I left America. It took a Slovak passport to feel at home in Europe.

For years, my life in Europe depended on visas and luck. A passport changed everything.

Illustrative image (source: Rebecca Myers)

About a year ago, I went to the post office in Innsbruck, Austria, and picked up something I’d been working toward for three years: my Slovak passport.

It’s a small, red booklet, but for me it represents freedom, security, and a connection to my family’s history.

I grew up in the United States, but I’ve been living in Europe for over a decade. When I moved abroad at 23 years old, I never imagined I’d stay so long. My plan was to teach English and travel for a year or two, then return home.

But what started as something temporary turned into a life. I’ve lived in Germany, the Netherlands, Italy, and now Austria. Somewhere along the way, Europe began to feel more like home than the U.S.

People often romanticize living abroad, but I’ll be honest - being a non-EU citizen in Europe isn’t easy. Residence permits and forms in foreign languages are a constant source of stress.

In 2021, while living in Berlin, I had to leave the country twice because I couldn’t get a visa for my job. Everything depended on paperwork being approved, and when it wasn’t, I had to pack up and go. It was exhausting and, honestly, a little traumatic.

(source: Rebecca Myers)

That experience stayed with me. It made me realize how fragile life abroad is when your right to stay depends on bureaucracy.

So when the law was passed allowing Slovak citizenship by descent in 2022, I started collecting the necessary documents.

My maternal great-grandparents were born in what is now Slovakia in the 1890s. They emigrated to the U.S. in 1912 and later became American citizens. For most of my life, that was just a small piece of family history, not something I felt personally connected to.

But that changed several years ago when my mom and her sisters reconnected with our relatives still living in Slovakia. They live in Štefanov, a small village north of Bratislava. When I visited for the first time, I didn’t know what to expect. We don’t speak the same language, but they welcomed me as if we’d known each other forever.

That made the idea of Slovak citizenship feel even more meaningful. It wasn’t just about avoiding deportation, it was also about connecting with family.

The application process wasn’t exactly simple. I first applied at the Slovak embassy in Washington DC in March 2023. At the time, I was living in the Netherlands, so my application was later transferred to the consulate in The Hague. By the end of the process, I was living in Austria and completed the final steps in Vienna. It was a very international application for a very international life.

Along the way, I learned a lot, sometimes the hard way. For example, if you can apply through a male ancestor, it’s more straightforward. Because of historical laws, my great-grandmother’s citizenship depended on my great-grandfather’s, so I applied through him instead.

(source: Rebecca Myers)

I also learned that proving your ancestor’s nationality is crucial - birth records alone aren’t enough. Because there are no surviving census records from 1910 in Slovakia, I had to prove my great-grandfather’s nationality through his father’s records. Not knowing that at first delayed my application.

Then there’s the background check – the most time-sensitive part. You only have three months to get it apostilled, translated into Slovak, and submitted. I misunderstood that and had to do it twice, which cost me time and money.

It wasn’t a smooth journey, but I wasn’t alone. There’s a strong online community of Slovak descendants sharing advice and helping each other through the process. Without them, I probably wouldn’t have made it this far.

When my application was approved at the end of 2024, I traveled to Bratislava to take the oath of citizenship. The ceremony was entirely in Slovak, and I understood basically nothing. I was also the only one there applying through descent, so everyone else seemed to know what was going on. Luckily, my cousin came with me and translated everything. When it was my turn, I just said “Sľubujem” and hoped for the best. It worked.

Now, with a Slovak passport in my hand, life in Europe feels a little bit simpler and a lot more secure. As an American who’s been living here for over a decade with no intention of leaving, it means a lot to finally have the same rights as any other EU citizen, not just in Slovakia, but across the entire European Union.

I’m happy in Austria, but it’s reassuring to know that if I ever want to move somewhere else in Europe, I won’t have to go through that process again. I can get on a train and, in a couple of hours, be in a completely different country with a different language, food, and culture, and know that I have the right to be there.

I’m still American, but now with dual citizenship, I feel more connected to where I live and to where my family came from. I still don’t speak Slovak, but I’m looking forward to learning so I can better connect with my family and culture.

For me, this journey started as a practical decision, a way to make living in Europe easier. But it’s also been a way of reconnecting with my roots and coming home, even if it took more than a century to get here.

Read more: https://spectator.sme.sk/opinion/c/i-left-america-it-took-a-slovak-passport-to-feel-at-home-in-europe