders/support-for-mental-health/

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