The Little Mermaid was an expat
The Little Mermaid was an Expat
The Little Mermaid is one of Copenhagen’s favourite attractions. Her easy access to the spotlight has also made this bronze Ariel one of Copenhageners favourite forums of protest. The onset of COVID lockdown, was no exception. On the morning of April 8, 2020, I found her adorned with a face mask, as if her hybrid breathing would not presumably have already been compromised enough. To most the sight was comical. To anyone who relates to the Little Mermaid on any level, the added accessory may have struck a cord.
The statue acting as a protest symbol makes sense for more than her instagrammability. Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid fairytale was a protest in itself. The tale was published in 1837, after Andersen’s heart was broken by a love that could not be, leaving him desolate and voiceless in a time when homosexuality / being non-binary was not to be spoken of. This pre-Disney version of the Little Mermaid spoke of the devastating pain and loneliness of being out of one’s element, sacrificing one’s authenticity for love and norms.
For those that are not familiar with the original tale, the Little Mermaid was the youngest of her sisters and the last to have the privilege to get a glimpse of the funny world where people walk. On her 15th birthday, she excitedly swam to the surface, where she fell in love with a prince and saved his life. Confusion with the next face the prince saw, led him to believe that it was another that had saved him. The Little Mermaid went back to the depths of her home to ask how she may join the world above and get a human soul. But mermaids live 300 years and may only visit land once a year. Her passion led her to the Evil witch, who offered to make her dream come true, in exchange for her enchanting voice. In addition to entering the world of mankind voiceless, there would be excruciating pain on her new feet. Finally, should the prince choose to marry another, the very next morning she would turn to foam. Her love made her take the chance but the prince found the princess he thought had saved him. Her sisters sacrificed their flowing mermaid manes to afford her one last chance: a potion she would drink and stabbing the prince would allow her to return to the world of mermaids. She could not bring herself to cause him harm: “She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it.”
Having only a half human form has attracted the Western human imagination since Homeric times, with sirens having half a bird and half a human figure. In Hellenistic times this evolved to half a fish and half a woman. What has sparked man’s interest in these hybrid creatures? Greed? Indecision? Imagination? Dissonance? The fairy tale has lent itself to many interpretations.
Many of us can feel like a mermaid / merman at times. We need to fill many roles, and can feel caught between worlds and “out of our element”. In the case of expatriates (from the Latin to be out of one’s homeland - with no other distinction in this piece) the connection to the Little Mermaid story may be more direct, in a metaphorical way. Taking a leap of faith to leave behind the world you know, in pursuit of the longing for a person / job / adventure, though initially sprinkled with promise and hope, can quickly reveal another reality. No matter how much you research, or have visited beforehand, the actual move is quite another story. Excessive longing for the past and worry about the future can easily lead to depression and anxiety lurking in.
Much like the Little Mermaid, changing home, you find your voice is lost - be it due to not speaking the local language, being uncertain of your humour in a new culture, or even of the volume of your voice and hand gestures. And much like Ariel’s movements looked graceful, but her feet ached with every step, the “steps” an expat makes in a new country, be it professionally, socially, or on a personal level, can at times feel agonising. Finally, just like Ariel, expats can feel great loneliness.
The divorce rate amongst expat couples is quite high. In the case of couples composed of a local and their partner whom they may have met abroad, now trying to share a life in the familiar territory of one, can feel disorienting. With one being away from recognisable circumstances and in the midst of new challenges, it can feel like “Prince Charming” did not see the right person when falling in love. While in the case of unions composed of two expats, caught in the process of preparing for a move, tensions in the couple may go unresolved and then be heightened with the subsequent move and the added tension of navigating a new landscape without the accustomed support system of friends and family.
What of the Little Mermaid in a face mask?
The outbreak of COVID with everything it has entailed has been painful for humans the world over. Some say it may be the most challenging time collectively since WWII. On a positive note, some have mentioned that this has added to a common sense of humanity and understanding of the vulnerability of balance. It has also shed light on how close to our threshold we live in the stressful lives we lead. However, there are undoubtedly groups of people for whom this may be harder. Expats may be said to fall in this category.
In Gestalt we use grounding as a method to return into one’s window of tolerance. In mindfulness this is accomplished by using anchors. When you are feeling like the earth you are on is not quite safe or familiar territory, it may feel harder to engage in this practice. The very land you are on may feel disregulating. Being away from a healthcare system you know how to navigate your way through, where you have the words to describe your symptoms, is all of a sudden not available. News translated will reach you slower, giving the illusion you are one step behind.
We have become so accustomed to the mobility that allows us to work miles away from family and friends and our comfort places. With the closure of borders, expats are much like the Little Mermaid with a no return policy. Being away from family means you not only miss them and worry about them, but in the case of the older ones, wonder if you will ever get the chance to see them again.
Few have not experienced some financial insecurity with the outbreak of COVID. Expat families often face the burden of one member being solely responsible for earnings, while the other carries the weight of family matters, putting their own ambitions on hold or redefining them. The fear of losing a job as an expat is, hence, multiplied. Sometimes there is no plan B available, in the form of mom’s home to crash in, for example. In some cases, the permission to stay in the country should the job be lost is at stake.
And it is the very resilient nature in people that often results in them choosing the expat life. These are people that are open to taking a chance, attempting to learn even the most difficult of languages in their new home, enduring a different climate and lack of sunlight. Expats are often people that are more accustomed to adjusting to new parameters and making the best of those; choosing another career path, being like family to their new friends, and finding in the process reserves of strength they never knew they had.
In the case of COVID, also, expats’ familiarity with making creative adjustments may aid to soften the blow. Expats are used to trying to make the most of it, to seeing their loved ones over Skype, to missing many things and places. For example, while many locals mourned the lack of help from grandparents during the first days of the lockdown, for expats there was less to miss. The downfall is that expats are used to fighting their own battles. We must remember it is also ok to reach out for help.
The Little Mermaid did not marry her prince. She did not make it back home to her sisters, either. But she became quite another creature. She lost her mermaid tail. She lost her dancing feet, too.. But she got wings, instead. And an eternal soul. What wings are you growing in this transition? What soul purpose drives you? What has home come to mean to you? Which masks serve you and which do not?