After almost 11 years in Norway navigating student and work visas, a denied application, and countless challenges, I finally received my permanent visa on March 8th last year. One year later, and after gaining my Norwegian citizenship in November 2024, BNCC where I am also a member, invited me to share part of my journey on this year’s International Women’s Day.
I have to start by saying that receiving my permanent visa on Women’s Day last year was deeply symbolic. As a South American woman, I’ve encountered my fair share of stereotypes and subtle insinuations about my presence in Norway throughout the years. With comments ranging from “of course you found yourself a Norwegian husband” to “now that you got your permanent visa you can get a divorce”, I noticed that, unfortunately, there is still a group of people assuming that women from certain nationalities are here solely because of their spouses or tied to a marriage, often being judged as “gold diggers”.
None of my visas have been tied to my husband, making it even more meaningful to have received the permanent residency exactly on Women’s Day. But regardless of a woman’s background in a foreign country, it is time to stop letting marital status or visa type diminish our merit as women who have sacrificed much to build a life far from home.
How I ended up in Norway
In 2010, I spent a year in Norway as a high school exchange student through a Rotary program. I bonded deeply with my host family and created wonderful memories in this cold country that was so warm to me at the time. By the end of the year, I was grateful for the experience but ready to return to Brazil to study law.
After nearly three years of law school and internships, I realized it wasn’t for me and that my creative soul craved something different. So, in 2014, I moved back to Norway for a professional makeup course, planning it as a “year off” that I could maybe use later towards a more creative career. However, I fell in love with the Norwegian lifestyle, its work-life balance, security, equality, and breathtaking nature.
Coming from a comfortable background in Brazil, which I humbly appreciate every day, knowing that Brazilian society has huge social inequality, I was drawn to Scandinavian minimalism and a society where opportunities felt more equal. I also fell in love with a Norwegian man, who today is my husband and life partner. What was meant to be a one-year stay turned into nearly eleven, filled with challenges, growth, and incredible friends and family I “adopted” and who “adopted” me.
The first bumpy ride: “Pack up and go home”
In June 2015 I applied for a job seeker visa, as my student visa was about to expire. My relationship with my now-husband was quite new, and marriage wasn’t an option. I also had the means and wish to stay in Norway on my own terms, without having people questioning my intentions or having our relationship defining my residency.
At the time, I worked part-time at a well-known makeup brand, and a full-time position was opening. Since the job aligned with the Norwegian course I had taken, I thought my visa would be approved. Well, it wasn’t. NOKUT recognized my course as higher education, but it wasn’t enough for UDI to qualify me for a work visa. When I called the immigration office, I was bluntly told to “pack up and go home.” Thankfully, after persistent calls, I received guidance from a much more helpful officer regarding my options: Have a baby, marry my boyfriend (who, as a student, needed to prove financial support), or pass a Norwegian proficiency exam and enroll in a university. We ruled out the first two, as marriage or a child for a visa wasn’t exactly in our plans. Instead, I chose the longer but more promising path, that I also believed would open more doors in the future: Studying in Norway, extending my stay on a student visa for three years before qualifying for a work visa.
I must admit that navigating the Norwegian immigration system was no easy feat. What I can say about it, in summary, is that it is a bureaucratic maze designed to test your patience and at times, it can feel like the system is stacked against you, pushing you to the brink of giving up. But through it all, I had the unwavering support of my husband, our family, and friends – something I remain deeply grateful for on this long, challenging journey.
The job market for foreigners
I wanted to fully integrate into Norwegian society and compete equally in the job market. Learning the language and earning a degree in Norway seemed essential.
I passed the Norwegian proficiency exams in early 2016, completed my bachelor’s degree in leadership and service management (with a specialization in digital marketing), and after writing all exams and my bachelor thesis in Norwegian, I graduated in mid 2019. My first frustration started here, while watching classmates with much lower grades (some even had to retake failed subjects), secured jobs faster. Once, I was invited for an interview but later “uninvited” after a brief phone call with the recruiter revealed my accent. No explanation given. I wasn’t just going through the motions. I took unpaid internships, applied for jobs early, and even won “best project” in a competition for a fashion website that was about to be launched in Norway. Yet, I watched as other students with lower merits got decent job offers much easier and faster than I did.
I guess I will never know the exact reasons; the way Norwegian companies do it is very subtle. But after hearing similar stories from other foreigners, it seems that nationality and a foreign last name might play a role.
I eventually landed a one-year paid trainee position at a PR agency. It wasn’t exactly what I was aiming for, but I was very grateful and eager to learn. With promises of having a mentor to guide and teach me, and the chance to contribute to big brand projects for their clients, I saw it as an opportunity to learn and grow.
However, what I thought would be an opportunity of development turned into yet another challenge, where I had to face a dismissive and condescending mentor instead of a supportive one. I was excluded from work tasks and feedback meetings, with subtle insinuations of Norwegian not being my mother language and therefore me not being good enough. This resulted in a feeling of not fitting in, and I started to underestimate myself and my qualities. The outgoing and confident Monica was nowhere to be found.
There are for sure various cultural shocks and situations we need to learn and adapt to as foreigners, but discrimination and bullying are not part of that list – and things really changed when I realized that.
When COVID hit, I was laid off. As a foreigner on a work visa, I had six months to either 1) find a new job or 2) start my own business and switch to a skilled worker visa under a sole proprietorship. Otherwise, I’d have to leave Norway. Few people know that UDI imposes another obstacle: Depending on your nationality, you can’t run a business while working a regular job. The typical “side hustle” approach isn’t an option unless you’re on a family or permanent visa. On top of that, foreign skilled workers aren’t entitled to NAV unemployment benefits, despite paying taxes. Without savings or immediate employment, you were in really deep waters during this time.
By then, my boyfriend (now husband) and I had lived together long enough to apply for a family visa. But with long processing times, that would make me unable to work at all. With companies laying people off, freelancing wasn’t an option without a sole proprietorship visa. I chose that path, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Doing it yourself and using your skills.
If life doesn’t give you lemons, you climb a tree, pick your own fruit and make the best out of it. Me and a friend started operating together, as we saw a gap in the market: Many small/medium companies were doing cuts during the pandemic in order to save money. This is where we saw an opportunity. Companies were short on money, but they needed to strengthen their digital presence more than ever – as the country was in lock down.
This gave me the opportunity to work on exciting projects with various organizations, from retail and lifestyle to diplomacy and service operators.
After a while I found my way back to the cosmetics industry, and landed a dream job as the marketing manager for a brand known worldwide for its bath bombs and corporate social responsibility.
Here I met a leader and colleagues who were supportive, and didn’t see a nationality or accent before my personality and skills. Today I am lucky to have the same positive experience and support from my colleagues and leader at my current workplace.
We are not digging for gold, but for dignity.
The assumption that female immigrants are all gold diggers is biased at best. Just as there are stories of men who have been taken advantage of, there are cases of Norwegian men mistreating immigrant women. But if you look beyond the stereotypes and you’ll find countless women who have built careers, found genuine love, or are after a brighter future here given Norway’s safety and political stability.
There are many “nos” before finding the light at the end of the tunnel, and Norway still has work to do on integration. Being offered a lower salary than a Norwegian for the same job isn’t integration; it’s exploitation, and unfortunately, many companies who claim to have DEI policies in place, have this almost as their modus operandi
The gold we seek is dignity , respect and recognition in the country we chose to call home, so we can hopefully contribute and keep the Norwegian welfare society growing.
By: Monica Fayad Nascimento Torset
