AMERICAN WOMAN

Citizen Nadia, reporting for duty. You guys, are you ready? My vote will change everything. EVERYTHING. Ok, maybe not everything, but it means I can finally put my money where my mouth is and while that isn't everything, it's something huge to me.

So, the oath ceremony... for anyone born in the US, I recommend attending one of these. It was at once everything and nothing I expected, and I think everyone should understand how important American citizenship is to people who aren't born with it. Rick, Eben and Mad came with me, and I'm so glad they did. 

Upon arrival at the ceremony, applicants have to check in with USCIS officers and hand in a questionnaire that is mailed to you ahead of time along with your oath ceremony date. It's a fairly straightforward list of questions - basically, USCIS wants to know if you've done anything since your interview that could affect your citizenship. I answered "no" to everything, including this one: "Have you practiced polygamy, received income from illegal gambling, been a prostitute, procured anyone for prostitution or been involved in any other unlawful commercialized vice, encourage or helped any alien to enter the United States illegally, illicitly trafficked in drugs or marijuana, given any false testimony to obtain immigration benefits, or been a habitual drunkard?" Geez, no. I'm a one-marriage-at-a-time kind of girl, and I'm not in SAMCRO.

The ceremony started with a local school choir singing the Star Spangled Banner. Snarky Nadia was thinking "seriously, this is the most poorly composed piece of music in the history of music, can we PLEASE pick a different song for the national anthem?" but then I looked around me. The auditorium was filled with people whose stories were vastly different from mine. I moved to the US as a small child and grew up here with all the benefits of a middle-class citizen - education, food, safety, medical care, a chance at a fair (or almost-fair) trade of work for pay - but my fellow about-to-become-citizens had different stories, different journeys. Hard journeys. And they wept. This song that so few Americans even know the words to - this song meant the happy end to a long road. This song meant they traded hopelessness for hope, impossibility for possibility. 

Listen, I'm not a naive romantic, I know this country is broken in many, many ways. But we get some things right. We get to have a voice. Our voices are not always heard, and sometimes we get in trouble for using them (EXAMPLE: read this article, folks. A father arrested for asking unscripted questions at a public meeting about Common Core State Standards in Maryland. As if we needed more evidence that Common Core is bad news. But this is the stuff of a separate blog post...). But those moments become a chance for debate and conversation, and that in itself is a privilege. We always, always have the chance to learn more, and we have the right to vote. So many people in that auditorium came from lives where those things just are not possible. So my fellow new citizens wept. And I shut off the voice of snark and let the mood take me. As Americans, we are luckier than most.

The ceremony proceeded with a blessing from a pastor, a speech from USCIS folks about Constitution Week (apparently last week was Constitution week), and a welcome from the mayor of Akron - the Cleveland ceremonies scheduled for that day were already full, so I went Akron -  who was late to this gig because it's super hard to find your way around the city you're the mayor of (!?!). Lateness aside, his speech was actually pretty great. This guy has been mayor of Akron for almost 30 years. He's a cantankerous democrat who has a reputation for ruffling feathers. He complained about the federal government cutting too many taxes, and said the great thing about being American is that he gets to have that opinion and say it out loud. He basically told us we were already a step ahead of most Americans, who will never bother to learn a thing about American history and government, as we had to as applicants. His overall message: get off your asses and get involved. Vote. Rally. March. Volunteer. Teach and learn. Participate in being an American. I liked him.

All smiles after the oath.
(Captain America shirt
was neatly tucked
away under a sweater
during the ceremony.
Superheroes are secret.)

So then we arrived at the oath. We stood, raised our right hands, and swore to uphold the Constitution, to perform armed or civilian service for the United States, to renounce previous national allegiances - the expected things. I gotta say, it was weird as someone so firmly anti-gun to swear to bear arms. Yes, I understand that defending one's country is a far different thing than packing heat just because "I'm 'Merican and I get to." (An important distinction that too many ignore, sadly.) But it was still weird to swear I'd do it.

Then our names were called, and one by one we walked to the stage to receive our naturalization certificates. This is basically the naturalized citizen's new birth certificate. I'll use this to apply for a passport and to register to vote. It's got a photo of me on it that's even worse than my driver's license photo, and I wish I had thought to wear a little lipstick the day it was taken. Ah, well... I can't always use Instagram filters to hide my flaws. It's probably fitting for this particular document to show the real Nadz.

When we left the stage, we were given Citizen Swag. The USCIS provides a packet with a passport application and helpful information about updating your social security records and the voter registration process, as well as a welcome letter from the President. The Daughters of the American Revolution had some blue bloods lined up to hand us a thousand different printings of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, a flag pin, red, white and blue carnations, AND - my favorite item - a little bag with an apple and the story of how the apple is the "fruit of democracy" (Johnny Appleseed!) with the official DAR recipes for pie crust and apple pie. It's probably good pie, I can't imagine the DAR spends time doing much besides baking pies and being better than you (sorry, I can't turn off all the snark...). The DAR recommends that I celebrate my personal citizenship day every year by baking an apple pie. I will inform the bakery where I usually buy pies to keep that in mind.

VOTE! My New Citizen Swag.

The DAR Apple. If you bite it, you
turn into Laura Bush.

So there it is. My journey to American citizenship has come to an end, and my adventures as an American citizen begin. I can't wait to vote for Hillary.

A final note: to Canada, my birthplace, my first home, my summer home, my love. I am overjoyed that you're cool with me having another citizenship. I mean, dual citizenship means two passports - you're helping me achieve my dream of someday becoming James Bond. My sweet Canada, I offer you a song lyric from an Ohio-born band: "You know you have a permanent piece of my medium-sized American heart."

YOU'RE NOT REALLY MARRIED UNLESS YOU BOTH PAY THE GAS BILL

Citizenship Step 3: THE INTERVIEW

So, last week I experienced The Interview. This was the only part of the process for which I had no idea at all what to expect. I've been reading other blogs about other people's citizenship experiences, and of course each case depends on personal history and situation. Questions can focus on documentation, travel history, family, work, social activity - you name it, it's all fair game. I knew that when I started this process, and was prepared to be an open book about anything and everything.

Still, it threw me a little when the officer interviewing me focused very pointedly on seeing utility bills that had both my name and Rick's name on them. Prior to the interview I was notified that I should bring some additional documents related to my marriage. I didn't actually mean to apply based on marriage, as I became a permanent resident long before my wedding, but I am married to a US citizen, and I guess if you indicate that anywhere on the application then it trumps anything else. (Maybe not in all cases, but it did in mine). So, I read the list of documents carefully and came to the interview loaded with evidence that I married because I love my fella, and not for a green card.

But - for anyone who may be getting ready to do this - utility bills are apparently a bigger deal than your marriage license. We pay all bills online, and like most married people we know, some bills are in Rick's name and some are in mine. We have no paper documentation of co-dependent billing. But the list from USCIS noted that I could bring a utility bill OR tax records. So I brought tax records. Still, the officer really wanted utility bills. Read: "OR" MEANS "AND." Bring everything.

After the officer pointed out that "everyone else's file has a lot more in it than yours" (read: LOTSA PAPER MEANS YOU ARE SERIOUS ABOUT BEING AMERICAN), he conceded that 19+ years and the fact that our marriage produced two additional Americans was probably evidence enough that I didn't marry Rick for a green card. He told me I'd soon receive a letter about "the decision" and - if the decision was positive - a date for my oath ceremony.

The decision letter arrived yesterday, and...

...drum roll....

...I'm in!

Well, almost. I'm not official until I take The Oath. My ceremony is in a couple of weeks, giving me just enough time to figure out an appropriate "brand new American" outfit. The notice I received states the following: "The naturalization ceremony is a solemn and meaningful event. Please dress in proper attire to respect the dignity of this event (please, no jeans, shorts or flip flops)."

I can't believe I don't own anything star-spangled.

What do you think of this... too much?

(Kidding. I will be solemn. My closet is full of black and grey, solemn is my dress code.)

You guys. I'm stupidly excited about this. I'll have my wish - that Eben and I will go to the polls together in 2016 to cast our first vote in a presidential election. Exercising rights, kids. Can't wait.