An American Dream

Last week, our son-in-law became a United States citizen.  There was 58 people present, from 34 countries, who raised their right hand for the oath of citizenship. I found the “roll call” ceremony to be quite moving as each person was asked to stand when their country of origin was named. Each one was applauded, children joined us the joy along with other family members supporting their relative. Watching the group of 58 from so many countries was a resonant moment of affirmation for a traditional core value of this nation. Immigrants coming to join the American experiment in democracy. The presiding official in welcoming them, explained once again all the rights and responsibilities of citizenship, and encouraged them to register to vote and participate in community service as fitting for citizenship. That impressed me. This is the America I love: the land of immigrants from all over the world being part of something larger than ourselves. 

For all these reasons, I’m so disturbed by the current administration efforts to make it more difficult to become a citizen. The current process is already difficult. It requires years and includes serious study and an oral examination. It’s often said that new immigrants know more than most of us about American history and the constitution. Why must it be harder? The Administration announced that the 100 questions currently required to study and know the answers would be expanded to 128. During the oral exam which is a random selection of questions from the required would be increased from 10 to 20, and the correct answer increased from 6 to 12.  When asked why, the only answer given was “it’s too easy.”  Which is to say, we want to make it as hard as possible for someone to become an American citizen. I find that disheartening, to say the least.  My inspiration comes from Emma Lazarus’ poem The Great Colossus on the Statue of Liberty

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”