Can we say “expatriate” or “immigrant”?

By URelles

October 29, 2025

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Should we say expatriate or immigrant when referring to someone who lives in Quebec but was born elsewhere? These two words often come up in conversation, but they don’t mean exactly the same thing. Behind these terms lie stories of displacement, administrative status, feelings of belonging… but also, let’s face it, very different social and political connotations. Why do some people call themselves expatriates while others refer to themselves as immigrants? Do we choose the word based on our plans, the length of our stay, or the image we want to project? Before deciding, let’s take a closer look at what they mean and, more importantly, what they imply.

Quebec, a welcoming land (and a land of passage)

Quebec is an attractive destination. Whether for its universities, its job market, its quality of life, or simply its charming accent, the province welcomes tens of thousands of people from elsewhere every year.

Some settle down to study for a few years at university, others arrive with a closed work permit, a Working Holiday Visa (WHV), or come to join family who are already settled there. And then there are those who choose to settle there permanently, applying for permanent residence and, eventually, Canadian citizenship.

In short, there are a thousand ways to come and live here, but not all of them mean the same thing. You can come and live in Quebec without necessarily immigrating. And that’s where words become important: because the way you describe your journey says something about the duration, the plan, and even the intention behind the move.

Being an expatriate: living elsewhere, but not settling there

The word expatriate comes from the Latin ex (“out of”) and patria (“homeland”). Being an expatriate literally means living outside one’s country of origin.

In practice, expatriation refers to when a person temporarily resides in another country, often for professional reasons. This is the case, for example, of a French engineer sent to Montreal by her employer for two years to lead a project.

Expatriation is therefore a form of temporary mobility, sometimes heavily regulated by the employer or the type of visa, and often accompanied by an expatriation allowance (and therefore a higher salary). You remain attached to your country of origin: you retain your citizenship, often your job, and sometimes even your social benefits. The aim is not to “start a new life” elsewhere, but to enjoy an international experience for a given period of time.

It’s a bit like a long trip with a return date. You discover new things, you adapt, but you know that it’s not permanent and that you’ll eventually return to your home country.

This also potentially means that expatriates do not always invest themselves in the “same way” as those who settle permanently. For example, they may choose not to learn the local language, to remain more in international circles, or to maintain their cultural habits without trying too hard to “think like a Quebecer.” And that makes perfect sense: their goal is not to integrate in the long term, but to enjoy a break abroad before returning home.

Being an immigrant: settling down and putting down roots

Immigration, on the other hand, implies a different intention. The term refers to the act of settling permanently in a country other than the one in which one was born. It is a process that goes far beyond simply moving. It involves rebuilding one’s life in a new context, with all that this entails in legal, professional, cultural, and personal terms.

An immigrant seeks to make the host country their home. They settle there, work there, start a family there, and often take steps to obtain permanent residence or citizenship.

Let’s take a concrete example: a foreign student who completes her studies in Quebec and decides to stay and work there, then obtain permanent residence, becomes an immigrant. From the moment her plans are no longer temporary but long-term, she embarks on an immigration journey.

The same applies to a family arriving in Quebec, enrolling their children in school, looking for stable employment, and beginning to integrate into the community. From the moment they arrive, their plans are no longer temporary: Canada becomes their new country, with all the steps and commitments that this entails.

In this type of pathway, the investment is often more profound. Students learn the language of the region, take an interest in the local culture, social debates, and democratic life. They discover political parties and social issues, and prepare to participate fully in community life, particularly by voting one day.

Immigration is therefore not just an administrative status, it is also a human endeavor, that of putting down roots elsewhere, rebuilding oneself within a new social, linguistic, and cultural fabric.

Two words, two images… and a difference in connotation

While the meaning of these two words is clear, their use in everyday life is much more ambiguous.

The word expatriate often evokes something rewarding, almost glamorous. We imagine someone who goes off to live an “adventure” abroad, working in another country for a while, often with favorable working conditions. The word expat is cool, almost synonymous with success, openness to the world, and wealth.

The word immigrant, meanwhile, has inherited a heavier connotation. In Quebec as elsewhere, it is often tinged with politics, associated with debates on integration, identity, or language. In some contexts, it is even used to mark difference: there are Quebecers and there are Others. And that, inevitably, is less pleasant to bear.

It must also be acknowledged that certain political parties, here as in other countries, exploit the issue of immigration in an attempt to explain some of the social challenges facing society: housing shortages, pressure on public services, unemployment, security, etc. In these discourses, immigrants unwittingly become the scapegoats for everything that is wrong, as if they were the cause rather than the consequence or the solution to certain collective challenges.

This type of rhetoric completely erases their very real contributions, because they are the ones who keep hospitals, businesses, construction sites, schools, and companies running, enriching society with their talents, languages, and perspectives. As a result, the word “immigrant” takes on an unfair symbolic weight, when it should simply describe a human journey marked by courage, choice, and adaptation.

That’s why some people prefer to call themselves expatriates, even if, technically, they are settling down for the long term. Often because the word sounds nicer, more neutral, more positive. And who can blame them? No one likes to be defined by a term that has been politicized or used in a stigmatizing way.

But this shift is not insignificant: it shows us that words are never neutral. They reflect the way in which a society perceives human mobility.

So, what do we say?

In short, it all depends on the project.

The term expatriate refers to someone who is in Quebec on a temporary basis: for a work assignment, a university exchange, a working holiday permit, professional or educational experience, with the intention of returning to their country of origin (or going elsewhere) afterwards.
We refer to someone as an immigrant when they want to settle here permanently, obtain permanent residence and citizenship, and make Canada their new home.

But beyond administrative status, the word we choose to define ourselves also has collective weight. Saying that we are expatriates when we are settling here permanently also means, even unintentionally, contributing to maintaining the negative connotation of the word immigrant. It means refusing to associate ourselves with it because it has been devalued, when in reality, redefining it positively is part of our collective responsibility.

Words shape perceptions. If immigrants themselves no longer dare to call themselves that, the term remains trapped in stereotypes and political discourse that have given it an unfair meaning.

So yes, it’s understandable that people prefer the word expatriate: it sounds better, it’s perceived as more neutral, more positive. But when we choose the right word, the one that corresponds to our reality, we help to restore the prestige of the immigration experience. Because, ultimately, immigrating is also an act of courage, openness, and commitment that deserves to be named with pride.