Abstract
The institutional mechanisms by which young adults come to experience temporary periods of global mobility are varied, but what most have in common is a presupposition that those gaining entry into another country will return ‘home’ within a specific period. This article is concerned to better understand how young adults who are engaged in such forms of global travel manage the significant personal emotional intimate attachments that many of them make in the places that they visit when a decision has to be made about returning. Here we offer an empirical examination of what happens when an envisaged return ‘home’ is stymied by the formation of a significant intimate relationship with someone from another country. In particular we focus on the role that ‘family matters’ play in decision-making processes.
Keywords
There have recently been a number of articles published examining the sociological significance of the growing mass global mobility of young adults engaged in what is variably articulated as the ‘overseas experience’ (the ‘OE’) (Bell, 2002; Conradson and Latham, 2007; Haverig, 2011; Haverig and Roberts, 2011; Wilson et al., 2009a), the ‘gap year’ (Heath, 2007) or the ‘working holiday’ (Clarke, 2004, 2005). Such patterns of mobility have become increasingly ubiquitous among the well-educated middle classes in many nations (Allon, 2004; Allon et al., 2008; Clarke, 2005; Conradson and Latham, 2005a, 2005b, 2005c; Wiles, 2008; Williams et al., 2011). For some (Clarke, 2005; Conradson and Latham, 2005a) these temporary transnational migrants are best characterised as being part of a global ‘middle’ – a population that is, for sure, primarily middle-class, but also one that does ‘not represent elites or extremes of socio-economic status and power, privilege and poverty’ (Wiles, 2008: 120).
Global figures for the numbers involved are hard to come by but, by way of illustration, in 2008 just over 40,000 young people entered Australia from the UK under the auspices of the Working Holiday Maker scheme (which ended in November 2008 to be replaced by a new Youth Mobility Scheme), while about half this number entered the UK from both Australia and New Zealand combined. Although the exact numbers involved may be difficult to ascertain the point is that they are substantial.
What interests us here is the manner in which the sociological research literature on this topic (cited above) has come to focus on a quite circumscribed set of analytic concerns. It would not be unfair to characterise the bulk of it as foregrounding issues of affect, cosmopolitanism, individualisation, reflexivity, self-identity and subjectivity. For the most part the transnationally mobile, middle-class, young people subject to analysis in this literature are taken to embody many of the broader analytic concerns articulated by Beck, Bauman and Giddens that, as Outhwaite (2009) has recently demonstrated, have come to dominate social theory in the last couple of decades or so. If we were unable to locate dispositions associated with ‘post-traditional’ mores among affluent, adventurous, well-educated and mobile young adults then we might begin to doubt the veracity of any of the broader analytic claims made by these influential theorists. But this is not the case. Many of the studies noted above do indeed find strong evidence that – for this social group – the social world does afford high degrees of post-traditional, cosmopolitan, reflexive freedom and choice. We have no doubt that this is the case; all we want to do in this article is to offer up a caveat to this prevailing perspective by suggesting that if we track the lives of some of these globally mobile affluent young people forward a year or so we begin to see, for some of them at least, the insertion of perhaps more traditional, provincial and affective constraints on their actions. We are interested in what happens when the supposed powers of freedom that transitory forms of global mobility facilitate (Conradson and Latham, 2007; Haverig, 2011; Haverig and Roberts, 2011) become undermined by something as mundane and wonderful as falling in love.
The institutional mechanisms by which young adults come to experience temporary periods of global mobility are varied, but what most have in common is a presupposition that those gaining entry into another country will return ‘home’ within a specific period. We want to better understand how young adults who are engaged in such forms of global travel manage the significant personal emotional intimate attachments that many of them make in the places that they visit when a decision has to be made about returning ‘home’ (or not). Notions of home and family belonging have, of course, long been central to broader debates about the experience of migration, transnational social spaces and more complex forms of cosmopolitan identity (Ahmed et al., 2003; Al-Ali and Khoser, 2002; Nowicka and Rovisco, 2009; Szerszynski and Urry, 2002) but have, hitherto, only featured tangentially in the research literature on the sociology of the ‘OE’, the ‘gap year’, the ‘working holiday’, ‘backpacker tourism’ and so on (Wiles, 2008; Wilson et al., 2009a, 2009b). Here we offer an empirical examination of what happens when an envisaged return ‘home’ is stymied by the formation of a significant intimate relationship with someone from another country. What, we ask, are the lived realities for young transnational heterosexual couples trying to negotiate a life when – by necessity – one person is at ‘home’ and the other is ‘away’?
What we discover is that when it comes to deciding which country to live in – for all the discussion in the research literature of reflexive, post-traditional, individualisation processes – the primary concern for most people is with broader ‘family matters’. The data we are about to present suggests that in a transnational relationship it is not possible to make decisions within the framework of the relationship alone, but rather it becomes ‘usual’ to consider others outside of the relationship in all major and, indeed, many minor, decisions. This, perhaps, rather obvious finding runs, we think, counter to the impression one might gain about the predilections of this group of globally mobile young people from the extant research literature which, with only a few notable exceptions (Wiles, 2008; Williams et al., 2011), tends to assume that the dull compulsion of ‘traditional social structures’ is in decline. Our data suggests that, on the contrary, despite the onslaught of all manner of individualisation processes, the importance of enduring family obligations continues to be crucial in understanding the lives of this transnational ‘middle’.
The study
We recruited a small sample of young people (aged between 21 and 35, with an average age of 27) who were, at the time they were interviewed by the first named author, in 2008, in a relationship with a partner from another country whom they had initially met when one or other of them was engaged in a ‘working holiday’ or similar trip overseas. The sample was obtained by a snowballing procedure – a small number of initial participants (recruited by personal contacts and advertisements placed on websites) were recruited who then suggested other couples that fitted the criteria we were looking for – so we can make no claims to statistical representativeness. However, the sample we have gathered clearly conforms to the conceptualisation of a transnational ‘middle’ described above. What follows is thus based upon a total of 24 interviews: 6 with one person (in circumstances where it proved logistically impossible to interview both members of a couple) and 18 with couples interviewed together (so a total of 42 individuals talking about the experiences of 48). Of the 48: 20 were originally from Australia and 4 originally from New Zealand. These 24 ‘Antipodeans’ were in relationships with 24 people from the UK: 18 originally from England; 4 from Scotland; 1 from Wales; and 1 from Northern Ireland. Eleven of the couples resided in England, 10 in Australia, 2 in Scotland and 1 in New Zealand. The majority (31 of the 48) were university educated and a majority (29 of the 48) were working in a professional occupation. A summary of the sample, including the pseudonyms used in the article, is shown in Table 1.
Characteristics of sample.
The interviews were semi-structured and covered many topics – social backgrounds, motivations for and experiences of travel, the genesis and development of the relationship and so on – but with a particular focus on how the couples managed the decision-making processes, the practicalities and the emotional labour involved in living at ‘home’ and/or ‘away’. All interviews were digitally recorded and transcribed prior to thematic analysis. The transcripts were then entered into a common computer assisted qualitative data analysis system (CAQDAS) and subject to thoroughgoing thematic analysis. An initial reading of the data by the two authors generated an initial set of common issues embedded in the data. A closer reading of the data then followed with these issues in mind, and a set of open codes was developed and then applied to the data. These codes were then sorted and combined into an initial set of ‘proto-themes’. These were then examined in detail and reworked and refashioned until the authors were satisfied that they had constructed a robust set of thematic categories able to elucidate the data. What follows is based upon this thematic analysis, with extracts used from interviews that we judge best illustrate the analytic issue at hand. We have organised the order of the themes in a manner that we feel builds a more holistic sociological perspective on the complexities of the matters at hand.
Felt obligations
Even from an initial reading of the transcripts one is immediately struck by how saturated the data is with complex stories of what we might term ‘felt obligation’. The data is in sharp juxtaposition with that presented in many of the other studies noted above, within which the dominant narratives are ones of the individual freedoms, the possibilities for exploration, malleable subjectivities, emotional exhilaration and so on involved in the individual transnational experience (Allon, 2004; Allon et al., 2008; Clarke, 2004, 2005). In forming an intimate relationship with someone from a different country it is striking how the compulsion towards a duty to care for often remote others begins to fundamentally alter structures of feeling. For some, the perceived duty to provide care to other family members was the most evident issue, particularly that relating to the occurrence of significant episodes of need. An examination of this theme is thus the most useful point of entry into the data.
Mandy (ID 6, English), for example, discussed a turning point in regards to how she thought about her future, which culminated in her realising that she had to return from Australia (at least temporarily) to the UK:
I had to eventually face the fact that I had a duty to my family, I had obligations you know, I had to be fair to them.
For her, it was the diagnosis of her brother with cancer, alongside missing her mother during the preparation for her own wedding that motivated her to organise a six-month stint back in England, with her Australian partner, Rob. This complicated decision involved leaving Rob’s business in the hands of his assistants and Mandy leaving her job, as well as organising some temporary work for them, so as to have income, while they were back in the UK. This example of having to uproot and ‘return’ to provide care seems to find resonance in the experiences of many. Ben (ID 1, New Zealander), for example, expressed a perceived duty of care when his father was involved in an accident. Ben narrated ‘having’ to fly home to take over the family business while he recovered:
I found out that my dad had had an accident on the farm, and needed both me and [my brother] to go back to run it for him while he was out. What can you do, it’s family right?
While it should be acknowledged that, to a certain extent, all couples might encounter similar issues, what is striking about long-distance transnational couples is the sheer scale of such matters – and the significant implications that such ‘duties’ can confer. Rather than taking a long weekend off and driving a few hundred miles to be with kin, such couples must find ways around taking extended leave from work, negotiating often expensive last-minute flights, coming to some mutual agreement between themselves about ‘how’, ‘who’, ‘when’ and ‘what’. Often it might mean a significant period of separation, as was the case for Drew (ID 19, Australian), who felt he had to fulfil such family obligations during his application for a work visa in the UK, and whose partner was unable to travel with him:
I had to go home for a few months when my granddad died, there was the funeral which they delayed till I got home, and then I had to help Nan pack up their home so she could move in with Mum and Dad. Belle couldn’t come with me cos of work, and it was really hard being apart for so long.
Maintaining contact
In addition to these episodic ‘out of the ordinary’ events, such as death, illness and injury, most people in the study also related a strong sense of a more general day-to-day set of obligations to maintain contact. Many referred to a sense of having to keep in constant contact with the family they had ‘left behind’. Indeed, several sensed that the ‘distance’ meant that they felt this more keenly since moving overseas than they did when they lived locally to their family. Ryan (ID 11, English), a 32-year-old male, living ‘away’ in Australia with his wife and three children expressed this well:
I always feel like I have to maintain contact more regularly than perhaps I would have if I had been living an hour away from my parents. Like, when I did live in the UK, I probably only saw them three times a year anyway, and rarely spoke on the phone, but I feel like because I am living on the other side of the world I have to call once a week and email regularly. It’s a strange sense of obligation, like I am trying to make it up to them … that I left.
Others in the study suggested similar feelings of obligation in that the greater distance actually made them feel more conscious of staying in touch and visiting family. Kayla (ID 24, English), for example, explained:
I always try to tell my mum that if I was living a couple of hours away in London we would be having the same problems with seeing each other as we do now that I am in Australia, you know. Well, not the same, but we certainly wouldn’t see each other every weekend or even every month even if I was there, like. At least this way, we spend a solid month together every time she comes or I go back to England, it’s more quality time than we would have had if I hadn’t moved! I make more of an effort you know, because of the distance.
By involving themselves intimately with someone from another country, many of those living ‘away’ suggested that they felt more keenly a desire to be a ‘better’ family member. Many expressed a sense that they were trying to compensate for their absence by being especially diligent when it came to maintaining contact, sending gifts, letters or photos, and making special journeys to visit their family. Living overseas, away from family and friends, can thus, in some cases, foster stronger (albeit more distant) bonds than existed previously. Through living overseas, some participants, whether through some perceived moral duty or guilt, or merely an intensification of home-sickness or displacement, actively sought to stay in touch more consistently, and more openly, than they would have done had they been living more proximately.
Encouraging relationships
This ‘felt obligation’ to engage in personal sharing was a common theme that often went beyond simply maintaining contact. One of the most prevalent examples of this in the data was in the cases where couples had begun a family of their own and perceived a duty to ensure that the grandparent and grandchild relationship was nurtured and encouraged. Lynda (ID 22, Scottish) provides an excellent account of feeling such obligations:
I have really made an effort to encourage both our parents to build a relationship with our son. I think we have it doubly hard, because we have chosen to live in a country that is not native to either of us. Because of this, we don’t just have one set of grandparents who are put out, but both. It’s things like both birthdays that my son has celebrated have involved him having his cake in front of a webcam so that both grandparents can be a part of it in some way.
Given what we know about past research, which has suggested that women are far more likely than men to perceive a sense of duty and obligation towards family members (Finch and Mason, 1993; Stein et al., 1998), we might have expected to find something similar in the current data. However, we found little evidence of this; both men and women in the sample narrated broadly similar familial issues concerning care and obligation. If any differences were detectable these were in relation to occasional variations in the type of perceived obligation. The narratives of the men in the sample were more likely to indicate that they felt a duty to provide practical, financial and physical support to their family members, whereas among women it was responsibility to provide care and emotional support that tended to be emphasised.
Avoiding conflict
Another commonly narrated dimension of ‘felt obligation’ was the desire to avoid conflict with family members. Many interviews included discussion of how individuals and couples had attempted to appease the parents ‘left behind’. There was clear evidence of active attempts by those interviewed to construct narratives explaining why certain decisions had been made in a way that would not ‘offend’, ‘upset’ or ‘anger’ other family members. Despite these often profound feelings of obligation and duty, many couples still reported experiencing various forms of resentment from family members. Jade’s (ID 13, Australian) eloquent narrative illustrates a particular set of events that generated such an emotional response:
When I found out I was pregnant, I was really happy. I hadn’t really thought of all the potential problems at first […]. It was really only when we phoned his parents to tell them that it hit home – we expected them to be all excited and stuff but instead his mum broke down in tears and put his dad on the phone – who proceeded to question us about where we were going to live and where we were going to bring the baby up – it wasn’t the happy occasion that it should have been. And that was nothing compared to when we had to tell them we had decided to move out to Australia to have the baby. They went from liking me to resenting me in one conversation. They really are devastated; it’s caused major problems in the family.
Living with the irreconcilable
The impossibility of ever being able to reconcile the preferences of the couple themselves with those of all other close family members, despite often feeling strongly obligated to try to do so, was widely recognised in the interviews. Those interviewed were very conscious of the implications of the ‘transnational’ nature of their relationship when it came to discussions of family. They usually presented their experiences in a way that indicated that they felt that they knew how their parents or their partner’s parents felt, as well as what they thought. Mandy (ID 6, English) not only acknowledged in her account that her partner’s nationality was an issue for her parents, but also surmised how different it would be if she was in a relationship with someone from the same country:
Yeah don’t get me wrong, they are very supportive, it just upsets them is all. They love Rob, and they think we are great together, but I guess a part of them wishes that he was British. If he was British it would have been perfect – a match made in heaven.
Mandy’s assumption that she is aware of how her parents feel about her relationship and about her partner was common among participants. Most people interviewed also narrated their own feelings towards their own and their partner’s family members. Many suggested that they had been upset or hurt by the reactions or attitudes of others, and several even voiced feelings of resentment or bitterness regarding familial problems that had arisen as a result of their relationship. While the majority related that they had their families’ support, whether reluctantly or enthusiastically, there was a significant minority of instances where one or both members of the couple felt that the family of their partner was less than happy about their relationship. Sometimes it was noted that it was ‘more of an issue’ in the early stages of the relationship and that it had lessened or even disappeared over time as everyone ‘adjusted’ to the reality of the circumstances. Lucy (ID 9, English), for example, related how her parents
[W]ere really upset at first – mum was just like ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ But they are coming around to the idea now; they are like we know it’s something that you just need to do. They will definitely come out to visit; they haven’t been to Australia so it’s a good opportunity for them to travel. And my sister wants me to move just so that she has an excuse to get out to Australia. Isn’t that crazy?
Her partner’s mother was also not very positive initially, but she too seems to have ‘come round’:
I think his mum was a little bit sad about my being English – he is the youngest so it’s like I am taking her baby boy away. She was a bit funny with me at first, but she got better. I think she was bit like – I was the enemy for a while, but after she spent time with me she decided I wasn’t so bad.
In other examples, however, the issue was ongoing with no clear resolution looking possible. Michael (ID 13, English), the partner of Jade, who we quoted above, provides an example:
My parents’ reaction to our pregnancy has caused me to feel a lot of bitterness towards them. I really hate that they are putting their own interests ahead of mine and the baby. I had been feeling guilty about moving away from them to the other side of the world, but now I just feel anger and disappointment. It is impossible to talk to them and have a reasoned conversation with them about it.
Guilt and anger
Again, these issues are ones that can be inherent to all relationships, but those interviewed certainly felt that distance and separation often compounded the situation. Frustration surrounding the perceived lack of support given by parents or other family members seemed to have the common effect of turning guilt into anger. Many of the ‘away’ participants in the study felt the tyranny of distance from members of their family acutely, particularly in times of difficulty, crisis, or even celebration. They also gave accounts of possessing guilty feelings at the limited time spent face to face with their geographically distant family members. As Mason (1999: 156) suggests, in her discussion of familial geographical distance, family visits in this scenario can often feel ‘too formal, too short, too infrequent, too long, or just too morally and emotionally loaded’. Issues related to ‘guilt’ were generally spoken about with more emotion than were accounts of ‘felt obligation’. The issue was one felt most acutely among those who were in the early stages of a relationship when decisions about where to live were still ongoing. It was apparent that the partner who lived ‘away’ from their family was the most likely to first mention feelings of guilt in their narratives. However, also much in evidence was the guilt felt by those who would remain at ‘home’ about keeping their new partner ‘away’ from their family. Most participants who, at the time of interview, were living in their own ‘home’ country (and also those with plans to move back imminently) made mention that they were conscious of their role in taking their partner ‘away’ from his or her family.
Another ‘type’ of guilt expressed concerned ‘depriving’ their or their partner’s parents of time with their grandchildren. Expressing this guilt seemed important to the participants with children (or those who planned to have children in the future), and was clearly an area of discussion that had previously had much time devoted to it by the couples outwith the interviews. This is clearly evidenced by Rita’s (ID 8, English) expression of remorse surrounding the fact that her parents had not yet met her second born son:
The hardest part for us is that my mum and dad haven’t even met [son] yet. They haven’t been able to fly out because mum has particular health problems that mean that she cannot fly for months at a time if she is receiving treatment. We don’t want to fly back while [son] is so little, so they haven’t met him yet. I know it breaks my mum’s heart.
Family dynamics
What was also interesting to observe is that the decisions being made by participants in consideration of family were dynamic – they were not set in stone but rather were open to change, as the participants regularly reconsidered their original decisions in light of new developments. This is evident in the narrative of Flynn (ID 17, Australian), who suggested he had made two location decisions based on family matters:
We had been living happily enough in London, but then Sal’s mum passed away last year, and we began to talk about wanting to move back to Australia so that our kids would have a set of grandparents around. Sal acknowledged that there was nothing really keeping her here now that her mum has passed (her dad was never around, and she is an only child), and she has liked Australia every time we have been out to visit.
Family ideals
These conscious deliberations seemed relatively common. Changes in family circumstances, whether it is by death, illness or any other alterations, were often the catalyst for participants changing their plans or deciding to change their location. There were, however, several examples of participants accounting for their decisions citing family as a significant influence, but then, after having made the resulting move, discovering that the reality was perhaps not what they had imagined. In this way, it seems that some participants had an ‘ideal family model’ in mind when making their decisions, which in reality did not come to fruition. This is evidenced by Lisa’s (ID 10, Australian) account:
We decided to move back to the UK because Damien’s brothers were all starting to have kids and he really wanted to be a part of that. He had been really close to them growing up, you know. Anyway we packed up our life in Australia and flew over – but you know it was over a month before we even saw one of the brothers. They had their own life, you know, and they didn’t go out of their way to make any effort to see Damien more even though he had moved countries to be closer to them. I think it hurt Damien quite a lot, it was like as adults they were all too busy doing their own thing and living their own lives to be brothers. Eventually this culminated in Damien and I deciding to move back to Australia – he figured he was happier there, we had a better lifestyle, and if the reason for him moving back in the first place was null and void, what was the point in staying?
Families going forward
The above examples illustrate accounts where participants chose one country or another largely in relation to family matters. Some participants, however, rejected the notion that they should consider their family in their decisions. It was certainly evident in several interviews that the participants were keen to provide an account whereby they were in sole control, that they had consciously chosen to think of themselves as a couple, and do what was best for them, before thinking about others’ opinions and wishes. Ariana, a Chinese-born Australian (ID 14, Australian), eloquently summarised her decision-making process in regards to where to live with her partner:
We decided that we had to put ourselves first and family second. It is impossible to please everybody, so we have always decided we would try to please ourselves first. My family were already spread between China and Australia, and my entire life had been spent going back and forth visiting relatives in China, so we decided it was no more difficult adding another country into it. And China is en-route between Australia and England anyway, so we would be able to visit both countries and families in one trip. In my experience, families are becoming so spread out across the world anyway, it is only a matter of time before everyone has a brother or sister or uncle or cousin who lives overseas. Our decision was never going to be about where our families were, but about where we wanted to live and bring our kids up.
Others declared that they were consciously putting their relationship first, ahead of either member’s family. For these couples, the best solution to familial issues was to focus first on their own relationship – as many described it, the ‘new’ family they had created. A typical example is reflected in the following narrative taken from Liam’s (ID 8, Australian) story:
Our family means everything to us. But I think we have had to re-evaluate what we mean when we talk about our family unit – I mean I am sure everyone goes through a similar thing – but I used to think about my family backwards, looking to the past, parents, grandparents, etc., but now we have to think forwards, to our kids. Making that shift in attitudes … well it’s been really strange. When I say my family now at work and stuff, I mean Rita and the kids, not my parents and my siblings. Even though we are in the same country as my family, we live a long way away, they are in Adelaide and we are based in Sydney, so while we see them a little more often than Rita’s family, it’s not as if being in the same country always makes things easier.
Legitimate decisions
Generally, the participants in the study were keen to narrate that there were specificities – whether they were practical, emotional or inescapable – that legitimated their decisions. This was observable especially in the narratives that involved decisions about which country to live in, which country to marry in, whose family to live close to, and where to raise any children the couple had or may one day have. Having legitimate reasoning behind their decision-making seemed important to the accounts that they had developed to tell their story. For these participants, it seemed that they needed their decisions to be demonstrated as rational and ‘legitimated’ not only for others but also for their own peace of mind. As such this has much is common with the findings of Savage et al. (2005), who emphasise the importance of biographical narratives in the enactment of ‘elective belonging’ to particular places.
Taking turns
There were examples of couples ‘trading off’ where they would be for significant events, and these ranged from having alternative Christmases in both countries, having a wedding in one country and children in another, to setting money aside each month for ‘emergency trips’ back to the ‘non-lived-in’ country instead of holidays elsewhere. These decisions were accounted for as being the result of much discussion and debate, and usually involved a significant amount of ‘forward thinking’ and/or sacrifice. Such issues are voiced in the narrative of Ryan (ID 11, English):
Being in an international relationship involves a lot of sacrifice. We have had to give up a lot in order to make this work. I feel like these sacrifices vary from time period to time period, sometimes I have given up more and other times Nat has. Whichever country we are living in, one of us has given up closeness with family and friends, a way of life. It also involves a lot of expenditure, flying back and forth. We have given up one set of grandparents on behalf of our children as well. It becomes very intricate and complicated.
Sacrifice
This notion of ‘sacrifice’ was another obvious theme running through the narratives. It was clearly something that had been given much thought, and was something that that had been consciously identified. Ross (ID 7, English), a 25-year-old male, narrated that the issues of sacrifice lay as much with his and his partner’s parents as it did with the couple:
My family will be upset if we go to New Zealand. Not because they don’t want what’s best for us and what makes us happy, and of course they understand Leonie’s desire to be back near her family when we want to start a family of our own, but because they will miss out on it all. They are doing the whole: ‘It’s got to be your decision, son’ kind of thing, but essentially I know that, well, I think that they would be unhappy. I mean, I am their only son …
Neither here nor there
It is evident that for many participants, these issues will be ongoing for the indefinite future. While moving back to one partner’s country may solve the current issues, the other partner may then find that they are the ones being overwhelmed by the same issues. Thus, it seems apparent that for some, there is a sense of never being settled anywhere, of having the attitude that ‘we are here until we go there’ (Flynn, ID 17, Australian), of trying to actively solve one ‘problem’ but in doing so creating new ones. The sense of impermanence that can be associated with being involved in a transnational relationship is also captured poignantly by this extract from the interview with Geoffrey (ID 16, Australian):
We are happy enough being in my country for the time being. I mean, it is where we are now, but it might not be permanent or forever. At the moment Lucy is giving up her family and life back in Scotland for me, but we have talked about a time when I would have to do the same for her. I think we think that it will always be like that, we are here ’til we go there, and then we will be there until we come back here again. It’s kinda like taking it in turns to be the fish out of water, waiting to be thrown back into the pond again.
In a transnational relationship, save for the outcome of an entire family relocating, it is apparent that such issues must be considered, and that the degree of concern may ebb and flow over the course of the relationship. It is, however, these kinds of issues that participants often referred to in their narratives when it came to deciding where to live. Often there was the suggestion that the issues relevant to both partners were weighed against each other in order to help them decide which country to reside in. This was referred to by one participant as ‘the big question’: ‘which family should we put first – his or mine?’ (Winona, ID 15, Australian).
Conclusions
Living with this ‘big question’ hanging over the relationship was inevitable for all in the study. The texture of life for all of those interviewed was strongly imbued with a sense of being ‘neither here, nor there’, or, in other words, of not feeling that one really any longer ‘belongs’ anywhere. As transnational relationships of the sort examined here become ever more commonplace this sense of yearning will perhaps underpin structures of feeling more broadly. The simple message of this article is that, although many of the experiences of young people engaged in ‘temporary’ transnational living might well be accountable for in terms of the analytic thematics found in the new sociological ‘canon’ of Bauman, Beck and Giddens (Outhwaite, 2009), we might also want to consider how best to conceptualise the insertion of ‘family matters’ into this framework. This is not to argue, of course, that the family itself is unchanging or that it is not itself subject to the types of processes identified by such writers (Smart, 2007). However, it is to argue that the influences and impacts of family relationships, obligations, commitments and so on are perhaps more enduring and important than has hitherto been conceded.
Footnotes
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
