Visa… Depending on your background, this word has the potential to conjure two completely different images. For those born and raised in Canada, the word probably evokes thoughts of frivolous purchases at the mall, and overdue payment notices. But for those of us who hold foreign passports, the word usually brings to mind images of countless forms needed to be filled out (“Only blue or black ink please!”), hour-long lines at embassies, and sacred documents attached to our passports.
It surprises me how many Canadians are unaware of the hassles most foreign students must endure just to cross borders. For most Canadians, traveling can be as spontaneous as buying a ticket at the airport and getting to any number of destinations that same day. For us internationals, however, vacations must be planned months in advance. We have to make sure we’ve filled out the proper forms, paid the obligatory fees, and gone through the necessary background checks that treat us as though we were common criminals.
Case in point: This summer I attempted a trip to the United Kingdom only to find out a week before my departure that I had been refused a visitor’s visa. Now if you’ve ever met me, you might wonder why; I’m a hard-working university student who’s well-traveled and I speak English without the slightest hint of an accent. On paper, however, I’m of Sudanese descent, born in Saudi Arabia and have never lived in a country for more than four years. In the eyes of a visa officer it doesn’t get more suspicious than that.
The entire experience was extremely depressing. Sure, I’ve been rejected before, but never in my life had I been snubbed by an entire kingdom. In the rejection letter itself, the officer barely stopped short of accusing me of wanting to become a refugee in his beloved England and mooching off of his government—something I took great offense to, considering all I was asking for was a week to visit my aunt, a British citizen.
For the record, I plan on reapplying in the future. There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to visit my relatives because I happen to be from a certain part of the world. It’s about personal pride: I refuse to quit until I’m allowed into that officer’s country—dodgy-looking, neongreen Sudanese passport and all.
I suppose the visa process is absolutely necessary—especially considering the state of the world and the threat of terrorism. But too many people take their nationalities for granted and don’t realize what it means to not hold a Canadian, American, or EU passport in the 21st century. Few know what it feels like to be looked up and down by an airport official after he’s seen the color of your passport, as though you’ve just done something horribly wrong—even though the worst thing you’ve probably done in the last few hours was stick a piece of gum under the arm of your airplane seat.
So if you’re lucky enough to be from a place that doesn’t require an arduous once over whenever you wish to travel, perhaps now you will appreciate it more.
