I moved to the Netherlands from the San Francisco Bay Area in March 2000 to be with my partner and future wife, Lin.

Lin and I met in 1982 in Amsterdam and became close friends. Sixteen years later, our deep love for each other turned to passion, and we started a long distance commute, seeing each other whenever possible, and spending much of our time together on the telephone or online.

After more than a year of flying back and forth for short visits, we decided we had had enough of the long distance relationship and that I should move to the Netherlands. We got engaged, promising to marry as soon as the Dutch changed the marriage law to include same-sex couples.

We married on May 4, 2001. The story of our wedding appeared in the June 19, 2001, issue of The Advocate.

Our wedding photos have appeared in the annual report of the Akzo Nobel Pension Fund, in several photo exhibitions, on the cover of the book Wij Gaan Ons Echt Verbinden, and in the Human Rights Watch report Family Unvalued.

Since Lin's son was still in high school, Lin asked me to move to Amsterdam for two years. Knowing it would be a challenge for her to get a work visa to move to the US, I agreed to move to Amsterdam. (I had no idea how much of a challenge it is for US citizens in binational same-sex relationships!)

I'd lived in Amsterdam before. I knew my way around the city intuitively, had old friends here, and spoke fluent Dutch.

I quickly found a job, and about eight months later all the paperwork was in place.

I dusted off my Dutch dictionaries, packed up my worldly possessions, gave away my computer and filled my mother's attic with 15 boxes of "really important stuff" I didn't want to take with me (sorry, mom!)

Because I had lived in the Netherlands before, I was stunned at how hard it was to accept the Netherlands as my home. It's the place that Lin and I can be together and where our relationship is fully recognized.

But it's thousands of miles away from my friends and family.

I felt irritable, grumpy and discontented—despite the fact that I finally had the woman I love by my side. It seemed everything was fine -- but it wasn't. I missed my friends, family, co-workers and the life I left behind. I love living in the United States. I ached at the injustice of living on another continent with no prospect of returning home any time soon.

I worked hard to make the Netherlands my home. Lin patiently put up with my vigorous home redecorating efforts. I got rid of most of her furniture and curtains and banished many of her treasured possessions (like her seashell collection) to the attic. I bought new light fixtures and bright light bulbs to help cope with the dark Dutch winters. I covered the floors with oriental rugs and spent a lot of money at Ikea. I painted our bedroom a shade of lime green that Lin refers to as "a color not known in nature." I did this while she was on a business trip to New York, so she'd have a surprise on returning home ;-)

None of these efforts took away the pain of being unable to live with my partner as a first-class citizen in the my own country, the United States.

Both my mother and my sister had major surgery the following year, and instead of being there to hold my mother's hand before she went into a scary operating room, I spent the day walking around with a knot in my stomach, 5,000 miles away.

I didn't choose to be this far away. I didn't choose to have this distance and pain, to abandon my family.

I started Love Exiles in 2002 when I saw in the Self Expression and Leadership Program at Landmark Education that I had given up hope. I saw my choice: I could continue to pretend to the outside world that I was happy while covering up the frustration and anger at being an exile. I could grow more angry and bitter with the years, alienating the people I love. Or, I could be inspired by the courageous and amazing people I meet, who leave behind their homes for love, and work to create a world that works.

The Love Exiles Foundation was established in Amsterdam on 12 February 2004.

Since "coming out" as a love exile, my family now supports me in ways I never imagined. My 9-year-old nephew wears his Love Exiles t-shirt to school. My brother and sister visited our senator's office to ask her to support partner immigration. My mother, a lifelong Republican, has become a progressive Democrat. These are miracles that I couldn't have imagined just a couple of years ago.

I still get angry and upset that I can't live in my own country. I will never get over being excluded from my own country. I still miss my family terribly. I want to be with my gorgeous nieces and nephews as they grow up. I want to rub my mother's arthritic shoulders when she's in pain. I want to hang with my brothers and run in the morning with my sister. I want to be with my dear, dear friends. It's painful to be far away. It's also enormously joyful to have two, wonderful lives: with my wife, stepson, and amazing friends in Europe, and with my family and friends in the USA. I accept that my life is wonderful, joyful and also sometimes painful.

A group that made a real difference for me is the Amsterdam chapter of Immigration Equality. This group of bi-national gay and lesbian couples meets regularly for a potluck dinner, sharing stories and resources for living in the Netherlands. Getting to know other bi-national couples, hearing their stories of finding love and establishing themselves together in the Netherlands, is inspiring. It shows me that love can move mountains.

Love exiles are the most inspiring people I know. The love in our community is tremendous, and I am honored and profoundly moved to be a part of it.

- Martha McDevitt-Pugh

Photo: Gon Buurman

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