Leo lands in Lomé. Koffi arrives in Milan. Same migratory journey. Two realities. As human trajectories become increasingly transnational, one detail remains: the way we describe travellers depends on their origin. One word can elevate, the other can stigmatise.

When geography dictates status

Leo, a young European, arrives in Lomé, Togo. He has a backpack and no long-term plan. He is welcomed as an “expat”, a “citizen of the world”. His academic qualifications are limited (he obtained a 2.4 GPA in Gender Studies), but he proudly displays a LinkedIn Learning certificate in “Business Strategy”. This is enough to secure him a contract as a Business Development Consultant worth $10,000 a month.

He settles in an upscale neighbourhood of Lomé and updates his LinkedIn profile. “I’m here to help Africa reach its full potential.”’ He is admired, applauded and listened to.

Koffi: another journey, another perception

Koffi, on the other hand, is leaving Lomé for Milan, in Italy. Although he doesn’t have a backpack, he does have a doctoral project in Renewable Energy at the University of Milan. He has an invitation letter, a scholarship and the ambition to contribute to Europe’s energy transition.

However, from the moment he arrives at the airport, he receives a cold welcome. Thorough search. Humiliating interrogation. Suspicious looks. “Why are you here?” “Do you have enough money?” ‘Why didn’t you stay to help your country?’ Customs officers sniffed through his belongings as if he were the Colombian druglord Pablo Escobar. He is immediately labelled an “immigrant”.

One journey, two treatments

Leo is seen as an investor. Koffi is seen as an intruder.

Leo is praised for his “boldness”, “fresh perspective” and “added value”. Koffi, on the other hand, must constantly prove his legitimacy, language skills and good faith.

Leo is paid five times more than a local executive for the same position.

Koffi is overqualified but still “doesn’t fit the company culture”.

Meanwhile, Leo is exploring the Niger River and “discovering Africa”. Koffi, on the other hand, must prove his right to be in Europe at every identity check.

Language mirrors systemic biases

Why is Leo an “expat” and Koffi an “immigrant”, despite both having a visa, proper documentation and a professional project?

The word ‘expat‘ evokes privilege, chosen mobility and freedom.

In contrast, the word ‘immigrant‘ carries connotations of intrusion, threat and precariousness.

In short, an expatriate is an explorer who is welcomed with open arms  while an immigrant is seen as an intruder – sometimes tolerated, but often pushed away.

This is not a matter of objectivity. Rather, it is a social construct shaped by colonial history, North-South relations and decades of racialised stigmatisation.

To rebalance the narrative, it is time to question the words used  to describe people who leave, travel and settle elsewhere. The experiences of Leo and Koffi indicate the need  to reconsider commonly used vocabulary or terminology, policies and above all, prejudices.

If Leo can be a “world class citizen”, then so can Koffi. If one person’s experience has value, so does another’s. If we truly want to speak of a shared humanity, this must begin with our usage of language.