The Return Of The Native

A British immigrant reluctantly decides to escape the tumult of Trump’s America.

- Rebecca Mead

I have been thinking lately about a letter that I received from President Barack Obama in the fall of 2011. In it, he offered me his congratulations and praised my determination, in terms that were deeply gratifying, if a little over the top—he told me that I “represent the promise of the American Dream.” Of course, it wasn’t a personal letter; the signature at the bottom was a facsimile. It was addressed to me with a salutation that I hadn’t received before: “Dear Fellow American.” That year, I was one of roughly six hundred and ninety thousand people to get this letter, along with Certificates of Naturalization from the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Service confirming that, as the President put it, “this great Nation is now your Nation.” Knowing that I was one of a huge, heterogeneous number of recipients—all of us from different places of origin, all of us making the same commitment—somehow made the letter feel more meaningful still.

The letter, which I keep in a black file box, along with such other precious family documents as birth certificates and hand-drawn Mother’s Day cards, reminded me that I had sworn an oath to the United States, and that I now shared in its privileges and responsibilities. America’s democratic principles and liberties were mine to uphold. The letter also enumerated the country’s core values: “Hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism.” It spoke of the sacrifices made by generations of immigrants who had come to the U.S. in the pursuit of a better future. Obama called it “the price and the promise of citizenship,” and concluded, “We embrace you as a new citizen of our land, and we welcome you to the American family.”