It's done
As of yesterday at 3:10PM or thereabouts, I am a united states citizen. God, that sounds a little surreal.
We got to the courthouse at 1:45 or so to find a long line of people waiting to get in, and big signs saying it was for the 2:45 ceremony. Since my letter said 2:15, I was a bit anxious - there was no way we would get in before the appointed time! Crashing the line, we made it in at 2:05 or so, only to realize that I was part of the 2:45 group, and that the letter was intentionally made out to state a time half an hour earlier, to deal with stragglers.
I had to stand in another line to get registered. They took my green card (a moment of involuntary hesitation there), exchanging it for a piece of paper that had a hand-written number (017) and another number (1) circled in red ink. I later learned 017 was my serial number for that ceremony, and that 1 was the line number for where I would have to stand after the ceremony to receive my certificate of naturalization.
Paper in hand I went in and sat down, and waited with 141 others for the ceremony to begin. There were 4 no-shows, which held things up a bit. Social security guys came in and gave us a form to fill so we can hand it in after the ceremony to get our status changed with them. I guess as part of becoming new citizens we were being indoctrinated into the "paradigm of lines", which is almost as american as apple pie.
Not much to tell about the ceremony itself, but I felt a surge of pride and had to hold back the tears as I was repeating the words of the oath after the judge. It was a bit odd to note that most people around me did not seem excited or nervous in any way; I saw no one else in the group of about 20-30 in my close vicinity who was holding back tears, that's for sure. Even more interesting was the fact that at least two or three of them did not repeat the words of the oath, and stayed silent throughout. I found that jarring.
I was also the only one in the whole group of 142 people who bothered to go back in once all was said and done and get pictures next to the flag. Then we walked out and that was that. I'm now one of a group of 300-million people that, when it comes down to it, has created the most successful society thus far in human history. I am proud to be a part of it. Thank you, america, for accepting me.
(back to narrative) The most surreal was yet to come. We went to apply for my passport at the post office three block down the street. I filled in the application, and got to the counter to hand it in. The guy asked for my certificate of naturalization, which I assumed was for the purpose of authenticating my identity. He had to say it six times (and my wife had to shake me) before I realized he wasn't joking - he was taking it away from me to send in with the application.
What? What do you MEAN take it away? I just got it! You can't take it away! It's mine! I... I spent so many years wanting it, and... and now you're taking it away? Will I get it back? (yes) When? (a couple months) You're sure you have to take it? (Yes) But, but... (you're an american now, don't worry about it)
So anyway, we walked out of the post office, and I was rather shell-shocked, and as my wife and I were speaking we realized this was another of those huge cultural gaps that are simply not understood very well; that most americans never, throughout their whole lives, have any document proving their american citizenship (over 85% of americans never get a passport), and they don't even think about it. It seems completely obvious to them. I felt - heck, still do - completely naked. I mean, what if I needed to prove my citizenship? How can ANYONE walk around without some document to prove their citizenship? Doesn't it bother them, you, err, us? Wow. What a change in mindset. It gave me an insight into the whole national ID debate that I simply could never have had before then. It's not about privacy. It's... it's about the concept of proof, which I am so used to where I come from, and which for people who grew up here sounds completely foreign. I mean, it now all makes sense. It's that thing that upsets so many people in other countries, you know, when an american says in this tone that always sounds superior "but I'm an AMERICAN!". It all makes sense now, and I would never, ever have understood it until I left the post office without my certificate, with my green card having been taken away when I got naturalized, having absolutely no proof that I am indeed a citizen, just walking there on the street and having to simply accept, believe, feel confident that I was.
We got to the courthouse at 1:45 or so to find a long line of people waiting to get in, and big signs saying it was for the 2:45 ceremony. Since my letter said 2:15, I was a bit anxious - there was no way we would get in before the appointed time! Crashing the line, we made it in at 2:05 or so, only to realize that I was part of the 2:45 group, and that the letter was intentionally made out to state a time half an hour earlier, to deal with stragglers.
I had to stand in another line to get registered. They took my green card (a moment of involuntary hesitation there), exchanging it for a piece of paper that had a hand-written number (017) and another number (1) circled in red ink. I later learned 017 was my serial number for that ceremony, and that 1 was the line number for where I would have to stand after the ceremony to receive my certificate of naturalization.
Paper in hand I went in and sat down, and waited with 141 others for the ceremony to begin. There were 4 no-shows, which held things up a bit. Social security guys came in and gave us a form to fill so we can hand it in after the ceremony to get our status changed with them. I guess as part of becoming new citizens we were being indoctrinated into the "paradigm of lines", which is almost as american as apple pie.
Not much to tell about the ceremony itself, but I felt a surge of pride and had to hold back the tears as I was repeating the words of the oath after the judge. It was a bit odd to note that most people around me did not seem excited or nervous in any way; I saw no one else in the group of about 20-30 in my close vicinity who was holding back tears, that's for sure. Even more interesting was the fact that at least two or three of them did not repeat the words of the oath, and stayed silent throughout. I found that jarring.
I was also the only one in the whole group of 142 people who bothered to go back in once all was said and done and get pictures next to the flag. Then we walked out and that was that. I'm now one of a group of 300-million people that, when it comes down to it, has created the most successful society thus far in human history. I am proud to be a part of it. Thank you, america, for accepting me.
(back to narrative) The most surreal was yet to come. We went to apply for my passport at the post office three block down the street. I filled in the application, and got to the counter to hand it in. The guy asked for my certificate of naturalization, which I assumed was for the purpose of authenticating my identity. He had to say it six times (and my wife had to shake me) before I realized he wasn't joking - he was taking it away from me to send in with the application.
What? What do you MEAN take it away? I just got it! You can't take it away! It's mine! I... I spent so many years wanting it, and... and now you're taking it away? Will I get it back? (yes) When? (a couple months) You're sure you have to take it? (Yes) But, but... (you're an american now, don't worry about it)
So anyway, we walked out of the post office, and I was rather shell-shocked, and as my wife and I were speaking we realized this was another of those huge cultural gaps that are simply not understood very well; that most americans never, throughout their whole lives, have any document proving their american citizenship (over 85% of americans never get a passport), and they don't even think about it. It seems completely obvious to them. I felt - heck, still do - completely naked. I mean, what if I needed to prove my citizenship? How can ANYONE walk around without some document to prove their citizenship? Doesn't it bother them, you, err, us? Wow. What a change in mindset. It gave me an insight into the whole national ID debate that I simply could never have had before then. It's not about privacy. It's... it's about the concept of proof, which I am so used to where I come from, and which for people who grew up here sounds completely foreign. I mean, it now all makes sense. It's that thing that upsets so many people in other countries, you know, when an american says in this tone that always sounds superior "but I'm an AMERICAN!". It all makes sense now, and I would never, ever have understood it until I left the post office without my certificate, with my green card having been taken away when I got naturalized, having absolutely no proof that I am indeed a citizen, just walking there on the street and having to simply accept, believe, feel confident that I was.
posted by Blinkered at 8:01 AM
4 Comments:
Congratulations! May your dreams continue to flourish.
Thank you Jane! That's very kind of you to say. It somehow still seems unreal, I have to get used to it.
Conratulaions!!!!! I am so excited for you. I have been living the experience vicariously through your wife and, as a history student studying to be a teacher, for me it has been very exciting so I can only imagine how excited you are. Don't be to suprised if I use this entry from you blog to my future student's in a U.S. Government class.
Thank you... and I'd be honored if you do indeed use it.
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