CITIZENSHIP

A first-generation American considers the contentious and timely issue of citizenship.

“Many people complain these days about the divisiveness of political life in the United States, as if it were only a matter of disagreeing over policies and values, when it could be said that we are at odds with one another because we do not live in the same country.” So writes Hernández, the child of a Colombian mother and Cuban father, who recognized early on that citizenship is a matter of luck—in her father’s case, the fact that he fled Cuba just when the U.S., embroiled in the Cold War, began to issue green cards freely to Cuban exiles. Though born in the shadow of the Andes, Hernández writes, her mother became a citizen thanks to the Caribbean. More to the point, in an interesting twist of argument, Hernández proposes that her parents “became citizens of the United States because this country’s empire extended into the Caribbean.” As she writes, citizenship has always been a politicized and racialized issue: Asians were barred from admission from the 1880s to the 1950s, Blacks were denied citizenship until 1868 and Native Americans until 1924, and anyone who held a green card could be deported at any time upon committing the most minor of crimes. Today, the federal government is deporting citizens and noncitizens alike, a project that began 30-odd years ago with a Republican bid to end jus soli, or birthright, citizenship, the Constitution be damned. One judge—a Taiwanese immigrant—has backed President Trump’s policies by arguing that citizenship need not be granted to “invading aliens,” and he’s said to be next in line for a Supreme Court nomination. Preparing for the worst, Hernández, as a “queer Latina,” closes her narrative by applying for and receiving dual Colombian citizenship—just in case.

A fine contribution to the swirling discussion around citizenship, birthright or otherwise.