Well this weekend I ponied up the seven hundred and something dollars and sent in my application.
Being able to vote was one big reason, along with practical issues like freedom to leave the country for more than six months and still return, and making it easier to get social security when I eventually retire.
Ultimately, however, I was thinking about security.
In the current climate, all those complicated fuzzy feelings about my identity start to seem a lot less important than ensuring I can live in the same country as my husband and son, no matter who is in the White House.
And it seems I’m not alone in panicking. Processing times for citizenship have got a lot longer in the last few years, which some blame on a much higher volume of applications since Trump.
In fact, when I checked the wait time for my state two weeks ago, the average processing time was nine months—but since Trump suggested revamping the citizenship requirements last week, it’s gone up to an average of a year.
But hey—at least this means I have time to prep for the citizenship test!
Not that I’m really worried about that. I’ve now lived most of my adult life here in the U.S., so I figured I could probably pass this with flying colors.
In fact, my insights and observations of the U.S. are so on point, I figure I could even write a few of the questions myself! I mean, I’ve spent fifteen-ish years here observing life and generating my own insightful theories on what life in the U! S! A! is all about. Not the usual cliched, fresh-off-the-boat, smug British “observations” about tomaato, or big portion sizes, or guns and whatever.
I’m talking about the kind of details you only notice after years and years of immersion and assimilation.
So in the next few posts, I’m going to share with you my suggestions for questions that should be on the U.S. Citizenship test. Things that will identify people who really get this country. Who share its core values and customs.
Who understand stuff like Cream Cheese.