On Friday, Jan. 30, 2026, I raised my right hand inside the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York and took the Oath of Allegiance, officially becoming an American citizen alongside my parents.
Though my address changed several times, one constant remained: the quiet uncertainty that came with being a permanent resident. I was born in São Paulo, Brazil, but the United States has been my home for nearly my entire life. I moved to the U.S. at age 3, first settling in Miami, where I lived until I was 10. My family later moved to Singapore for two years before relocating to New York, where I have lived since I was 12.
For years, my legal status quietly shaped how I navigated daily life, often in ways I did not fully recognize at the time. I carried my green card with me constantly, especially in recent months, out of a fear I did not always know how to put into words.
To most people, I looked and sounded American. Many were surprised to learn I was not a citizen, and that made my status feel heavier. Even though I blended in, I knew my belonging was conditional, dependent on a plastic card I could never afford to forget.
That fear became more pronounced in recent months amid heightened national conversations surrounding immigration enforcement and the role of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Even though I had lived in the U.S. nearly my entire life, I was not truly American in the eyes of the law. I lived with the awareness that, despite appearances, I was still vulnerable in ways my peers were not. It was a fear I carried quietly every day. One rooted not in something I had done, but in what I lacked.
That reality became especially emotional during my naturalization ceremony when I was asked to surrender my green card. Handing it over felt somewhat symbolic, not just the end of a long process, but letting go of years marked by waiting and uncertainty. It was a moment that truly underscored how much this milestone would mean to me and my family.
The ceremony was made even more meaningful because I became a citizen alongside my parents. My brother had become a U.S. citizen earlier, in November, during a ceremony in Ohio, but standing next to my mom and dad as we took the oath together felt special. Immigration is rarely an individual experience; it’s a family journey shaped by shared sacrifices and resilience.
After taking the oath, we shook hands with the judge and received our certificates of naturalization. In that moment, I felt a sense of relief I did not know I had been carrying. For most of my life, I thought of myself as an American. I grew up here, I went to school here and I built my identity here. It was only then that I fully realized I had never legally been an American before, and now I finally was. Something that once felt so distant and uncertain finally became possible.
Becoming an American citizen means finally having a voice in a country that has given me so much. The U.S. has provided me with educational opportunities, community and the chance to pursue my goals. Citizenship allows me to now participate fully in the democratic process and engage in political conversations that shape the country’s future. Conversations that, for so long, I could only observe from the sidelines.
It has also changed how I view my future. Where there were once quiet, invisible barriers, I now see possibilities. Citizenship has given me a greater sense of confidence and belonging, allowing me to imagine paths that once felt out of reach.
In a time heavily marked by political division and difficult conversations surrounding immigration, my experience serves as a reminder of the resilience required to navigate these systems. It’s also a reflection of my utmost gratitude for my parents’ perseverance, for the communities that welcomed me and for the opportunities this country has provided.
Becoming an American citizen did not erase my past. Instead, it added another layer to my identity.
I am Brazilian by birth, shaped by every place I have lived and explored, and now I’m American by choice. That combination continues to define who I am and who I hope to become