Yesica McKeone raised her hand in June and recited the oath of allegiance alongside thousands of others becoming US citizens. At 32, after spending three decades in America since leaving Michoacán at age two, she finally held official citizenship in her hands. Yet the pride of that moment collided with a harder reality: the country welcoming her felt different than the one she had always known.
"You see around you people constantly being pushed out," McKeone said. "It's just weird times."
As the United States marks 250 years of independence, naturalization ceremonies unfold against a backdrop of aggressive immigration enforcement, stricter citizenship rules, and rising costs. Many new citizens report feeling both pride and profound unease about their choice to become American. The tension captures a larger question facing the nation: who belongs here, and what does America actually want from those seeking to join it?
The naturalization process has grown more difficult in recent months. Since October, applicants have faced a tougher civics examination. The Department of Homeland Security recently proposed steep fee increases, potentially raising the cost to $1,280 online or $1,330 on paper, and eliminating fee waivers that made citizenship accessible to lower-income applicants. The Trump administration has also challenged birthright citizenship, restricted legal immigration pathways, and renewed focus on denaturalization.
Dahni Tsuboi, CEO of Asian Americans Advancing Justice Southern California, which provides citizenship workshops and legal services, described the current moment plainly: "It's survival." At the organization, some people seeking citizenship consultation have since chosen not to proceed, citing fear, cost, and the broader wave of immigration arrests affecting even permanent residents and citizens.
Kwan "Dawn" Tang, 32, born in Hong Kong, pushed through the process after nearly a decade as a permanent resident. Traveling home to San Francisco meant extra airport screenings. He had no voice in elections. After six months of waiting from application to oath, he became a citizen in June. Relief came first, then something harder: a creeping doubt about what he had chosen to join.
"At some point, I just wanted to get it over with and leave," Tang said about the ceremony. "I just wanted to go back and be in my little shell."
The contrast with earlier American history is stark. The Hart-Celler Act of 1965 dismantled restrictive national-origins quotas and opened doors to more diverse immigration. Compared with countries like Qatar and Kuwait, where citizenship remains nearly impossible for immigrants, the United States still maintains a relatively accessible naturalization system. Irene Bloemraad, a political science and sociology professor at the University of British Columbia, framed American citizenship as an enduring offer: "Come here. Spend some time here. Learn a little bit about us, and then you can become one of us."
But Rogers M. Smith, emeritus professor of political science at the University of Pennsylvania, warned that America is entering a period resembling the restrictive 1920s more closely than any other modern era. The signals being sent, he said, prioritize putting America first and discourage newcomers. "We are a country that right now is not being as welcoming as in the past," Smith noted.
Despite the barriers, naturalization ceremonies scheduled for July 4 at Mount Vernon and other historic sites will go forward as part of the America 250 celebration. Tsuboi pointed to the symbolic weight of the moment: every naturalized citizen re-enacts the founding impulse, choosing to build new community after leaving their country of origin. That ideal remains distinctly American, even as current policy questions who deserves to realize it.
McKeone and Tang both plan to mark their citizenship milestones during the Fourth of July. Tang is hosting a citizen-themed party he calls "Dawn of a New Citizen," complete with stars-and-stripes decorations and a trivia game based on civics test questions. The celebration will test his friends' knowledge of the country he just joined. The irony is not lost on him.
Author James Rodriguez: "America is asking immigrants to pay more money, pass harder tests, and endure more scrutiny to join a country that simultaneously questions whether it wants them here at all."
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