The Naturalized Conclusion

Wed Feb 1, 01:53 PM by

So I was halfway through writing this final piece of the jigsaw¹ when I realized I hated what I’d written. It was a step by step account of the day in October when I was initiated into American citizenship, with absolutely no emotion attached. It would have bored you to tears when really it was anything but a boring day for me. It was, after all, my first step into a new world. One where I would be able to vote for a President. One where I’d travel as an American. One where I’d feel my previous identity had been stripped.

I could tell you I got to the Nob Hill Masonic Center that day and felt a sense of accomplishment. But I didn’t. I was angry. I was there because I could no longer live in peace as a permanent resident. America would no longer just accept me as a happy, law abiding UK citizen. It had to convert me. It was a crusade. Become one of us or we’ll harass you at customs. Become one of us if you want to vote because paying taxes is not enough. Become one of us or we’ll make your girlfriend leave. Become one of us or we’ll make you leave instead.

So when I showed up, handed in my green card and took to my seat, I wasn’t impressed to see I’d been joined by 1200 other hopefuls. I was even less impressed to learn that some of them had showed up three hours in advance for the joy of sitting in the front row. But I wasn’t stupid enough to realize I was being ungrateful. So please, no hate mail.

Of course I speak of the fact that some people do this for the opportunity, but no guarantee, of a better life. America for them is the place where they may, but may not, escape oppression. A place where they can certainly vote and if lucky, it might get counted. Coming from the UK, it made no real difference. I was used to these rights and ideals.

Therefore when the show started and the Star Spangled Banner came on, I stood in silence, hands to my side. But then again, I’ve never liked national anthems so please, again, no hate mail. It got worse when we, the inductees, were asked to read off a paragraph out loud and in unison renounce the laws and ideals of our current, but quickly fading, nationality. Considering the Bill of Rights itself originates in the UK, I was completely flabbergasted. You can understand the stupidity of this request so please, no hate mail. So I stood there, again, tight lipped with my fingers crossed for my fellow Englishmen.

All this in the first ten minutes. It was going to be a long ceremony. I was out of place. There I was, acting like an adolescent struggling to find his way in the world, surrounded by proud individuals who sadly had to share this moment with me. We all sat down and were told to stand up again once our country was called. Be glad. This is a moment of comic relief.

The countries were being called in order from A to Z in an effort to show the continuous melting of the American pot. Afghanis stood up, Albanians rose from their seats, Belgians propped up with glee and so on and so forth. And then we hit China. At which point half the auditorium came to their feet. I cracked a smile. We all did. There’s nothing like the sound of 500 people standing up at the same time. Then we hit Mexico. The other half of the room stood up. Again, hilarity ensued. By the time we got to the United Kingdom, I was surrounded by the waists of my neighbo(u)rs. A wall of bodies around me blocking my view, it didn’t even matter that I was there and maybe that was the point. I didn’t really earn this and I wasn’t really bothered either. If I could do it all over again, I’d stand with Afghanistan just to throw them all off.

Now I was feeling cheery. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. No one knew me. I could enjoy myself right? Well, no, not for long. You Americans have to find a way to bring it back down to greatness of America, don’t you? Because before I could enjoy myself, George W Bush was being announced. And I must admit, some people actually thought he was about to appear on stage. So they were understandably disappointed when the lights dimmed and he came up on screen. He began “My Fellow Americans…” and it hit home. I was now a Bush of sorts.² I think this is where people started to get teary eyed. I felt for them. I wanted to cry for them. He was promising all kinds of opportunities and freedoms that I just wasn’t sure they’d receive. He spoke of his pride for them and what they had entered into. To me it was like being sold on the benefits of a fraternity by the top brother. Enjoy your membership but remember the hierarchy.

Then George left and a music video started. On came the melodies of “Proud to be an American” by Lee Greenwood with images of America to capture the lyrics. Now I don’t watch MTV anymore so I could be wrong but I’m pretty sure this video has never made it onto their station. As a music appreciator, this represented the worst four minutes of my life. Like a vegan in slaughterhouse, I longed for the exit. And worse yet, people around me were now sobbing. I wanted to shake them. I wanted to shout Einstein from the rooftops.³ But I couldn’t. And though I tried to block it out I too was being brainwashed in Zoolander style.

“I’d thank my lucky stars,
to be livin’ here today.
Cause the flag still stands for freedom,
and they can’t take that away.

And I’m proud to be an American,
where at least I know I’m free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.”⁴

The video panned around the country showing various faces waving little flags and fog rolling across hillsides and waves crashing against sandy beaches and eagles soaring to great heights. I slumped in my chair and tried to pull the proverbial clamps off my eyes and plug my ears simultaneously. And just as I thought I could no longer hang on, the lights came on, burning my eyelids. The song was over. In fact the whole thing was over. Government workers were patrolling the aisles with our certificates signifying the end.

I had survived.

And I still felt British. And the person next to me still looked Indian. And the family in front of me still sounded Chinese. And the loner two rows back still grumbled in German. We had certificates and in a month we’d have new passports but little else to show for these three hours.

I made my way gracefully among the many proud families, the petitioners for the poltical parties and the guys trying to make a dollar selling flags, out into the cold, San Francisco breeze. The anger heating my body now subsiding, I saw a sunny day filled with possibility. I was taking my first steps as an American but no one would ever have to know.⁵

¹ Wow, a four piece jigsaw! How hard could that be to complete?
² For the record, I’m not proud to be a Blair either. So please, no hate mail.
³ “Nationalism is an infantile disease. It is the measles of the human race.” – Albert Einstein.
⁴ Source: anysonglyrics
⁵ The End.

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