Open Column for Volunteers: Women’s mental wellbeing and immigration

Women’s mental wellbeing and immigration

Julkaistu 9.5.2025 | Vapaa palsta vapaaehtoisille

Although research of foreigners’ mental wellbeing in Finland, referred to in the graph below, focuses mostly on refugee experiences, I have discussed its findings with quite a few of my students and concluded that these stages apply, in one way or another, to all of us who’d moved countries.

While it is true that immigration comes in many different shapes and flavours, practice shows that any form of it, no matter how consensual and enthusiastic at the start, can be a continuous source of stress. I’ve worked with people who came to Finland to study, to be with their partner, and to work. I’ve worked with refugees and with ethnic Finns who returned to Finland in the 90-s. There are, of course, significant differences in people’s experiences – both between the groups and within them. There are also some important similarities, and those common threads I’m going to focus on in this article.

Similarly, the difference in status with a Finnish partner has a strain on relationships: even with the most helpful and understanding spouse, it can be hard to be the one who always needs help and guidance – and it could be harder to set boundaries, if your being in this country depends on this relationship. It is hard for the Finnish partner, too – here they were, living their life, unaware that they had any privileges whatsoever, and suddenly they end up a translator, an advisor and a guide in all things, potentially for years to come. As many of us might have found out by now, it is not easy to represent the whole culture, either, whichever one it might be. Some people could act out their insecurities by holding the differences in their status as a bargaining chip against the other partner – it goes both ways. The hardships of splitting up, especially if children are involved, are well known and much discussed in the media.

Then there is, of course, the language. Unlike any other, with barely any relatives, Finnish is not the most forthcKioming language to be learned and mastered. I came here to study in English – I was teaching it for some years by then, and was certain it would be easy. Then, on about the second year of reading, listening to lectures and writing reports in it, I got tired. I started confusing words, having memory gaps, forgetting my native language. One of my university professors, himself a native English speaker, told: “Oh yes, working in a foreign language is like banging your head on a wall – it feels good when you stop”. I later found out that he was likely referring to his own work in Finnish. After graduation, I went through the whole integration process with Finnish. Since then I’ve passed the YKI test on the highest level then available, studied and worked in Finnish, and now am teaching it, and I’d like to say it here out loud: it is hard to study and work in a language that is not native or even first foreign for you – and it’s particularly hard to do so in Finnish. There are just too many synonyms, grammar perks, rules, exceptions and “just because-s” for any foreigner’s comfort. Which is not to say that you shouldn’t even try to learn it – on the opposite, a decent level of Finnish proficiency opens many doors. This is more about our chase for perfection – the point I’m getting to, next.

However complicated all of this is for foreigners in general, there are specific strains related to being a woman-foreigner. By no means is it easy for men, either: they are often affected by the expectation to be a family provider, while not only their own happiness and comfort, but sometimes even their basic needs end up neglected – as is illustrated by statistics of men, both immigrant and not, seeking help, including mental health services, significantly less than women. I read somewhere an immigrant man telling something like: “everyone in my family has gotten assistance, including my dog, but not me”. Women, though, have their own challenges. Research shows that, for instance, they are more likely to work remotely and part-time, to be able to look after children. In Finnish context this means that their worker’s rights are less taken care of, since most of the trade unions, collective agreements and worker protection laws have been developed with full time job contracts in mind. Oftentimes remote and part-time work comes in a form of freelance, which in practice means no worker rights whatsoever, because you are officially a business.

This, combined with the local inclination to separate spousal finances, could leave foreign female spouses at an economical disadvantage, although their level of education might be the same or higher than that of their partner. Add the difficulties in finding a job in here in general, but especially with a foreign name and a degree from a university that employers know nothing about, which might subconsciously render it suspect in their eyes. Then there are common tendencies, such as higher salaries in male dominated industries, such as production and IT, versus lower ones in female dominated ones, such as education and care industry. Shorter term and less reliable work contracts, too. Plus, the difficult new language, plus childcare, plus, well, prejudice against all things foreign we all know exists in this society – all of that combined is a significant source of stress, not to mention the strains it puts on relationships.

Many of us come to Finland already perfectionist, having been told our whole lives, as girls, that we were not good enough and never would be. We come here, in one way or another, for a better life, but instead we keep hearing that we should just complete these couple of degrees, learn Finnish that much better, all the while working full time, and not to forget to be a perfect mother and keep disproving by our very existence all of the stereotypes there might be about the part of the world we are from – these double bounds create the pressure to be more than perfect – a super human, an extreme achiever, in fact, but also “don’t forget to smile, and don’t be so intense”.

Do I have a recipe to counter all of this? Not quite – just some observations. Like the fact that way too often we are our own worst judges. One critical remark or a scowl could stay with many of us for weeks if not months, while compliments we hear we tend to brush off as people “just being nice”, or even patronizing (which, admittedly, they sometimes are). Trying to fulfil absolutely everyone’s requirements is, honestly, exhausting, not to mention impossible, because different people’s ideas of what we should be too often contradict each other. One cannot be studying full time while working full time while being a stay-at-home mother, having friends and hobbies, and be an altogether well-rounded happy person with a perfect life and family 24/7. In local realities – all of that also in perfect Finnish which you have learned with no time off from your regular duties. If no one else does, let me be the one to tell you: all of that is impossible to achieve, and you don’t have to even try. What I suggest is that you find out the minimum requirements for what it is you want to do with your life and focus your efforts on that.

We saw on the graph that it gets easier with time – if less exciting, then at least more settled and serene. I’d argue that, exactly when the biggest struggles are over, it is time to remember what matters to you and go for it. For whichever reason we came here in the first place, there was something that we wanted. If it was safety, then consider, in addition to everyday existence, safety to do what? That thing, however little, should not be forsaken, if we want to not just survive, but, eventually, strive. I believe that, however naïve that initial dream could appear after all the trials and tribulations of immigration, it had in it a seed of the essential truth that must be in time remembered. Lately I’m rediscovering that I came here to find my voice, to be able to speak out about things that are important to me without a threat of persecution. So, however scary and vulnerable it feels right now, I’m writing this, after many long years of silence and occasional anonymous blog posts, with my own name – in hope this inspires you to do what matters to you. Strength be with us all!