Your Visa Application has been Denied

After my passport was stamped with a Danish visa at the consulate in Ottawa, it became stranded in a plane grounded by a fierce snowstorm. The envelope, bearing my essential travel document, did not reach me until just 30 hours before my scheduled departure to Denmark.

During my stay in Copenhagen, I needed a study permit extension to return to Canada. My initial application was denied, tangled in the complexities of the required paperwork. The nearest visa office was in Berlin, prompting me to make three separate day trips in hopes of reconsideration. At last, a new study permit was granted - though not until three weeks after the semester had already begun.

I made the bold decision to visit my Tinder date in the UK, navigating all the hurdles to secure a visa. But in the end, the British visa didn’t arrive before my flight took off. Maybe this is how I never got to see the love of my life.

It was 3 a.m., and instead of working on my project, I sat alone in the studio, drafting an explanation letter to the Danish ambassador. I explained that my mother simply wanted to visit me without other intentions. Every itinerary had been meticulously planned by me, and I was desperate to see her.

A visa is a reflection of the diplomatic relationship between my home country and yours. The ease or difficulty of obtaining one often mirrors the closeness or tension between nations. It carries within it not only the weight of history and politics but also the complex story of my life - my education, my moves, my travels, my mother’s birth certificate, even a notarized document to confirm that my father is indeed my father. A visa is more than just a legal authorization; it’s a declaration that I am deemed acceptable and threat-free to cross your borders. A stamp, not merely on paper, but almost on my flesh.

Every new visa application feels like a crisis waiting to explode, where every misstep threatens to alter the course of your life. The anxiety never truly fades until your fingers brush the texture of each visa stamp, each worn page of your passport. In retrospect, every visa I’ve applied for has paved the way for the life and experiences I now hold. When you look into my eyes, know that I have crossed mountains and oceans to meet your gaze.

I often fantasize about a parallel universe where the earth isn’t divided by the concept of ‘countries’—a world free from borders and the limitations they impose. Isn’t the idea of nations so human-normative, a construct we’ve built to confine ourselves when, in truth, the land beneath us knows no boundaries.