I have lived long enough, and seen enough stories unfold across borders, to understand that not every love story told abroad is born out of affection. Some are born out of desperation. Some are born out of opportunity. And some—those I call sham love—are born out of a calculated strategy to survive the American immigration maze.
Many people do not like to talk about this openly. In fact, the individuals I personally know who walked this path avoid sharing pictures of their partners, avoid introducing them, and sometimes even hide their very existence. Not because they are shy—far from it. They know that anyone who sees the relationship up close will immediately recognize that it is not love, but a transactional arrangement fashioned to secure legal status in the United States.
I have watched this pattern repeat itself like a never-ending script. It often begins with a tourist visa. Some travelers step off that plane already knowing that they aren’t visiting Disneyland, Mount Rushmore, or Times Square. Their destination is the asylum office. And while not every asylum seeker is dishonest—many genuinely flee persecution—there is an undeniable pattern among those who learn from peers how to stretch the asylum system to their advantage. With asylum applications taking years to process, they gain time, work permits, and, more importantly, the chance to build relationships with American citizens. And it is within these interactions that sham love is born.
I call it sham love, but among the immigrants themselves, another term circulates quietly: “clearance-rack products.” These are individuals—usually Americans—who are willing to marry anyone willing to give them attention, financial support, companionship, or even simple emotional validation. Some are lonely. Some have health issues. Some simply crave to be chosen, even if the other person’s intentions are not rooted in genuine love.
Such marriages thrive in the shadows. You will rarely see wedding photos proudly displayed. You will never hear someone excitedly announce, “Meet my spouse!” Why? Because the moment people see the pairing, they will whisper, “This is a deal, not a marriage.” But the script continues.
After five to ten years—just enough time to secure a green card, citizenship, and stability—the divorce papers quietly appear. Once naturalized, the immigrant no longer needs the marriage. And just like that, the relationship ends. Then comes the next chapter: the return home.
Many people observe a curious trend without understanding its meaning—individuals who left home suddenly reappear after a decade abroad, now searching for a “proper” spouse. They marry in their home country, often choosing someone naïve, someone untouched by the realities of American life. That new partner has no clue that the person standing before them may already have child support obligations, previous relationships, or complicated legal entanglements in the United States.
Worse still, families of such individuals often struggle to secure visit visas. I have heard the stories repeatedly: a parent or sibling denied entry because the consular officer questioned the legitimacy of their American relative’s immigration path. The family becomes collateral damage, forever bearing the consequences of decisions they never made.
If you’ve ever heard someone confess that a consular officer asked them, “How can we prove you are truly visiting an American citizen?” —know this: there is usually a hidden story behind that question. A story that traces back to asylum claims, sham marriages, and immigration shortcuts. This is not gossip. This is a quiet reality that many communities whisper about but rarely confront publicly.
My goal in writing this is not to judge people. Life pushes individuals into corners where choices are no longer black and white. Survival has many faces. But we must be honest about the ripple effects—on families, on communities, on the integrity of immigration systems, and on the innocent partners who walk blindly into lives already burdened by secrets.
For anyone who wants to deeply understand how sham love operates—its hidden mechanics, emotional casualties, and long-term consequences—I explore it further in my novel “Sham Love,” now available on Amazon. It is fiction inspired by real patterns, written to educate, warn, and enlighten. Because behind every immigration success story, there is a truth. And sometimes, that truth is not romance—but a strategy.
Many people do not like to talk about this openly. In fact, the individuals I personally know who walked this path avoid sharing pictures of their partners, avoid introducing them, and sometimes even hide their very existence. Not because they are shy—far from it. They know that anyone who sees the relationship up close will immediately recognize that it is not love, but a transactional arrangement fashioned to secure legal status in the United States.
I have watched this pattern repeat itself like a never-ending script. It often begins with a tourist visa. Some travelers step off that plane already knowing that they aren’t visiting Disneyland, Mount Rushmore, or Times Square. Their destination is the asylum office. And while not every asylum seeker is dishonest—many genuinely flee persecution—there is an undeniable pattern among those who learn from peers how to stretch the asylum system to their advantage. With asylum applications taking years to process, they gain time, work permits, and, more importantly, the chance to build relationships with American citizens. And it is within these interactions that sham love is born.
I call it sham love, but among the immigrants themselves, another term circulates quietly: “clearance-rack products.” These are individuals—usually Americans—who are willing to marry anyone willing to give them attention, financial support, companionship, or even simple emotional validation. Some are lonely. Some have health issues. Some simply crave to be chosen, even if the other person’s intentions are not rooted in genuine love.
Such marriages thrive in the shadows. You will rarely see wedding photos proudly displayed. You will never hear someone excitedly announce, “Meet my spouse!” Why? Because the moment people see the pairing, they will whisper, “This is a deal, not a marriage.” But the script continues.
After five to ten years—just enough time to secure a green card, citizenship, and stability—the divorce papers quietly appear. Once naturalized, the immigrant no longer needs the marriage. And just like that, the relationship ends. Then comes the next chapter: the return home.
Many people observe a curious trend without understanding its meaning—individuals who left home suddenly reappear after a decade abroad, now searching for a “proper” spouse. They marry in their home country, often choosing someone naïve, someone untouched by the realities of American life. That new partner has no clue that the person standing before them may already have child support obligations, previous relationships, or complicated legal entanglements in the United States.
Worse still, families of such individuals often struggle to secure visit visas. I have heard the stories repeatedly: a parent or sibling denied entry because the consular officer questioned the legitimacy of their American relative’s immigration path. The family becomes collateral damage, forever bearing the consequences of decisions they never made.
If you’ve ever heard someone confess that a consular officer asked them, “How can we prove you are truly visiting an American citizen?” —know this: there is usually a hidden story behind that question. A story that traces back to asylum claims, sham marriages, and immigration shortcuts. This is not gossip. This is a quiet reality that many communities whisper about but rarely confront publicly.
My goal in writing this is not to judge people. Life pushes individuals into corners where choices are no longer black and white. Survival has many faces. But we must be honest about the ripple effects—on families, on communities, on the integrity of immigration systems, and on the innocent partners who walk blindly into lives already burdened by secrets.
For anyone who wants to deeply understand how sham love operates—its hidden mechanics, emotional casualties, and long-term consequences—I explore it further in my novel “Sham Love,” now available on Amazon. It is fiction inspired by real patterns, written to educate, warn, and enlighten. Because behind every immigration success story, there is a truth. And sometimes, that truth is not romance—but a strategy.
