I was born and raised in Belgium, with a British father and a Danish mother. For the first almost 32 years of my life, I have held only a Danish passport. My dad tells me it was out of sheer laziness, not wanting to deal with the queues at the British Embassy in Brussels which were always longer than the ones at the Danish Embassy.
This has never, so far, caused me any issues. That is until February 2026, when I find out that all British citizens wanting to travel into the UK, need to do so on a UK passport.
Before I get into the details of my situation, I have a need to state how utterly absurd it is to me, that my French husband can currently get into the United Kingdom far more easily, and far more cheaply than I can. As things currently stand, I will not be granted entry into my own country, without facing massive complications.
I was aware of the new passport rules which had been introduced, but hadn’t given them all that much thought, until a close friend of mine asked me if I would like to come and spend a child-free weekend with her in London. This is one of several trips I would like to take to the UK in the near future. A journey with some girlfriends to Manchester is also on the cards, as well as a trip to my beloved Edinburgh where I lived for a year.
Until this kind invitation, I wasn’t actually convinced I ticked the right boxes to be considered a British citizen: I wasn’t born there, I hadn’t lived there for any meaningful amount of time, and no citizenship or passport applications had ever been filed. After doing some research however, I found that being born between 1 January 1983 and 1 October 2000 to a British parent automatically makes me British, no forms needed.
I looked into what would be required in order to get a passport. Thankfully, there is no question about my Britishness, as this would have complicated matters further. However, that's where the simplicity of this process ends.
Other than the usual passport photo and basic details, I also need to provide documents, as this is my first UK passport. Documents include a full birth certificate, a photocopy of each page of my Danish passport, a birth certificate for each of my parents, as well as my parent’s marriage certificate. All certificates need to be the originals - photocopies won’t do - and will need to come with a translated copy if they aren’t in English.
This puts me in several difficult situations.
The first one is that my parents only have one copy of their certificates, and are therefore (understandably) slightly unwilling to part ways with them.
The second is that my parents and their documents live in Belgium. They therefore need to make their way to Denmark, before I can send them to the UK.
The third is that my sister is in the same situation as I am, but she lives in Norway. Either we need to send our applications at the same time, and hope that His Majesty's Passport Office will accept the documents for both of us at once, or she will need to go through the same process as me, once I’m done with the documents, and hopefully get them sent back.
These complications come on top of the cost associated with the application: £116.50 for the passport, £170 per document for a certified translation, and a £28.64 courier fee. So a minimum cost of £825,14.
Alternatively, I can apply for a “Certificate of Entitlement to the Right of Abode”, which must be linked to my non‑British passport. A certificate which will set me back £589. The application for this certificate also requires me to provide translations of my birth certificate as well as my parents' marriage certificate and my mother’s birth certificate. Resulting in a cost of well over £1000.
“And so what?” you may be thinking. I am fully aware that I am one of the lucky ones. I am not stranded abroad, being prevented from attending classes at school. I haven’t been separated from my parents. I’m not being prevented from attending loved ones’ funerals. And how privileged I am to even be entitled to a British passport.
But still this unnecessary change in entry regulations is a huge nuisance to thousands of dual nationals, and leaves me thinking: do I go through with the application and accept the effort and costs associated with it? Or do I wait out this regulation, as surely someone, somewhere must soon realise how outrageous it is?
Even if I do decide to go through with the process of applying for a passport, I dread going through passport control, needing to explain why my son doesn’t have a British passport. Although I am British, because I wasn’t born in the UK, my son isn’t entitled to British citizenship. But will the border control officer know this, or will it lead to a big discussion? Might we even be denied boarding?
And absurdly, even if my son was entitled to a British passport, by Danish law he wouldn’t be able to get one, as he has already filled up his citizenship quota with his French and Danish citizenships.
It’s a strange feeling to realise that your own heritage has suddenly become a logistical nightmare. Between navigating citizenship laws, hunting down original documents across borders, and facing absurd fees, the joy of visiting friends suddenly almost doesn’t feel worth it anymore. If I do end up getting a British passport - one I have never particularly wanted or needed - it will be the most complicated passport I'll ever hold.
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