The author describes attending a Brooklyn naturalization ceremony where a judge urged new citizens to retain their cultural roots while fully embracing American civic life. The warm scene contrasted with recent developments — ICE arrests at citizenship appointments, canceled ceremonies and talk of denaturalization — that have made the civic promise of citizenship feel precarious. Drawing on memories of the author’s mother’s swearing-in during the Obama era, the piece argues that immigrants historically assimilate and enrich the nation and warns against defining belonging by ancestry rather than shared civic commitment.
A Brooklyn Naturalization Ceremony and What It Revealed About Belonging
I attended a friend’s citizenship ceremony. I was astonished at what it revealed.
One breezy morning this summer a close friend of mine stood before a Brooklyn judge and took the oath to become an American citizen. He stood alongside people from Yemen, Togo, Russia and dozens of other countries — a Pakistani who has lived in the United States for decades among them — and pledged allegiance to the Constitution.
The judge administering the oath did more than instruct people to raise their right hand. He delivered an earnest plea about multiculturalism and belonging: keep your languages, food and culture "close to your heart," he urged, and do not "let go." He reassured the new citizens that naturalization does not make them second-class: "You’re not less of a citizen than anyone else, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, you come to me," he said, even invoking his own Italian roots and his adopted son to illustrate how personal histories enrich the republic.
Afterward a small group of us posed for photos outside the Brooklyn courthouse, wandered quiet streets and ended up at a mostly empty bar at 11 a.m., trading dark jokes about how we could no longer call ICE if our newly sworn friend annoyed us. Amid the laughter, the judge’s sermon kept lingering: was he merely pastoral, or was he warning of a very real political threat?
Why the Message Felt Urgent
The warmth of that ceremony felt fragile because my friend pursued citizenship in a charged moment. Reports of ICE arrests at citizenship appointments, the abrupt cancellation of some naturalization ceremonies, and selective removals from lines — actions critics called discriminatory — created a climate of fear. The president’s public attacks on immigrants, talk of denaturalization and tighter immigration controls have made the civic promise of citizenship feel less secure for many.
"Be proud of who you are and pour all of yourself into this nation," the judge told the new citizens.
Memory and Contrast
I thought back to another sunny day 14 years earlier when my mother took the oath. That ceremony was quieter and less politicized; the judge did not preach, but the scene itself spoke volumes. I remember pride at watching people from around the world swear loyalty to this country — a moment that felt like the realization of "E pluribus unum." That was during the Obama era, which combined hard immigration enforcement and record deportations with initiatives such as DACA and a generally more predictable federal approach to legal immigration.
For my mother, the process felt orderly: she applied, followed the rules for years, her application was approved, and both she and the state kept their word. Her life since then — working in nonprofits, hosting dinners that blend cultures, cheering on American sports — is an example of how immigrants contribute to and reshape American life.
When Ancestry Becomes The Argument
More recently, some voices in politics have suggested that Americanness should be judged by ancestry rather than civic commitment. At a July event in California, Vice President J.D. Vance argued that defining America by its founding principles alone is both "over-inclusive and under-inclusive," and invoked ancestral claims as giving some people a stronger entitlement to the nation. That line of argument implies a hierarchy of belonging — one based on bloodlines rather than shared civic allegiance.
There is a grain of truth in the idea that being American is more than reciting a pledge. But the historical pattern shows that immigrants do far more than memorize a test: they participate, they assimilate across generations, and they expand the country’s cultural and civic horizons. My friend and my mother — bilingual, civically engaged, culturally hybrid — are living examples of that dynamism.
What the Ceremony Revealed
The judge’s sermon felt less like politics and more like a reminder: citizenship is supposed to be a democratic compact that welcomes contributions from many backgrounds. When the compact is questioned — whether by policy or rhetoric that elevates ancestry over commitment — the fabric of multicultural democracy is at risk. The ceremony in Brooklyn was, quietly and powerfully, a defense of that compact.
Whatever the future holds, the choice is clear: either we define belonging by civic values and mutual obligation, or we allow ancestral pedigree and exclusivist rhetoric to fracture the promise of "out of many, one." For those taking the oath that morning, the judge’s message was a call to embrace both their origins and their new civic responsibilities.
