Casting My Vote as a Citizen Abroad

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“We have to vote on Sunday,” my husband told me during dinner last week.

“What?! I’m so out of it, I haven’t been following the candidates at all.” 

“Well, you still have a few days to study them so you can vote wisely,” he said.

It was the first round of the French presidential elections 2022. If one of the candidates received 51% of the votes, he or she would be automatically elected. If not, the second and final round would take place two weeks later, on April 24. 

I’m not one who stays up on politics. That’s why I have a French husband. I also have a son who is obsessed with politics, so between the two of them, I get my nightly news broadcast at the dinner table every night.

Who Do I Vote For?

French elections are so different from my more familiar American electoral system, where we only have two candidates running against each other. It makes it a bit easier to decide on who you will vote for.

My French husband once described it to someone as a “bi-polar” political system. I kindly corrected him and said, “We say ‘bi-partisan.’” 🙂

This year, French President Emmanuel Macron had eleven other candidates running up against him. They ranged from extreme right-wing representatives like Marine Le Pen and Eric Zemmour, to more liberal, left-wing candidates, and even those in the “green party ecologist” party. Every color, every belief, every perspective imaginable, it’s not bi-partisan by any means. It’s left, right, and every shade in between.

I was tempted not to vote. There were other things I wanted and needed to do that day. I went through the same self-talk we all do . . . 

Does it matter? Does my vote really count? Who cares? 

My husband kindly reminded me that I am a French citizen. I hold a French passport, and on the day I held my hand up and swore to respect and represent my “new country,” this was a part of it.

I had a right to vote, and I needed to exercise it. It’s a part of our responsibility as citizens of any country.

And, even if we live abroad, we need to exercise that right. It takes more effort and more intentionality, but it’s possible.

How Do You Register to Vote When Living Abroad?

Whenever you move abroad, you need to go to your country’s consulate in that country and register as citizen living there. When we registered at the French Consulate, they asked us if we wanted to be on the list to vote. Because we said yes, they contacted us and gave us instructions to vote.

For the American elections, it’s a bit different when you live abroad. You don’t vote in-person in your host country. Rather, you have to contact the state in the U.S. where you are registered to vote and get an absentee ballot. 

I don’t know all the ends and outs of the voting system of other countries, but I’m sure they are all different.

In any case, last Sunday, we took the day to drive into the city to the Lycée Français, the official, government-run French high school to cast our vote. 

Entering Another Land

We had to park quite a distance from the school, but the walk was interesting. Little by little, as we approached the lycée, we felt like we were entering another land.

France.

The people we passed by looked different. Everything was different—the way they dressed, the way they walked, the way they acted, the way they talked . . . 

Yes, the way they talked.

French, French everywhere.

Where had we just landed?

As we entered the school gates and passed by the police officers, we were greeted by a loud and joyful “BONJOUR!”

“Bonjour!” we answered in unison. 

Everything in the air felt French. It’s hard to describe.

They directed us to study the board displaying the photos of the twelve presidential candidates, in case we weren’t sure who we planned to vote for. Or, perhaps seeing their facial expressions might cause us to change our minds.

We were also instructed to look at the sign that indicated where we needed to go on campus to vote. 

“For women, they need to follow the sign for their maiden name.”

Uh oh, I thought, we are going to be split up. I’m an “N,” and my husband is an “F.”

I was really hoping we would be together to vote. I honestly couldn’t remember what to do. It had been a long time since I’d done it—years ago in France. Maybe it was a different process in another country.

I was a little nervous as we parted ways.

What Do I Do?

“What do I do?” I asked my husband quickly. “I don’t want to look stupid, like I don’t know what I’m doing as a French citizen.”

He gave me instructions and then went on his way.

“Bonjour,” I said as I entered the office. They asked me for my French identity card or passport, gave me a small blue envelope that said “République Française,” and told me to take as a many ballots as I wanted.

“Take the ballot of the person you’re voting for and then a few more. That’s what the French do,” my husband had instructed me.

That’s what I did. There were twelve little pieces of paper with twelve names on them. I quickly identified the candidate I would vote for. I then passed by the candidates that I did not want to be identified with and randomly grabbed two other papers. I did not know the people, so who knows what they stood for?

I went into the little room and drew the curtain. Inserting the chosen paper into the little blue envelope, I then proceeded to lick the envelope. Oops! Not a good idea with COVID still roaming around. I tucked the pointed edge into the envelope to close it and walked out, after having crumpled up the unused ballots and tossing them into the provided trash can.

Walking out of the little room, I appeared to know what I was doing, until . . . 

I walked up to the man who greeted me and handed him my French identity card and my blue envelope.

“No, no! Don’t give us the envelope! That’s your vote. We don’t want it. You hold on to it!” The official representative standing next to him said.

I laughed. “Oh, that’s right! That’s for me!”

They laughed too. 

Darn! I almost passed the voting test.

The man marked my name off the list. The next lady opened the large, clear, glass case for me to insert my envelope and then closed it with the silver handle. The next lady found my name on her list and asked me to sign. After that, they handed me my identity card and said “au revoir.”

Back to Spain!

I walked out, found my husband, and then we left . . . left the “French land of Spain” and went back to our beloved and familiar host country and culture . . . hola, adios, tapas, sangria, bulls, red and yellow flags . . . 

In two weeks, we will return for another round of voting. This time, there are only two presidential candidates—Emmanuel Macron and Marine Le Pen. The experience won’t feel as surreal, and I’ll know what to do this time around as a French citizen casting her vote abroad.

By the way, if you’re wondering who I voted for, I can’t tell. It’s forbidden in the French culture to share that secret! 🙂 Sometimes, the secret is even kept between a husband and a wife. How’s that for privacy and discretion?

—The Cultural Story-Weaver

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Have you ever had to vote abroad, either by absentee ballot, or some other means? What was that experience like?

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