Between belonging and becoming

Our move from the Netherlands to Singapore

I woke up this morning to the bells of Hooglandse Kerk ringing loud and clear just outside the window of our temporary apartment in Leiden. We’ve been staying in a friend’s house because, in just a few days, we’ll close the chapter on our own little Dutch home and hand the keys over to its new residents.

And that’s because, in just a couple of weeks, we’ll board a flight at Schiphol Airport and travel twelve hours across continents — landing at Changi Airport in Singapore.

When we moved to the Netherlands eight years ago, we found more than just a place to live. We found a country, a true home, where we could exhale, where belonging wasn’t something we had to fight for every day. The cultural ease, the legal protections, the unremarkable normalcy of living here — it all became part of our daily rhythm.

And now, we’re leaving.

We’re packing up our life and flying east to a lot of possibilities and a little bit of uncertainty in sunny Singapore.

But why?

Stepping into purpose and possibility

I often say to and about Betsy that she is a rare and magical creature. This is true of how she is connected to her family, with her friends, and in our relationship. This magic also manifests in how she shows up in the classroom. Because she is an exceptionally gifted teacher of literature, rhetoric, film and photography, she has been invited back to one of the finest schools in the world - United World College in South East Asia.

As she steps into her new role at UWC SEA, I hope to expand on the work that has long been a core aspect of my calling.

I’ve applied for a PhD program at Nanyang Technological University to research how digital spaces are transforming faith formation, community engagement, and public theology — particularly concerning justice, interfaith cooperation, and our ecological future. It’s a long shot, especially as an older student, but I hold high hopes that those who are considering my application will see a project they’d like to see flourish on their academic landscape.

Legal and emotional complexity

Of course, leaving one beloved home for another doesn’t come without complication.

As a lesbian couple, moving from a country where our marriage is legally recognized into a system where it is not carries emotional weight and logistical puzzles.

Singapore is a multireligious, multicultural society, and its legal frameworks reflect an effort to honor the diverse values held by its many communities — including those shaped by Islamic, Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist traditions. In that context, same-sex marriage is not currently recognized by the state, and that means I cannot enter with a dependant visa. For the first time in many years, we find ourselves in a place where our marriage, while real and enduring, is not visible in official terms.

And yet — Singapore is also changing.

The repeal of Section 377A in 2022 marked a significant shift. Today, Singapore is widely considered one of the safest places in Asia for LGBTQ+ individuals. Public safety, legal stability, and strong anti-discrimination norms in daily life are real and tangible. Queer people live, work, and thrive here — even as questions of formal recognition continue to evolve.

We are also deeply grateful for the way UWC South East Asia, where Betsy has been offered a transformative position, has welcomed us fully as a family — with warmth, integrity, and respect — within the framework of Singaporean law. Their commitment to inclusion, justice, and intercultural understanding mirrors our own.

So we step forward — holding both gratitude and complexity, living in the tension between our own spiritual truth and our shifting legal status. How we will navigate this as we settle remains to be seen, but the adventure of a lifetime awaits!

The Distance That Aches — and Inspires

We’re moving even farther from family — and we feel that.

My daughter still lives in Atlanta — radiant, rooted, building a rich life with a partner we adore. She is living a vibrant life with strength and joy, and watching that unfold has been one of the most quietly sacred gifts of my life.

But she’s not the only one we’re leaving behind in the American Southeast.

Betsy’s parents and siblings, though originally from Philadelphia, are in Florida and North Carolina. That region — with its tangled mix of beauty and contradiction — holds much of our history. It’s where we first fell in love, where we were married. It’s also where we learned what it means to navigate systems that don’t always welcome us.

We’re already imagining Southeast Asian adventures with the kiddo and her guy. We’re also looking forward to sharing the journey with Betsy’s family when they come to visit. And our friends better get their passports spiffed up and start planning for a grand Southeast Asia excursion!

America, from a Distance

And still we watch America, with love and with grief.

As queer folx, as women, as members of complex families, it is hard to witness a country we care for unravel from afar. Rights rolled back. Histories denied. Fear and greed masquerading as policy. We left for a reason — but that doesn’t dull the ache. If anything, it sharpens it.

America is still our homeland, but we’ve learned to hold it loosely. Tenderly. With clear eyes and heavy hearts.

And woven through all of this is a paradox we carry every day: the privilege of being able to leave, and for me, the quiet guilt of doing so. We are acutely aware that many cannot go — whether because of legal status, financial constraint, or deep-rooted ties to place and community. We also know that many people who came to America for a better life are being ripped from their families and homes by the fascists at the helm back home. We wrestle with the tension between building a meaningful life abroad and the haunting sense that we’ve stepped away from the fight. I know we could be showing up in deeper ways to help heal the fractures at home.

This choice doesn’t feel like abandonment — but it doesn’t feel entirely clean, either.

Still, we carry our convictions wherever we go. We continue the work — just in a different form, on different soil - for that day when all of God’s creatures enjoy freedom, dignity, and peace.

Savor, sweat and saunter

From hawker stalls to street markets, from spice-laden broths to late-night dumplings, Singapore is hailed as a culinary crossroads, and I plan to arrive hungry. I can already imagine the first bite of chili crab, the smoky swirl of satay, the endless variations of savory and sweet ahead. I’m looking forward to savoring every dish I encounter.

But the heat? Weeellll, the heat I’m approaching with more caution than excitement.

I’ve grown used to Dutch seasons — long gray drizzles, light scarves in May and the occasional need for sweatshirts in July. Even as a gal from the sultry American South, Singapore’s equatorial humidity will be a shock to the system, one I will try my best to meet with good humor and lots of light, flowy linen. I have accepted that I may never stop sweating, but I am looking forward to embracing my inner Mrs. Roper with lots of breezy togs (with apologies to Three’s Company).

Betsy lived in Singapore for 5 years a few decades ago and she promises that my mind will be blown by the ease of access to places I’ve only read or dreamt about. Bali, Thailand, Vietnam and even New Zealand and Australia will soon be a few hours away rather than on the other side of our big blue marble.

Of course, Singapore is more than a feast of flavors and a hub for travel; it’s a vibrant tapestry of cultures, languages, and histories woven into daily life. Its intellectual landscape is dynamic, shaped by world-class universities, bold research initiatives, and public discourse that bridges East and West. The city-state’s commitment to integrating nature into urban life is visible everywhere — in the lush green corridors, rooftop gardens, and parks that offer quiet sanctuary amid the skyline. And beneath the bustle, a quiet spiritual hum persists: temples, mosques, churches, and meditation halls tucked between high-rises, bearing witness to a deep, living tradition of reverence, ritual, and reflection.

From here to there and beyond, may we go not as collectors of sensations, but as students of wonder—listening, learning, remembering—that we all belong to one another in the great web of kinship.