By Chloe Baker, Senior Opinions Editor
Most people don’t believe me when I tell them I wasn’t born in America. Some people respond to this fact by asking if I was born in Russia (like my heavily Ashkenazi ancestors), or if I was born in Sweden (I credit this response to my blonde hair and blue eyes). People always seem to think too broadly on this matter. They assume I was born and partially raised in some faraway place, yet I was raised just a couple of hours away in our neighbor to the north – Canada.
I was born in Ottawa, Canada, but after my bat mitzvah, my family moved to Fairfax County, Virginia for my mom’s job. The transition from a small private school to a massive public one was overwhelming, and for a long time, Virginia didn’t feel like home. Over time, I adjusted, but during my gap year in Israel, I discovered a deeper sense of belonging. This made it even harder to return to Virginia afterwards because of the fact that I could not stay in Israel due to green card restrictions.
Shortly after arriving reluctantly back in Virginia, my family began the process of filing for our American citizenship. This meant it was time for me to start studying. Though I had taken a civics class in 8th grade and knew the basics of American government, this test was different. It’s not like I could fail it and just receive a bad grade. If I failed the citizenship test, I would have to wait a certain number of days before I could return to the office to take it again. Failing wasn’t an option. I studied and studied, making homemade flashcards and watching mock citizenship interviews online. I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew that regardless of what came my way, I would be more than prepared.
Finally, after arriving at Yeshiva University, I got a call from my mother in the middle of class to let me know that she received a letter in the mail that we had been called to take our test in a couple of weeks. This was great news; I could finally get my American citizenship, which would allow me to travel out of the country again, and if a miracle happened, maybe even go to Israel for winter break or pesach. I was so happy and relieved, I had tears in my eyes.
So, with a couple of weeks left in the fall semester at YU, and just in time for Thanksgiving, I headed back to Virginia. I took the test – which was fairly easy but still intimidating given its importance – and I passed. After passing the test, applicants have to wait a bit longer until their swearing-in ceremony, which officially marks them becoming a citizen. Thank G-d, it didn’t take long for that day to come; just two weeks later, I was sworn in.
The ceremony itself is more symbolic rather than bureaucratic. Everyone sits, lined up in a room that is decorated with the American flag: red, white and blue. A video message by President Joe Biden played on the screen, welcoming and congratulating us on becoming citizens. When an applicants turn is called, they walk across the front of the room, almost like a graduation ceremony, where they receive your certificate and then shake hands with an immigration officer. Before the graduation-walk begins, the officer goes around the room and asks everyone what country they are immigrating from. “Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Colombia, Venezuela, Syria, India and El Salvador” are just some of the responses that I heard.
As people from these different countries began to walk the stage and receive their certificates, they all beamed with a happiness and pride that I have never seen before. I will never forget their faces and enthusiasm. At the end, the national anthem played, and many people began to cry. I, myself, even shed a tear.
A month later, I received my new American passport in the mail just in time for my birthday. This was the perfect gift: I could now travel again. However, upon receiving my passport, and reflecting on the swearing-in ceremony, I realized just how much more gaining American citizenship meant to me.
Having always lived a privileged life in Canada and the U.S., I often struggle to truly grasp how special it is to become a citizen of this country, one that is not facing war or persecution. To me, getting my citizenship was initially important only because it would give me the green light to travel again. However, I came to realize that I was viewing attaining my citizenship in a very selfish light.
Once I actually got my passport and experienced the magic of the swearing-in ceremony, I realized that my American citizenship is worth so much more. Waiting in long lines at the immigration office and speaking to other immigrants, hearing their stories and then seeing them get sworn in changed everything for me. It illuminated just how special this country is.
People come here from all over the world. They dream about America. They take refuge in our precious state that we oftentimes take for granted. They don’t see getting American citizenship as a ticket to travel again. They see it as an entryway into a new, better life for themselves. They see this country as a beacon of hope.
My experience of becoming an American citizen forced me to look inward and helped me truly recognize my privilege. It enabled me to love and appreciate this country more. No matter America’s politics, its internal conflicts, its faults and its shortcomings, we must always remember how blessed we are to live here, and how our passports, although made of mere pieces of paper and plastic, have so much value behind them. We may only use them for travel, but for others, these tiny stamped booklets symbolize more than we could ever imagine.
G-d bless America.