'The Netherlands has given me everything – my freedom, my happiness, my job, my family'

‘Hi, come in! How was your trip? Would you like some snacks?' Chemistry teacher Arturo Susarrey Arce gestures to a bowl full of sweets on the table, where a large brightly coloured rug immediately attracts attention. It is a memento from his native Mexico, which he left in 2010 to do his PhD in Twente. After a few years, he met his current husband here – not a scientist, he chuckles. ‘Stop, I would never marry a scientist. When I'm at home, I want to relax.’ Together they bought a sunny house in Schalkhaar, on the outskirts of Deventer, where we are meeting today. We speak English, even though Susarrey Arce would prefer it to be different. Earnestly: ‘I immediately correct my husband when he speaks English to me at home. Reading and understanding Dutch is fine. But if I want to continue to grow in my work, I really need to improve my speaking skills.'

On the days when he is not lecturing, Susarrey Arce conducts research at the intersection of chemistry and nanotechnology at the MESA+ Institute and the TechMed Centre. 'I like to come up with something functional that is useful to society, such as a certain material. Take this table, for example – if you give it a special treatment, the wood may not get dirty or mouldy as quickly, and then the table will last longer.' New research questions come easy to him. 'I often get coffee from the supermarket on campus. It takes fifteen minutes to walk there, and the ideas come naturally along the way.'

For the past six years or so, he has been a shareholder in his start-up Encytos – named after the 'enhanced surfaces' he develops. His latest invention is a special type of glass on which a tumour can be grown from cell material within five days, so that cancer patients no longer have to sit in suspense for weeks about the results of a biopsy. In the coming period, his team will test the material with biopsies from patients. But if his innovation is a success, Susarrey Arce won't be lost to education, he promises. 'We have a CEO from industry, if the company gets bigger, I want to reduce my number of shares. Because it's not about the money for me, my biggest motivation is doing research and working with my students.'

Life smiles on him, but that happiness only came recently, he confesses. 'I've been emotionally unbalanced for a long time. It's only been about eight years since I've been doing better.' He leads the way to the kitchen, and points to a black-and-white photo on the wall, showing a tanned man in swimming trunks looking cheerfully into the camera. ‘That's my grandfather when he was young, I was named after him.’ A picture of Grandma Soledad hangs next to it. ‘I've always considered my grandparents to be my real parents. They raised me.’

'It was a big deal to be gay in Mexico at that time. You didn't belong, because you didn't behave the way you were supposed to'

Susarrey Arce grew up in the coastal paradise of Loreto, Baja California Sur, a village on a peninsula off the west coast of Mexico. 'Until I was twelve years old, I lived with my grandparents, which my parents thought was convenient, because they both worked in a different city. My grandparents lived five minutes from the sea. The first thing I did in the morning was get a breath of fresh air on the beach, among the seagulls and the pelicans, which flew around in large flocks in search of food. I often went fishing, snorkelling and kayaking with my grandfather. At that time we didn't have internet, most of the time I was playing with my dog or with my friends. I often went to the palmar, which is a landscaped palm forest, for me it was like a jungle. Just the sound of those leaves, rustling in the wind, I loved it. But my memories of that place are bittersweet. I was the firstborn, and I think my parents were glad I didn't stay an only child because I was gay. It was a big deal to be gay in Mexico at that time. You didn't belong, because you didn't behave the way you were supposed to. And Loreto was a small town of no more than 10,000 inhabitants, full of prejudice.'

Did your parents know early on that you were gay?

‘I don't think so. Some parents are so blind that they can't see what's happening right in front of them. They kept saying, ‘When are you coming home with a girlfriend?’ Oh, it was so miserable. And believe me, I tried. They just forced me. But there was something else for me, although I didn't really realise that until I hit puberty. But it took me a long time to accept that I was gay, because I too was still stuck in that old way of thinking.'

Were you able to be yourself with your grandparents as a gay teenager?

‘No, not at all. I was afraid they wouldn't accept me if I showed who I really was, and I loved them too much to risk their rejection.’

Susarrey Arce is silent for a moment. 'Whew, this hits hard. It was so tough, all those expectations...'

Are your grandparents still alive?

‘They died a few years ago, but I don't remember exactly when. My brain has closed itself off from that, as it were.'

He digs out a silver rosary from a drawer and lets it slip through his hands. ‘I got it from my grandmother just before she died. When I travel, I take it with me. If something happens to me, I want this close to me.’

When you were twelve, you went back to live with your parents.

'My parents demanded that, but it was difficult to integrate back into the family. I'm seven years older than my brother, and eleven years older than my sister, so I was kind of on my own. I only lived with my parents for about two or three years. It was a very dark period. When I was about fourteen or fifteen years old, I left home. I couldn't hold on any longer.’

Can you tell me why?

‘Bad things happened, let's leave it at that. I told my mother: we can do two things – either we all move, or I leave. Because this life feels like a horror movie. She wanted to stay, so I left. I didn't have any connection with my parents. But I hated that I couldn't help my brother and sister. I couldn't go back to my grandparents, my parents didn't want that. So, I was forced to go out into the world on my own. I asked my grandparents: if I leave, will you support me? Thankfully, they said yes.’

And so, at the age of fifteen, Susarrey Arce moved to La Paz, a four-and-a-half-hour drive from his parental home. He ended up in a student house, where he shared a dormitory with five university students. 'It felt strange, we could barely have a conversation, but everything was better than at home.' Every day, he travelled forty minutes to and from school. 'I did my homework in class, because I couldn't concentrate in the dormitory. During that period, I met a family who more or less adopted me. They knew my situation and offered the chance for me to live with them for a year. They showed me that you can just sit together at the table, without the alpha male dominating the conversation and constantly questioning you. It was a great experience, I'll never forget it.'

'Because my grandfather stood up for me, my father started to change'

In Mexico, high school lasts three years. At the age of seventeen, Susarrey Arce started at the Universidad Autónoma de Nuevo León, in the interior of Mexico, thousands of miles away from his family. He is the first in his family to go to college. ‘My mother was a teacher and later worked her way up to mayor, the first woman in the entire state. My father didn't finish high school and worked as a fisherman. My grandmother only did primary school, my grandfather finished high school. My grandparents would do anything to put food on the table. First, they had an ice cream shop, then they started a phone shop, because when I was growing up, no one in Loreto had a phone at home.'

'My grandfather was a sweet, warm man. Every morning he squeezed fresh orange juice for me, prepared my lunch box and took me to school. When I had to make a piece of art, he bought me paper and paint. My grandfather allowed me to move forward, even though he hadn't finished school himself. He hoped I would become an accountant. He offered to pay for part of my university education, if my father would also contribute financially – and he did. Because my grandfather stood up for me in this way, my father started to change. I think he understood that he had to bend if he wanted to get anything out of my life. During my studies, I heard from others how proud he was of me, but he never expressed that to me. Our relationship is mainly a matter of respect, on an emotional level it remains limited. But for the past eight years or so, he has taken over the role of my grandfather, but for my nephew, who my sister could not take care of. Now he is the caring grandfather who takes his grandson to school. That's great to see.'

How was the scientist in you born?

'Baja is a peninsula, it was at least ten years behind the rest of Mexico. What was happening in the outside world was only something I got from television. But my grandparents had an encyclopaedia series on their shelves. The section on science and technology was the first book I read. There were drawings of chemical formulas in it, I could look at them for hours. Once, around the age of seven, I was on my way to another city with my grandparents. We drove through the desert, I only saw cacti everywhere. I imagined that there would be some kind of nuclear power plant looming in the distance, with smoking chimneys. I thought: what if they build filters in there, to stop all that smoke? That's how my fascination with science began.'

So, it was no coincidence that you chose to study chemistry.

'Well, that was a mistake!' Susarrey Arce bursts out laughing. 'Actually, I wanted to study industrial engineering. I thought: I'll become the quality manager of a production line in the automotive industry, which was booming in Mexico at the time. But the boxes I had to tick were so small that I accidentally ticked industrial chemistry.'

The doubts about his choice of study quickly evaporated. Enthusiastically he tells me: 'My favourite subject at the time was inorganic chemistry, where you don't play with organic molecules, but with atoms. As soon as I started working on quantum mechanics– boom! – that sparked something in me.'

But his student life was not a carefree phase of life. ‘The ghosts of the past kept haunting my mind. I clung to my studies and pushed my problems away. Even later, during my master's and my PhD research, I didn't dare to ask for help. It wasn't until about eight years ago, when my grandparents passed away, that I was able to close that chapter for myself. I was already married, but I felt lonely and empty. I thought: now I have to pull myself together, otherwise I'll lose my way all over again.'

'It was 2 degrees above zero in November, while in Mexico it is 30 degrees. At the time, I regretted that I hadn't studied the Netherlands better'

In 2009, Susarrey Arce obtained his master's degree in Mexico. One thing he knows for sure: his future does not lie in his homeland. ‘Ever since I was a child, I wanted to meet new people and move forward in life, so that my father would see that I had really become someone and would be proud of me. That was also the culture in Mexico: anything from abroad was better, especially if it came from Europe or America. When I went to university, I felt the urge to become someone else more and more strongly. A new Arturo, as it were. I was drowning in the misery of my childhood and I didn't feel at home in my homeland. Mexican culture is warm and inviting, but it's also about pleasing. The attitude is: if you disagree with me or criticise me, you are my enemy. I wanted to escape from that atmosphere.'

While doing an internship in Italy and Canada, he tried in vain for a year to find a PhD position, until he suddenly received four offers - in the United States, in Spain, in Mexico and in the Netherlands. He chose Twente, where the research topic appealed to him the most. 'The goal was to make a small chip that would allow me to start a chemical reaction by means of an electric field.' He arrived in the Netherlands at the beginning of 2010.

What do you remember about your first days here?

'That I crashed my bike a few times in the snow. It was 2 degrees above zero in November, while in Mexico it is 30 degrees. At the time, I regretted that I hadn't studied the Netherlands better, ha ha. Tulips, that was the only thing I knew about the Netherlands.'

Did you feel welcome in Twente?

'People were ready to help me, but more in the sense of: this is what we have to offer, make sure you make use of it. For me, as a Mexican, welcoming someone means approaching them warmly and personally. It felt like the Dutch were indifferent, like: I don't care if you sit next to me, as long as you don't get in my way. And when we talk, we talk about work and nothing else. That was the atmosphere, I adapted to that. Making friends with Dutch people turned out to be very difficult. That's why I decided to stay in a bubble with other international PhD students for the first few years in a student complex.'

'On campus, I constantly encountered cultural differences. Such as someone shouting straight to my face that I was wasting his time. I found that directness crass, until, somewhere in my third year, I realised: oh, this is their way of indicating that they want to be friends. Then everything fell into place. I began to understand that this Dutch directness is not meant to be nasty but is culturally determined. And that I don't have to expect a 'hug' as a greeting, because Dutch colleagues don't express their appreciation physically, like Mexicans, but with a simple 'good morning' or a handshake. Sincerely asking, ‘Hey, how are you?’ is their way of showing that you mean something to them.’

What other cultural differences struck you on campus?

This makes him smile: 'Something typically Dutch that I will never get used to is coffee time. That's a must! You have to have dinner at seven o'clock sharp, whether you're hungry or not. In Mexico, we don't have any fixed patterns. So, I drink my coffee in my own office, whenever I feel like it. If I want to chat or have a bit of fun with my colleagues, I'll find a moment in between.'

What are the signs that a Dutch colleague wants to be friends with you?

‘It's a good sign if they bring you into the conversation during coffee time. If a Dutch person proposes you exercise together, it is not a casual invitation, they really want to make contact. When that happens more frequently, you're on the right track. At some point, which can take years, they will invite you for a drink, because the Dutch feel more socially comfortable with some alcohol involved. Funny, isn't it, why would that be? Mexicans don't need alcohol to go crazy on the dance floor.’

It almost seems as if those direct Dutch people are actually reserved.

'Well, I wouldn't say that, but distance is the key word for the Dutch.'

Are there any rules for topics of conversation?

'Yes, that's a good one as well! The Dutch usually talk about the weather and about sports and politics, and money in particular is an important topic. It's not about deep soul stirrings. Feelings are kept out of everything, it's all facts, schedules, agendas, everything organised, one, two, three, four, this is the protocol. People never cross that red line unless they know each other well. This applies both inside and outside the university.'

'As an international you don't have the luxury of always being able to fall back on your own language'

'Incidentally, this national character also has a beautiful side. Dutch students study in a very structured way, they plan everything. I admire that, if only I had been able to do that earlier!' He adds cautiously: 'Education in Mexico is not as good as here, the quality differs from university to university. When I went to do my PhD in the Netherlands, I had to learn how to make a schedule and set goals. I didn't have those skills.'

What is the contact like between Dutch people and internationals in Twente?

'Internationals mix more, there is a bit more willingness to understand each other. We have to, because as an international you don't have the luxury of always being able to fall back on your own language. At get-togethers, Dutch people usually stand together, as an international, it feels like you are sometimes on the margin. To a certain extent, I understand that, because when I meet a Spanish-speaking colleague, I automatically switch to Spanish. But in those first years, I felt lonely.'

Where did you feel at home?

'I loved the student associations. I've done everything from horseback riding and underwater hockey to running and volleyball.’

Susarrey Arce stands up. ‘Would you like to have a drink? By the way, you can also stay for dinner if you want!'

Since 2020, he has been an assistant professor of chemistry. In 2023, Susarrey Arce was elected Teacher of the Year of the Chemical Science & Engineering programme. Teaching is clearly dear to him. 'At the end of the last academic year, I said to my students: I'll tell you what I want to do in the coming year, and I'd like to know from you how I can improve my lessons. But I don't want to be biased, so you don't have to tell me that in person, just go to my colleague. Do you know what happened? There were twelve students, most of them positive. My colleague said: if you feel that way, just go to Arturo and congratulate him.’ He sighs softly. 'Well, then suddenly they were all in my office. It was very emotional.'

In Mexico, as an assistant professor, he would not be able to live openly with a man, he says. The fact that this is possible in Twente does not mean that he fully celebrates his sexual orientation on campus. 'As a child from a conservative family, I learned to camouflage myself, and I still have that tendency. I don't flaunt my sexual orientation, but if someone asks me about it, I just tell them. I recognise that attitude in colleagues. I only know two or three lecturers and professors who are openly gay.'

Is the university doing enough to promote inclusion?

'Nowadays, the university has all kinds of guidelines regarding inclusion. But is the LGBT community really represented on campus? I don't think so. I don't have any figures for you, but how many lesbians, gays and non-binary people in Twente are assistant professors or professors? The main focus is on a balanced ratio between men and women – which, incidentally, I am in favour of. But few people get promoted who are not straight, while that would at least do something for the inclusion that the university claims to put into practice. That said, I also wouldn't want to get promoted just because I'm gay. It's about what I have to offer the university.'

He perks up. 'I think it's important to say that the Netherlands has given me everything – my freedom, my happiness, my job, my family. That's why it affects me when people tell me they don't want any more internationals here, because I don't want to leave. Without the Netherlands, I wouldn't be who I am today. I am grateful to you, it is because of you that I want to be here, and I want to work hard for you. But I don't want to feel like I'm being left out. Because that's a daily discussion on the news right now.'

'Every day we see on the news that someone has been murdered. But here people are complaining because some leaves have fallen from the neighbour's tree on their yard. Can you understand that?'

While the Dutch government is working to reduce the number of international students, Susarrey Arce is committed to international cooperation. Since 2024, he has been coordinating the collaboration between the University of Twente and the Mexican university Tecnológico de Monterrey. 'That means that I show people the way in Twente: students, researchers and teachers from that area, so that they can flourish here, just like me. I want to teach younger generations how to sell themselves better. Because Mexicans conduct good science, but we have to deal with a lot of prejudices. It breaks my heart to see that people only see Mexico as a country that is all about resorts, drugs and corruption. While we really have something to offer, even though developments in Mexico are slower than here.'

Do you ever have to deal with prejudice personally?

'Not anymore, but as a PhD candidate I wasn't always taken seriously. The idea was: hey a Mexican, that's going to be fun, where's the party? Some colleagues think that I go on holiday when I travel to Mexico, alone or with a delegation. Like I'm sitting there drinking some cocktails. While in reality we are setting up educational and research programmes.'

Has your life here changed your view of Mexico?

‘Not really. But I've lived here for fourteen years now, and when I sometimes see what people are fussing about in this country, I'm flabbergasted. My country is a mess. Mexico is plagued by crime, vandalism, drug trafficking and femicide. Ten years ago, a friend of mine was gunned down on the subway by someone who tried to steal his phone. One of my best friends was caught in a shooting in a supermarket. Every day we see on the news that someone has been murdered. But here people are complaining because some leaves have fallen from the neighbour's tree on their yard. Can you understand that?'

You just got emotional when it came to the political and social pressure on internationals who come here for work or study. That pressure has intensified since the new cabinet.

'Yes, but not so much at the university, where people think it's important to continue internationalisation. The pressure is coming more from the government. I have the feeling that people don't see how much effort internationals put into coming to Twente for work or study. It is so easy to say: we want to get rid of you, because you are taking away our houses and taking away our knowledge. I don't think that's fair, it's a form of propaganda, because knowledge transfer is something we do every day as human beings, and it's pre-eminently something we should fight for at the educational level.

As an international, we come here with all our ambitions, hopes and dreams, and we sacrifice something for that. For some of us, life here removes obstacles that we faced in our homeland. But every day we're here, we miss the closeness of our family. Instead of being afraid of us, the government should be proud that we have chosen the Netherlands as our beacon of knowledge and inspiration. Internationals don't just come here to get something, we bring our brainpower with us. Don't forget that some students stay here for work. Many people who go abroad after work or study come back here because of all the good memories. So, what's the problem?'

What does this threat do to campus life?

'A lot. The UT has a lot of foreign students, what happens to the budget if they have to leave? Who knows, maybe I'll have to look for a new job in a few years?'

What advice would you give to internationals who are considering coming to Twente?

‘Don't be frightened by the current political policy. If you think you can get a good education in Twente, then go for it, because many problems will be solved in the course of time.' Susarrey Arce smiles. 'Maybe I'm too politically correct and see everything too positively. But I've been through so much misery in my life that I want to remain optimistic, even against the odds.'