Finding pluralism and patriotism in a citizenship ceremony

As we enter Immigrant Heritage Month, I’m reflecting on my recent experience attending a citizenship ceremony in the nation’s capital, and what it says about the America we can be. 

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine invited me to come to their naturalization ceremony in Washington, DC.  I had accompanied them on the journey to apply, and it was a moment to celebrate the excitement of becoming a US citizen - and the relief of many months of worrying whether such a thing was even possible. 

As my friend Nazir and I arrived, an air of nervous tension and tentative excitement was the general mood among the hundred or so people of all ages and nationalities who stepped cautiously into the austere settings of the federal courthouse in Washington, D.C..  

But this cautious mood was no match for the welcoming spirit of Bryant W. Johnson, Records Specialist and our Master of Ceremonies for the day.  “Welcome, welcome, everyone - I’m Bryant Johnson and I’m about to become your American brother.”  In a booming voice brimming with humor and joy, Mr. Johnson guided the group to their seats and called out the instructions for the ceremony, calming nerves and lifting spirits with a welcoming attitude that conveyed both a relaxed air and a ceremonial pomp appropriate to the day.  An Army man himself, Bryant later told me he loved this job and that it felt like another way to serve his country. “We are so glad you’re going to be our new American brothers and sisters,” he repeated again and again. 

A team of women - and I emphasize women, because the courtroom was filled with the portraits of mostly male judges looking down upon the day’s events from the towering walls - arrived from USCIS (US Citizenship and Immigration Services) and the Courts to take their place at the front of the courtroom, where the first hour was spent reviewing paperwork and making sure each of the more than 100 new citizens had their names and correct pronunciation captured.  I was impressed by the professionalism and dedication of these women, knowing all the good effort USCIS has undertaken under its current leadership to rebuild, and to enable so many thousands of new Americans to become citizens. 

A little while later, the Honorable Royce C. Lamberth arrived to officiate the ceremony, which began with a presentation of colors by the US Capitol Police.  Judge Lamberth’s opening remarks were especially stunning, as he shared how meaningful it was for him to be welcoming the new citizens -  such a contrast to the time he was spending in another courtroom for a January 6th trial.   In that moment, the juxtaposition of these two opposite ends of the spectrum of democracy could not have been more striking or poignant. 

To complete the picture, representatives from the League of Women Voters and Daughters of the American Revolution spoke about the importance of civic duty and their efforts to support naturalization.   As organizations with complex histories of both expanding and restricting a widening American electorate, their remarks and efforts to support a racially and ethnically diverse group of Americans was notable.  “We know that you help make America better and we thank you for becoming American citizens,” they shared.

As the ceremony began, the names of each individual and their country of origin was read, as each stood to be marked present.  It was a moment that deeply embodied the American motto of “E pluribus unum” -  out of many, one.  This embodiment of pluralism extended not only to the many nations represented in the room, but the diversity of race, religion, origin, age and other visible markers of identity.  As Nazir pointed out later, of the Nigerians like him in the room, there was also great diversity;  Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba peoples were all among those taking the oath.  It was a healthy reminder that plurality is a feature, asset and challenge of shared national identity not unique to the United States.  

As the judge thanked the new Americans for all they had undertaken to become citizens, and how much they already enriched our nation, heads nodded vigorously, including my own.  In my work with  Welcoming America and as the daughter of a naturalized US citizen, I am regularly reminded of the contributions and patriotic commitment of new Americans that stands in stark contrast to the dangerous vitriol and political rhetoric demonizing immigrants and painting Americans new and longtime alike as ‘un-American’ on the basis of race, religion, origin, and language.  

Perhaps no question has vexed Americans and our politics as much as the question of who deserves to be American.   Standing in that room, I was proud to see American-ness at its most expansive. And I was deeply moved by the welcoming spirit of our hosts.   

And yet - I couldn’t help but also was remember the many aspiring Americans who have yet to naturalize because of the many barriers to doing so, and the vast numbers of those for whom there is no pathway at all, or a tenuous one at best.  I thought of the thousands of Afghan-Americans who are still waiting on Congress’ passage of an Afghan Adjustment Act, and the many millions more Americans in all but their paperwork who are currently under temporary, tenuous or no form of legal protection.   I hoped that those in this room and their children would see access to citizenship for others as reinforcing their own strength and status - rather than a threat or scarce resource that would threaten their privilege as a Americans, the age-old trick that some politicians have used to pit the last generation of immigrants against the newest in order to constrain the electorate in their favor.  I hoped that those in this room would heed the calls to civic duty, take up the responsibility of voting and serving, and continue to remind all of us how precious indeed a democracy is. 

The booming voice of Mr. Johnson interrupted my thoughts.  “Today you began as my brothers and sisters, and now you’ve become my American brothers and sisters.”  

His words took me back to the spirit of what it means to be welcoming, and reminded me of a favorite quote from the Spanish cellist, Pablo Casals, who said, “The love of one's country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?”  It embodies my hope that our patriotism can be wide enough to encircle our American brothers and sisters - new and longtime alike - and wider still to encompass our brothers and sisters everywhere, who yearn, as we all do, for the dignity, rights and responsibilities promised in our founding documents.  

American democracy has always been an experiment in pluralism and a challenge to each of us to be the welcoming nation that sees the inherent potential and dignity in every person, regardless of race, origin, class, gender, or creed.  On that day in Washington, I was reminded that this grand experiment was alive and thriving, and a responsibility and privilege in the hands not of an elite few but we the people.

Congratulations to all those who became US citizens, and especially to my friend Nazir Ahmed Hausawa!