The Journey From Alien to Citizen: Part 1

Well, on June 6th, 2011 I became a US Citizen. My heart and mind have been in a state of flux since that afternoon two days ago. I am pleased that the journey that I started in July of 1996 has culminated with this wonderful and sought after ending. In a way the turmoil I feel I realize is centered around the feeling that I have turned my back on my homeland of Canada. This is a silly reality, as I have dual citizenship and do not ever plan on renouncing my claim to be from either fine country. Maybe this is how mother's feel when they have post-partum depression. Just like those mother's, it is hard to understand the rationale, because you still have the one you birthed or were born into in my case, but yet you now have the ultimate goal, for mother's the real live baby, and for me citizenship in the country I live. The home of the brave. A place where thousands desire to be but cannot attain because of their life circumstances. So being a touch down-trodden seems silly, I'm sure it will wear off and like a moment I had yesterday, I will stay in the place of shouting from the rooftops "I did it! I'm an American". It's OK to be proud of that, and still be a proud Canadian as well.

I believe it is more of a reflective state then a depression anyway, thus the purpose of this blog post. I have been reflecting on my journey from alien to citizen, and how it has changed me. I was talking about it with a close friend yesterday. Indeed, the experiences of life are the greatest teacher, much more than any book. At least for me they are, and for you as well if you pay attention to the details. You may laugh when I say this, but being a registered alien was the best life lesson I have ever been taught. It is what has made my ministry and my attention to justice issues tangible and not just another high horse for a white pastor to trumpet. For me, it is real. I lived it. Now I'm not so naive to think that my immigration is the same as that of someone who is coming from a third-world country who has no promise of a job, food, lodging or even a common language when they arrive on US soil. Greencard or not, that person has it far more difficult than I did. But it has colored my lens because I feel like I can legitimately have empathy for that guy. With one major Grand Canyon sized caveat, I'm a white English speaking male. Yes, I went there. It is an important fact to note. Why? because no matter how bad my journey to citizenship was at its worst moment, I could always just go to the mall, even though I don't like to shop. What?

When you go to the mall, all you see are faces. Let's face it, I don't stand out, check that I do stand out, as a guy who automatically holds power in the room. "Whoa Paul", what do you mean by that? White males have always held the power in this country, and so just by walking out of the door or through a crowded mall I can feel powerful and in many cases get treated better (or more accurately get treated properly)by those who interact with me. So no matter how difficult it was in the early days, I knew it was better for me than for most of the 78 others who became citizens with me on June 6. Whether we like it or not, white males get the best treatment. I hope and desire to change that, not because I hate what I am, but because everyone else deserves the same treatment. This is America after all.

So I chose to learn, observe and reflect. I am glad that the US government treated me the same as everyone else that was seeking immigration/greencard etc. When I came to the US on a student Visa I was only able to work campus jobs or those approved by the INS, just like some of the guys who became my best friends, Jose, Jose, Timothy and Yuri to name a few. We had a camaraderie amongst us that was special. I worked many hours on campus as a janitor, landscaper,and painter. As I worked my way up the "campus job ladder" it was front desk jobs and cafeteria worker. Most of the time I worked with fellow F-1 (student) visa holders. Of course I had plenty of American friends, but everything came easy for them. Churches sponsoring them, families a few hours away and the ability to work wherever and how much they wanted. Just a different world. I wouldn't change a thing though because as inconvenient as it was sometimes, I learned so much from it. Plus I was blessed to inherit a family in 1998 when I married my wife. I have such a respect for those who are immigrants to this country who either have papers, a greencard, or some other form of valid USA entry documents or those who do not. It takes a special make-up to have the guts to leave your comfort zone, even if it isn't comfortable, and come thousands of miles away and start over because of hope.

Every time I see a landscaper, house cleaner, painter, trash worker, or other manual labor job working person who is obviously of a different nationality, I am applauding inside and I want to ask; "what's your story?" Not just because I know it is probably much more amazing than mine, but I feel like I can empathize with them more than any white person probably ever has. I'm so glad God allowed me to have this journey, it has been life changing for me in such a different way than it is for most of the others who became citizens with me. They knew their lives would be changed forever, I would have never guessed it when I pulled out of my parent's driveway in July of 1996 to go to Seminary. Who knew that the best lesson I would be taught would take 15 years to refine to maturity and would be taught using banana pudding, landscape timbers and mop-bucket. The wonder's of God never cease to amaze me.