At 4:00 PM on September 17, 1987, the 200th anniversary of the United States Constitution, I joined the Bells Across America tribute. I was the only one at my workplace to ring a bell in remembrance of church bells ringing in Philadelphia calling people to hear the first public reading of the newly signed Constitution. This was ironic given that as a legal permanent resident alien from New Zealand I was celebrating more than my American-born citizen colleagues.
Even though I was eligible to apply for U.S. citizenship, I wasn’t ready. Ringing a bell was one thing, but taking the Naturalization Oath of Allegiance to the U.S. required me to “absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity” to New Zealand. But by 1998 my perspective had changed.
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After 17 years as a legal permanent resident alien, I was tired of sitting on election sidelines. I wanted to vote. And on January 17th when news broke of President Clinton’s alleged White House sex scandal with a White House intern, I knew I needed to vote. So on June 26th, I applied for citizenship. And my decision was confirmed in December when President Clinton was impeached for perjury and obstruction of justice.
Approval of my naturalization application involved more than living lawfully in the country as the spouse of an American citizen. An immigration officer would interview me and ask questions about my application and background. In addition, I had to show the officer my ability to read, write, and speak basic English and have a knowledge and understanding of U.S. history and government. Thankfully my dwarfism was not an issue.
For the English test, I had to correctly read out loud and write one out of three sentences. No problem. The civics test was more challenging. I studied a list of 100 questions, but at the immigration interview the officer randomly picked ten questions from the list. A passing score was six out of ten. I questioned the officer when he stopped after six questions and wrote 60% on the test paper. But he saw no reason to continue and left me feeling like I fell short of the 100% mark.
September 25, 1999, the day of my naturalization ceremony in Miami, Florida, was emotional and stressful. There were no tears of joy, but rather sobbing in the car when six lanes of traffic came to a standstill for so long that we arrived late to the venue. Robert dropped me near the entrance, but was denied entry after he parked the car. I made it in by the skin of my teeth, but had to sit in a back row unable to see anything. When it was time to take the citizenship oath, applicants stood when their country’s name was called. I waited expectantly, but New Zealand was never mentioned. Instead, I stood on the last call for anyone whose country had not been named! I took the oath of allegiance, but was in no mood to ring any bells.
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