Expat vs. Migrant: The World's Favourite Double Standard
Somewhere in Bangkok, a British consultant swirls their coffee with the kind of introspective grace usually reserved for monks or philosophers. “I’m an expat, not an immigrant,” they murmur, as their LinkedIn bio proudly boasts of “embracing new cultures.” Meanwhile, across the Gulf, a Bangladeshi factory worker in Qatar is simply a migrant. No lattes. No LinkedIn posts. Just a label that suggests they belong to the “other” category of global movement, the one that governments love to regulate and newspapers love to frame as a crisis.
Why? Well, because some people get to “relocate,” while others just “move.” Some are celebrated for their “international lifestyle,” while others are scrutinized for their “impact on the local economy.” It’s about hierarchy.
The divide isn’t always enforced by the so-called expats. Many of those stuck with the migrant tag have internalized the hierarchy themselves, convinced that they will never sip from the same social cup as their Western counterparts. Welcome to one of the most ridiculous, yet deeply ingrained, social constructs of our time.
The Word “Expat” Comes From the Latin for “I Am Better Than You”
Okay, fine, that’s not exactly what it means; but let’s be honest, it might as well be.
The word expatriate comes from the Latin ex (out of) and patria (fatherland), a straightforward, neutral term for someone living outside their homeland. But its meaning has been strategically inflated over time. Today, an expat is no mere foreigner. An expat is a highly skilled, culturally refined, economically valuable presence in a country. They are there to contribute (while drinking imported craft beer and refusing to learn the local language).
Meanwhile, its linguistic cousin, migrant, from the Latin migrans (to move, to change residence) has aged like milk. Somewhere along the way, it stopped meaning "a person who moves" and started meaning "a person who moves in a way we don’t like." Migrants are framed as struggling, desperate, and unskilled, even when they’re highly educated professionals. If an Indian doctor moves to Germany, he’s an immigrant. If a German doctor moves to India, he’s an expat. Same qualifications, different label. Why? Because global mobility is about who the world thinks deserves respect.
This hierarchy is not just enforced by Westerners. It’s been internalized so deeply that even non-Westerners perpetuate it. A white Australian yoga instructor who moves to Bali for “spiritual healing” will be an expat, while an Indonesian engineer in Sydney remains an immigrant, despite being infinitely more useful to society than someone who charges $200 for a guided breathing session.
This is about perception, psychology, and centuries of colonial baggage.
Expat? Migrant? The Difference Is 90% Psychological and 10% White Fragility
A lot of actual expats couldn’t care less about the nationality of their colleagues.
Despite what certain corners of the internet might suggest, most highly educated expats aren’t spending their workdays anxiously tallying up which passports their coworkers hold. In multinational offices, competence usually trumps citizenship. If you can land a deal, write the code, or make the numbers work, no one really cares whether your passport is navy blue, burgundy, or one of those deep green ones that immigration officers stare at for a little longer than necessary.
But step outside the office, and suddenly the labels kick in hard.
A British banker and a Malaysian banker might earn the same salary in Singapore, live in the same high-rise, and order overpriced cocktails at the same rooftop bar. But if they introduce themselves at a networking event? One is an “expat,” the other is a “migrant.” Why? Because society has decided that movement is aspirational for some and transactional for others.
And it gets even more absurd when you realize this isn’t just a Western hang-up. Many people from less “desirable” countries (read: non-Western, non-white, non-rich) have fully internalized this nonsense. Instead of rejecting these artificial distinctions, they enforce them. An African professional in Germany? Immigrant. A German professional in South Africa? Expat. A Brazilian banker in London? Migrant. A British banker in São Paulo? Expat.
The unspoken rule seems to be: Westerners move for “adventure,” everyone else moves for “survival.”
Of course, this is utter nonsense. But once people believe in the hierarchy, they unknowingly help sustain it. As any economist will tell you, perception shapes reality, and reality shapes power.
If You Have a Privileged Passport, You Get to "Explore"
If you were lucky enough to be born clutching a high-ranking passport, congratulations! You have been granted the divine right to "explore," "relocate," and "immerse yourself in new cultures," even if your actual contribution to society is teaching yoga to other Westerners or running a dropshipping scam from a beach in Bali.
Now, consider the following examples of international movement:
A French guy teaching English in Thailand? Expat.
A Filipino teaching English in the UAE? Migrant.
A German startup founder in Kenya? Expat.
A Kenyan startup founder in Germany? Immigrant.
It doesn’t matter that the Kenyan entrepreneur in Berlin has more money, better credentials, and speaks fluent German. The label sticks. Why? Because the global hierarchy of movement has already been decided, without input from the people actually moving. Some passports grant their holders an aura of economic dynamism, while others come with a permanent side of suspicion.
And if you think this distinction is limited to traditional employment, let’s talk about digital nomads, the world’s favorite legal gray area. A white American living in Bali on a tourist visa while working remotely for a New York tech company? Expaaaaat. A Venezuelan fleeing economic collapse and taking a job in the U.S.? Migrant.
The difference? One of them gets featured in a Condé Nast article about "off-the-beaten-path destinations for remote workers." The other gets grilled by border security.
Turns out, "global mobility" is less about your actual movement and more about how much society has decided you deserve to be there.
The Media Makes It Worse, But So Do We
Language is a sneaky little thing. The way we talk about people moving across borders is an exercise in social engineering.
Expats “settle.” Migrants “flood.”
Expats “adapt.” Migrants “fail to integrate.”
Expats “contribute.” Migrants “drain resources.”
See the pattern? Expats are framed as assets, while migrants are framed as problems. One is an adventurer, exploring new cultures with a well-worn copy of Lonely Planet. The other is an anonymous statistic in a government report about overpopulation.
Sure, the Western media plays a massive role in this distinction. Nothing sells newspapers like a good panic about “waves” of migration. But blaming The Economist or Fox News would be too easy. This bias is global.
When Westerners move to Asia, they build gated “expat communities,” shop at overpriced foreign grocery stores, and interact with locals only when handing over their laundry. But does anyone accuse them of “refusing to assimilate”? Of course not. They’re just “enjoying their cultural experience.”
Meanwhile, Asian professionals moving to the West can speak perfect English, hold executive positions, and still be asked, “But where are you really from?” If they dare to live in a neighborhood with others from their country, it’s suddenly a “failure to integrate.”
And here’s where it gets even funnier (or sadder, depending on your perspective): Non-Western countries have started adopting this exact same hierarchy. Some governments now reserve the term expat exclusively for highly skilled Western workers, while calling their own regional migrants… well, migrants. Even if they’re all doing the same job.
So yes, the media is guilty. But so are we. These labels persist because people allow them to persist. And as long as "expats" are out there enjoying their imported almond butter while "migrants" queue for work visas, it’s hard to see that changing anytime soon.
What’s the actual difference between an expat and a migrant? Absolutely nothing, except for how much respect they’re given by society.
This entire debate is one giant social construct. It’s a linguistic illusion, designed to make certain people feel important for moving abroad, while making others feel grateful they were allowed in at all. And yet, we all keep playing along, as if "expat" isn’t just a rebranded version of "migrant" with a higher salary.
Let’s just call everyone a migrant.
No more privileged exceptions, no more passport hierarchies. If you move from one country to another, you’re a migrant. Whether you’re a hedge fund manager in Hong Kong or a fruit picker in Spain, you’re part of the same club. No special status for Westerners. No colonial residue. No double standards.