Individuals at the final naturalization ceremony at USCIS have to show a letter proving that they have permission to be there. As if headed through airport security, Art emptied his pockets, took off his belt, walked through the metal detector, and showed his ID and letter. His green card, which USCIS refers to as an “alien” card, had to be handed over and put into a box. He was funneled into a glass-walled waiting room with the other immigrants, packed together like so many weary travelers.
Art doesn’t remember how many people were naturalized that day, but he guesses 50 or 60, maybe more. Maybe it was just a little fewer than the 83 immigrant students whose mass surgery sparked the Adenoid Riots of 1906. Thirty-six countries were represented. Paperwork had been filled out. Permission granted.
From the waiting room, applicants were ushered into the room where the ceremony would happen. Each seat was prepared with a manila envelope and an American flag. The group sat together and watched a video of Trump and a short documentary called “Faces of America.” Like a congregation in the church of the USA, they faced the same direction and sang God Bless America, and America the Beautiful, or maybe it was The Star-Spangled Banner—Art wasn’t sure, since the songs all sound kind of alike to him. And then, in unison, the newly minted citizens of the United States put their hands over their hearts and recited the Pledge of Allegiance.
I hope they felt the power of belonging rather than the sting of nebulous loss. I hope this choice felt like theirs.
And I hope that if they sang God Bless America, they sang all the verses.
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
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