People in Argentina often ask me where I come from, and I usually don’t know how to answer.
My identity has always been multifaceted. I was born in El Salvador and raised in the United States, where I was an undocumented immigrant. The experience of growing up undocumented colored my life in Los Angeles, California, where I grew up. There were other undocumented people in my community when I was young, and not having a green card was an open secret for many of us. Being undocumented meant having to talk to lawyers, keep tabs on any immigration news that might affect me, and do well in school so I’d be ready to justify why I belong in the U.S. at any given moment.
I didn’t obtain U.S. citizenship until 2012, when I was 24 years old. Today, I live in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where people frequently ask about my dual identity in both English and Spanish.
Expat life in Argentina
I moved to Argentina for the first time in 2013 because a friend invited me to join her when she traveled there for a new job. We were both freelancers, and I thought it would be nice to check out South America for the first time. That was my first trip with a U.S. passport, and I realized how much easier it was to travel. For example, I didn’t have to answer questions about where the U.S. was.
I began building a freelance writing business in Buenos Aires. While in the city, I also used websites like Couchsurfing and Meetup to meet travelers and locals and make new friends. I met digital nomads, backpackers, and locals who enjoy getting to know people from other cultures. Some were Argentinians who wanted to practice English, and I also met Brazilians who helped me learn Portuguese.
Over the years, I worked to adapt to some of the local customs. It took a long time for me to get used to eating dinner at 9 or 10 p.m., but eventually, my body got used to it. I also learned to enjoy the taste of fernet and yerba mate.
Throughout my years in Argentina, I realized I didn’t fit into a neat category like others.
I had to get used to answering questions from locals and other travelers: do you feel more Salvadoran or American? What’s El Salvador like? I didn’t have answers to these questions because I grew up in the U.S. Sometimes, those questions hurt. My family was busy trying to survive when I was young, so I had little information about my culture. Nevertheless, I’m glad that people asked. It motivated me to visit El Salvador more often and teach myself how to make a few Salvadoran dishes, like pupusas.
On teeth
Because I didn’t have a green card as a child, I didn’t have access to specialized healthcare, including dental care, until I was an adult. Most of the time, I could access the school nurse, get basic dental cleanings, and get vaccines or checkups. But that was it.
It was during my time living in Argentina that I began to experience some severe problems with my teeth. I had to get regular deep cleanings, a root canal, and have my wisdom teeth pulled. I spent a lot more time at the dentist than the average expat. Still, the cost of these treatments was roughly $40,000 less than what I would have paid in the U.S.
Even so, once, a kind dentist refused to charge me for his services because he knew how much money I would have to spend on my teeth in the future.
A stint back in the states
I left Argentina in 2019 because my long stint in the country strained my relationship with family and other friends I’d left behind. I had been abroad for almost six years by that time.
The COVID-19 lockdown was a scary time to be a freelance writer. However, I eventually found my footing, received two grants to support my work, and continued to pursue my hobbies, including drawing, playing music, creating sketches, and, eventually, standup comedy.
My original plan was to segway into travel writing and move to Southeast Asia for a few months so I could travel, save up for a deposit for an apartment, and relocate to a city like Atlanta, New Orleans, or Raleigh, North Carolina. My parents lived in Mississippi, and I wanted to be near them, but I also wanted to be in a bigger city where I could pursue more opportunities. None of that worked out.
In 2021, I received some startling medical news. I needed to have all of my teeth pulled because of genetic issues. I was 35, and my doctor recommended implants and bone regeneration to support the titanium nails I’d need for the implants to stay in place. My bone loss was affecting my sinuses and impacting my breathing. The estimated cost for this dental work was $70,000. My doctor didn’t work with insurance.
I was in Mississippi at the time, so I decided to look for options in other states. Most other U.S. states had a much higher cost of living than Mississippi, and implants would still be unaffordable. But I had another option. I decided to leave the country again.
Migrating for medical care
I returned to Buenos Aires because I needed to find more affordable dental care before my bone loss became so bad that doctors couldn’t operate. I knew that my knowledge of Spanish and experience in the country would help me navigate the medical system there.
Unfortunately, my former dentist said he couldn’t treat me because I needed an oral surgeon. I found a new doctor who said my treatment would cost $32,000 over two years. That’s a large sum, but I was relieved it was much less than I would have paid in the U.S.
Still, Buenos Aires had changed during my time away. The city has been plagued by increased rents thanks to the unregulated use of Airbnb, over-tourism, and gentrification spurred by immigrants from high-income countries, who are often called expats.
Many Argentinian friends don’t see me as a typical American expat because I’m originally from El Salvador and settled permanently in Buenos Aires for medical reasons. Nevertheless, I believe it is essential to understand the privileges my passport affords me and to talk to other U.S. expats about how our presence in Argentina affects the local population.
Becoming a Third Culture Kid
In the years since I moved back to Buenos Aires, I’ve started to form a new understanding of my identity. I’m not a typical digital nomad or an expat who moved to Buenos Aires for a glamorous life. Instead, I prefer to be called a “third-culture kid.”
A third-culture kid is someone who spent a significant portion of their formative years in a country other than the country of their or their parents’ origins. I believe that describes me well.
Having a U.S. passport provides me with opportunities. Even though the U.S. and its lack of universal healthcare made me move abroad, U.S. citizenship has also helped me pay for dental treatments. That’s because I can work remotely and earn a living in U.S. dollars. I still have to work long hours, but I can save enough money to pay for everything I need.
Having a laugh
As the child of immigrants, I don’t have access to generational wealth. That means I have to work hard whenever I’m not recovering from my health issues. But thanks to Argentina’s late-night culture, I can still have fun after working hours. I visit museums, spend time with friends, and check out new restaurants whenever possible. I also do standup comedy.
During the COVID lockdown, The Second City comedy school started offering classes online, and I jumped at the opportunity. After doing a few shows in English, a local comedian in Argentina suggested that I try stand-up in Spanish. He said I could speak well enough to try, which would help me get on stage more often.
Humor helped me approach some of the awkward moments in my life more lightly and gave me stories I could tell friends back home. It helps me deflect when I’m too tired to explain my identity again. Most importantly, comedy has allowed me to turn my third culture kid identity and healthcare stories into entertainment.
Explaining who we are and where we come from can get annoying, but it’s also helped me have stimulating conversations and continue to meet people in similar circumstances. I don’t have to choose between being Salvadoran or American anymore. Identifying as a third-culture kid gave me another anchor for now.
Ingrid Cruz is a freelance writer, journalist, and coffee connoisseur. She likes to read, draw, and do standup.
