They Left, and found themselves. Black Queer Expats in History
There is part of the expat story we don't talk about enough. We see the highlight reel—the cobblestone streets, the affordable healthcare, the sabbaticals turned permanent. But what we don't see is the moment before the leap. The quiet calculation. The question that sits heavy in your chest: What if I could live differently?
For us, that question carries extra weight. Because "differently" isn't just about geography. It's about the possibility of existing without code-switching, without hyper-vigilance, without the exhausting work of translating yourself in every room you enter.
So let's talk about the ones who left and what they found.
The Architects of Escape
James Baldwin didn't just move to Paris for the croissants. He moved because he believed he would "kill or be killed" if he stayed in America. From his perch in France and later Turkey, he wrote The Fire Next Time and Notes of a Native Son—searing indictments of the country he could only see clearly from a distance. The physical space gave him the psychological space to dissect America's machinery of oppression without being crushed by it daily.
Pauli Murray, the brilliant non-binary legal scholar who co-authored the arguments that won Brown v. Board of Education, left for Ghana in 1960. There, in the afterglow of independence, Murray taught constitutional law and breathed air that wasn't saturated with Jim Crow. The distance didn't weaken Murray's impact on American justice; it sharpened it.
And then there's Kelis. Yes, that Kelis. She bought 300 acres in Kenya, built a farm, and is now establishing a luxury wellness retreat. On a 2025 podcast, she spoke plainly: she wanted sustainability, self-sufficiency, and a life where her wealth could build something generational in a place that welcomed it.
What all three understood: leaving isn't about loving your country less. It's about loving yourself more.
The Math of Freedom
Here's what those Instagram reels of golden-hour sunsets in Lisbon don't tell you: moving abroad is expensive before it gets cheap.
You'll need money for visa applications, apostilled documents, translations, flights, housing deposits, and the terrifying liminal space between "I just arrived" and "I figured it out." Most seasoned expats recommend a 6-12 month financial runway. Not because you'll need it all, but for peace of mind.
The good news: the cost of living in places like Mexico City, Lisbon, or Medellín can cut your expenses in half—or more. That financial margin creates something priceless: time. Time to write, to build, to rest, to imagine a version of yourself that isn't tethered to survival mode.
The Invisible Question: Will I Be Safe?
This is the one that keeps you up at night. Because "LGBTQ+ friendly" on a tourism website doesn't mean safe for Black queer bodies. It often means "friendly to white gays with money."
So you do the work. You join Facebook groups like "Black in [City Name]" and ask the uncomfortable questions: What's the dating scene like? How do locals react to natural hair? Are the police dangerous? Do queer spaces here actually center us, or are we tokens?
You check Equaldex for legal protections and GeoSure for neighborhood-level safety scores. You find the Black-owned businesses, the queer collectives on Instagram, the locals who will tell you the truth without a filter. You build your map before you board the plane.
Because the dream isn't just about leaving. It's about arriving whole.
The Thing No One Tells You
Homesickness isn't missing home. It's missing the ease of home. The barber who knows your head. The friend who finishes your sentences. The church, the cookout, the knowing glance across the room that says I see you, sis.
You will grieve this. And that's okay.
The expats who thrive aren't the ones who deny the grief. They're the ones who build something new alongside it. They find the international market that sells plantains. They video call their people every Sunday. They join a local sports team, a language exchange, a volunteer group. They make one friend, then two, then five.
And one day, months in, they realize: they have a new ease. A new home. Not a replacement, but an addition.
So. Are You Ready?
Here's the real question: Are you running from something or to something?
If you're fleeing a bad relationship, a toxic job, or even the weight of American racism—those are valid reasons to consider change. But problems are portable. They fit neatly in carry-on luggage.
The people who build lives abroad, not just vacations, are running toward something. A specific opportunity. A better quality of life. A culture that sparks their curiosity. A dream they can finally afford to chase.
You can, too.
Ready to turn the dream into a plan? Our Flight Plans: Black Woman's GPS for Global Living is your step-by-step roadmap—from getting your passport apostilled to finding queer-affirming doctors abroad. It's the guide we wish we'd had. And for a limited time, it's $15 (normally $30).
Because the world is bigger than the box they built for you. And you deserve to see it all.
