Their parents came to the United States seeking opportunity, safety, and a better life. Now, decades later, their children first-generation Americans are choosing to move in the opposite direction, driven by similar motivations but finding meaning elsewhere.
I’m one of them. I was born in New York, the only one in my family with a U.S. passport at the time. My upbringing was split between the United States and Japan, but for the past 17 years, I’ve called Singapore home and have raised my family there. My parents are originally from Argentina, though both were first-generation Argentines themselves my father was born in Austria, and my mother’s side came from the UK.
Whenever someone asks me where I’m from, I hesitate. Do they mean where I was born? Where I spent my childhood? Where I currently live? Or perhaps they’re asking where my roots are. Are they expecting a one-word answer, or are they open to a story that stretches across generations, languages, and continents?
Over time, I’ve stopped trying to condense that answer into something neat and palatable. That complexity has become a part of my identity and it’s also made me more curious about how others navigate that in-between space.
That curiosity led me to speak with other first-generation Americans who have made the choice to leave the United States and return to the countries their families once fled or left behind. This story brings together their voices individuals who walked away not just from the American Dream, but also from their parents’ sacrifices, in search of something uniquely their own.
According to the Association of Americans Resident Overseas, approximately 5.5 million U.S. citizens currently live abroad. This estimate, based on international census data, excludes military personnel stationed outside the country. It’s unclear how many of those citizens are first-generation Americans or how deep their immigrant roots run, but within that group is a growing number of people who are reshaping the idea of what “home” means.
Some of them are in pursuit of jobs. Others are looking for a more affordable lifestyle, a slower pace, or simply an adventure that makes them feel more alive. And many are returning to lands their families left not with fear or bitterness, but with curiosity and intention.
Lily Wu, a compliance professional born in the U.S. to Chinese parents, grew up in Boston and spent much of her childhood trying to assimilate fully into American culture. But in her twenties, she moved to Hong Kong and found herself reconnecting with parts of her identity that she had pushed aside for years. “Now I find myself wanting to be more Chinese,” she explained, reflecting on a journey of rediscovery.
For Catherine Shu, the decision to leave the U.S. came as a shock to her parents. She was thriving in a dream publishing job in New York City when she chose instead to relocate to Taipei the very place her parents had left in search of better careers as architects in America. Their surprise, even disappointment, mirrored the difficult tension many immigrant families face: reconciling dreams of stability and success with the unpredictable journeys their children eventually choose.
Ai Vuong, a filmmaker whose Vietnamese parents resettled in Texas under the Humanitarian Operation program, also felt drawn to the place her parents viewed primarily as an escape. To them, Vietnam represented hardship and war. To Ai, it was a space of heritage, memory, and self-discovery a place she longed to live and work.
What links all of these stories is a deeply familiar conflict the push and pull between assimilation and belonging, between fulfilling expectations and embracing authenticity. These first-generation Americans were raised with the cultural weight of gratitude, often feeling an obligation to make their parents’ sacrifices worthwhile. But their paths took them elsewhere, and their decisions were not rejections of that legacy, but extensions of it reframed by time, perspective, and personal values.
For many, leaving the U.S. wasn’t a betrayal of the American Dream, but rather a reevaluation of it. What was once defined by material wealth, security, and upward mobility has evolved into something more personal: the dream of belonging, of cultural wholeness, of a life that feels aligned.
And for these individuals, finding that life meant leaving America.
