Brexit and a Global Pandemic: My Journey to Becoming a British Citizen

By Desislava Todorova

Somehow Brexit happened. Four years of negotiations, political havoc and tantrums reached a culmination — one that held us on the edge of our seats, the prospect of a no deal scenario lingering right until the end. For me, 31st December felt less exciting than I ever anticipated. Well, the holidays as a whole did, given I was supposed to spend the first Christmas in five years with my Bulgarian family and my flight was cancelled. But that’s another story! The new year was supposed to bring with it a new order, but for many, it wasn’t a time for celebration.

Despite the sombre mood, on the 21st December I had a personal reason to celebrate - I attended my virtual ceremony for British citizenship which took place in my future mother in-law’s living room, on a wicker laundry basket, surrounded by my in-laws. It wasn’t what I expected for the price of £200 when the regular ceremony in the local registrar office is £90, but I couldn’t have been happier.

Let’s start from the beginning. I couldn’t have picked a worse time to apply for citizenship. The global pandemic caused a huge setback in all bureaucratic procedures and the new measures made me feel that I would never progress to the next step. After applying for my settled status almost two years ago, I had to wait for another 12 months to start the process. Back then, the idea of Brexit seemed like a faint and distant prospect. There was no room for worry yet, I thought.

So I applied. When the scheme was launched, the app where I had to scan my face and documents wasn’t fit for iPhones, so we had to borrow my friend’s phone which in itself was ridiculous. At that point, I thought there shouldn’t be any further hiccups. Boy, was I wrong. Early last year, I initiated the next step of the process. And then the pandemic hit. As hard as a tram… we ended up self-isolating in the countryside, away from all my life and documentation in London. When we were eventually allowed to travel between cities, we went back to our flat, experienced a fresh breath of pre-pandemic reality and spent 6 hours organising 8 years worth of paperwork. Despite the nightmare it was, I felt it was extremely rewarding and I was almost sure I was ready. After realising I was missing a few months worth of bank statements (because this is a minimum when you apply for citizenship) I spent the next weeks on my phone to my old bank trying to get bank statements for an account I had closed years ago and it was an agony. Nothing less than that. The application itself is digital and wasn’t too hard, but it was all those little details leading up to it which made it hell.

Sartre once said L’Enfer c’est les autres - and he couldn’t be more right!

In parallel, I had bought a small, 170 page book, called “Life in the UK” which was supposed to prepare me for my test. Yes, the big test which was to define my suitability for the title British. To be honest, if it wasn’t for the pandemic and the extra time I suddenly had, I wouldn’t have been able to dedicate the amount of time I did to proper study. I learned a lot and laughed a lot - my in-laws who are British all failed the test on multiple occasions and the irony of it wasn’t that it consisted of stale history questions about kings and queens. It was the modern history ones which were almost impossible to guess.

I guess, I’m a better citizen now I know the answers.

Booking a date for the test wasn’t easy either. Why? Because my original date kept being pushed back and the whole next step of my application was on hold. Bear in mind, I couldn’t submit it unless I passed the test with 75%.

So I did and there I was - paying the £1,400 for my citizenship application I wasn’t sure I’d get because this was the message everywhere - paying doesn’t guarantee anything. The next step was the submission of my supporting documentation.

I had to book a biometrics appointment in the Immigration centre in Croydon. On the way there I couldn’t help but wonder how many other young people like me did the same trip - some got a YES for an answer and others didn’t. It felt like the end of a long journey, but I couldn’t be more wrong.

My YES came after a few weeks and I was now due to attend a ceremony which in the context of the pandemic meant a Microsoft Teams call which costed me twice the regular (in person) ceremony. Oh well, I had come this far and I was one step closer to my goal. Or, as my fiancé says - eyes on the goal, eyes on the goal!

So it happened, but amongst the COVID spike in December, the lockdown and Christmas, I managed to receive my certificate proving I was now a British citizen. It felt good, deserved and I am grateful.

When I decided to make this step almost a year beforehand, I never imagined my odyssey will be so long, introspective and challenging. Brexit - in the context of COVID - became a cathartic experience for many and, along with its political impact, it definitely took its toll on many people’s mental well-being. Now my British citizenship has been secured, it feels like I should be acknowledging a new side of myself, albeit with an expensive price tag - almost £2,000. But what happens to the people with granted Settled status who follow behind me? Will they have this privilege if the rules change again? Currently, nothing can be guaranteed. While this may sound apocalyptic, who could have even anticipated Brexit would happen in the first place?