Leaving America Questionnaire #3
Cedric Terrell, photographer and U.S. Marine Veteran, Paris 18th arrondissement
What drives Americans to leave home and settle elsewhere? That question has been on my mind for many years. This series, Leaving America, seeks to uncover the multitude of reasons and lessons learned—beginning with Americans in Paris. The questionnaire that follows will be the same for each guest. Note: This week’s edition is free for all subscribers as a thank you for supporting me and this newsletter in 2024!
He was born in a small town in the American south and has lived in China, El Salvador, and Morocco but it’s in France that U.S. Marine veteran and photographer Cedric Terrell chose to lay down roots. We met a few years ago when he and his partner were spending several months in Paris to test the adults-abroad waters and instantly clicked. What struck me most was their willingness to radically change their environment despite thriving careers in the U.S. Was there a sense of urgency? Cedric gets into it below.
Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
New York City. I moved there from Los Angeles during the pandemic.
Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I moved to Paris from New York in the fall of 2022. At first, I wasn’t sure if it would be a permanent move, but I knew I wanted to give Paris a solid shot. I went through the visa process and invested time and resources into making it work. I tried to give myself the best fighting chance. Living in the center of Paris can be expensive—not as much as in New York, but it’s still a consideration for the long term. Even so, I see myself living in Europe indefinitely. There’s a rhythm to life here that I’m deeply drawn to, and I think it would feel challenging—even abrasive—to return to the faster-paced American lifestyle now. My desire to live abroad started solidifying when I was in the military, working as a diplomat in various countries. I originally joined the military to escape the conservative environment I grew up in, to get out of the South, and to see the world. I wanted an education, but even more than that, I craved a way to break free.
Experiencing different cultures firsthand while serving made me realize I wanted to create a life overseas. There’s a richness in the day-to-day experience abroad that I find fulfilling and very different from life in the U.S. The hustle of American life often feels like a never-ending hamster wheel, leaving little space to truly enjoy the present. That contrast has only deepened my appreciation for the slower, more intentional pace I’ve found here.
Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
There wasn’t exactly one pivotal moment but a certain experience shaped my perspective. While stationed overseas in the military, I saw a way of life outside the U.S. that felt incredibly rich. It struck me that so many other cultures prioritize things like time, close relationships, health, safety, and strong social networks—values that aren’t always central to the American lifestyle. There’s a scene from The Newsroom that comes to mind. When the news anchor, played by Jeff Daniels, is asked by a college student if America is the greatest country in the world, he controversially responds, ‘It’s not anymore.’ This resonated with me, especially as I saw firsthand the qualities that other countries prioritize and cherish.
When I returned to the U.S. around 2010, I knew I’d have to adjust back to life there, but I also knew that one day I’d want to return overseas to create a life with those qualities I admired. I wasn’t sure where, but I knew I’d eventually want to make it happen on my own terms.
What sort of financial consideration did the move require, even as a student initially? Does one need a plump savings account to make this work?
My partner and I are not wealthy. We were comfortable (because of NY pandemic rent) and knew we could build a comfortable life in Paris. The big things we had to consider were housing, daily costs, and my travel. Though I had been networking and connecting with creatives in Paris, I knew I would need more time to get work within France. So because much of my work would still be in the U.S. for a time, I needed to ensure I could financially cover the gaps in what a client might be willing to pay for me to basically commute for projects. Also, I would not be able to take on the more minor or last-minute jobs that pop up. But overall, Paris is less expensive than Los Angeles and New York. We scaled back our expenses initially to ensure we didn’t feel pinched.
The considerable upfront cost I had to consider was a lawyer. I wanted to ensure I could work as a photographer and that the correct visa would be worth the investment.
At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I moved to Paris at 37, and looking back, I think it was the right time. I was at a point in life where it felt like it was ‘now or never.’ The main challenge has been learning French at this age; my brain isn’t quite as flexible as it might have been in my twenties! But even with that, I’m glad I didn’t wait until retirement to make the move. Doing it now allows me to fully experience and adjust to life here while I’m still in an active, exploratory phase of life.
When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
I go back and forth every day on whether it was the ‘right’ decision, but maybe it’s less about right or wrong. My partner and I knew that even if we only stayed a year and it didn’t work out, it would still be an incredible experience—something completely different from our day-to-day lives in New York. And to me, that’s what matters most.
Whether we’re here for two years or twenty, I know I’ll never regret choosing to prioritize my happiness, well-being, and future experiences. Taking this step has allowed me to live the life I genuinely want, and that in itself feels like the right call.
What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
A completely different pace of life. There’s a slower, more intentional rhythm here, especially with café culture—sitting at a café and enjoying a coffee without being rushed out the door, pressured to order something else. It’s a small detail, but it shapes the entire experience of the day.
In cities like New York, there’s a constant hustle. While L.A. is vibrant, its spread-out nature makes it hard to see people as frequently as you’d like. Paris, with its compact size, excellent public transit, and bike-friendly infrastructure, makes it easy to connect with friends or just drop by a favorite spot for a quick coffee.
And then there’s the ease of travel across Europe. Being able to hop to Milan, Barcelona, or beyond offers an incredible variety of cultures and inspiration. As a photographer, that variety lets me work across different markets in a way that feels much more dynamic and creatively stimulating than moving between U.S. states. It’s an element of life here that’s irreplaceable for me.
Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
A lot of it revolves around language and navigating the bureaucracy. Some days, I struggle to get basic French words out, and before I even have a chance to try, someone switches to English. In those moments, I have to decide whether to keep pushing through in French or just let it go in English. It can be frustrating and even intimidating, like those times in a long line where I hesitate, knowing others might overhear me stumble through French. Over time, it’s gotten easier, but there are still days when it feels like an uphill climb.
Then there’s the bureaucracy—things that should be simple but often aren’t, like resolving a bank issue or dealing with a delivery over the phone in French. I’ve learned, for instance, that sometimes I can only withdraw money from my specific bank branch (LCI), not another, which can be inconvenient and a bit baffling.
But there are also those magical moments, especially when the sun lights up the city. On those days, I feel like I have to get outside, walk along the river, sit by the canal, or meet friends. Those moments capture the beauty of Paris and remind me why I chose to live here. I hold onto them, especially during the gray months when Paris isn’t so sunny or picture-perfect, and those memories make all the challenging days worth it.
Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
What I miss most, when it really comes down to it, is my friends and family. I’ve been living away from home for a long time—since I was 19 and joined the Marines. After a while, being away feels like the norm. But no matter how accustomed I’ve become to the distance, the pull of home never fades.
That’s why I make a conscious effort to visit Georgia and Florida to see family more often now than I did when I was living stateside. There’s something about the distance that makes those connections feel even more precious.
What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
It might feel cliché at this point, but I often think about the writings of James Baldwin and his experience as a Black man in France. At some point I realized that, much like him, I wasn’t always hyper-aware of my Blackness here. That’s a stark contrast to my experience in the U.S., where I always feel Black—where my race feels like the first thing people see. In France, I feel I have the opportunity to build something of my own without always having to carry the weight of my race. That sense of freedom feels like a privilege, and I’m deeply grateful for it.
This privilege is not without its challenges. The dynamics of race are ever-present in daily life, and I’m fully aware that many Black and Brown people in Paris and across France are often targeted by a conservative front. I haven’t been directly impacted, but I see it and know it’s part of the reality here.
On a lighter note, I also think about Midnight in Paris—those beautiful, dreamlike moments and the creative inspiration they evoke. It’s a more whimsical take, but it’s part of what fuels me here.
“It’s challenging, even frustrating, as someone who served in the military—fighting for freedom and democracy at home and abroad—to feel like my freedoms as a gay Black man are constantly under threat in my own country.”
Have you ever considered going back?
When we came to Paris, I envisioned it as an indefinite move—a start to a new life, one we’d fully embrace here. At this stage, I wouldn’t say there’s anything compelling me to return to the United States. I don’t often think about going back unless there were to be a situation involving family or friends—like an emergency or something outside of my control—that required my attention. In such a case, I’d go back to manage it. But right now, the political climate in the U.S. gives me pause. It makes me cautious about the possibility of returning, even if the option existed.
It’s challenging, even frustrating, as someone who served in the military—fighting for freedom and democracy at home and abroad—to feel like my freedoms as a gay Black man are constantly under threat in my own country. The approaching second Trump presidency only compounds these concerns, following a campaign that felt overwhelmingly anti-Black, anti-diversity, anti-DEI, anti-queer, anti-LGBTQ+, and, frankly, anti-anyone who isn’t a white Christian man.
While France isn't perfect, especially with its recent and ongoing political struggles, there are certain entrenched values that aren't up for discussion and that creates a certain stability here. As someone from the South, with family deeply rooted in Florida and Georgia, it’s painful to acknowledge that I don’t always feel safe when I visit home. Driving back roads in Georgia to see my grandmother, I often think of Ahmaud Arbery—someone who looked like me, who ran like I do when I’m there. To think I could face violence just for existing, with no sense of justice, is a heavy burden.
For those contemplating leaving the U.S., what do you suggest they consider most about the decision?
Take time to consider the support system you’ll have in your new destination. It’s easy to underestimate how much having a community matters, especially when navigating the challenges of settling into an unfamiliar place. From finding small comforts to tackling the unexpected, the presence of a supportive network can make all the difference. I’m incredibly grateful for the vibrant and welcoming community I’ve found here in Paris. They’ve helped turn what could have been a daunting transition into a fulfilling and enriching experience.
If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you about yourself and the world?
It’s shown me that, at the core, we’re all simply human, doing our best to navigate the ups and downs of daily life. There’s a shared vulnerability in that, which is both humbling and unifying. When I find myself stumbling through French, I remind myself that somewhere out there, others are grappling with English, Italian, or any number of languages. This experience has taught me the importance of giving myself grace. It’s not about being flawless; it’s about showing up, trying, and allowing space for growth. I’ve realized that perfection is less important than progress, and each small step forward is a testament to my resilience. I may not always get it right, but I’m doing it.
Also a Georgia (near Brunswick) transplant to Paris and hope to cross paths with Cedric soon! Striving to honor the memory of Ahmaud Arbery in all that I do.
This is a terrific series. Some of what Cedric said is so much the same for me in Türkiye.