A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the White House

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE WHITE HOUSE

It was 1986 when I became a documented immigrant. By then I had been living “illegally” for a year. I had attended one year of high school and I was quickly learning the difference between what a “burrito” meant in the US what a burrito meant in Mexico.

Because of immigration laws, I couldn’t apply for citizenship right away. But the year I became available to do so, I quickly filled out the application and sent it along with the fee.

I was a senior in college when I received a letter for immigration, asking me to show up to an INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service as it was called back then) office in San Jose, CA. Because I was attending Santa Clara University, the offices were only a short city bus away.

The day before my appointment, I took out my “Citizenship Exam Guide” and studied as much as possible. I had been studying it for many years now so I pretty much knew every answer.

I arrived about 20 minutes before my appointment time and like many other people at the INS office, I waited my turned. It took about two hours before I was called into a private office. I remembered walking in with a pencil in my hand, ready to take the test, which I assumed I was going to do.

The rules state that once you applied for citizenship and you are giving the permission to become one, you still have to take the examination. You need to pass such exam and then, after a short period, you are granted citizenship only to wait a while longer before taking the oath.

Because of the way thing were, I thought I had been called by the INS to take my test. Imagine my surprise and shock when I was told that I had been granted citizenship without taking the exam because I was about to graduate from college and after graduation I was going to go away to get a masters degree. They way they saw it, I was here to stay and I was becoming an exemplary immigrant.

I remember asking if I needed to take the exam. The office told me no. Instead, I had been granted citizenship and all I needed was to check if all names and documents were correct.

I checked the paperwork and I told the officer that everything seemed to be in order. He then asked if, if I knew who the first president of the United States was. I answered, “Abraham Lincoln.”

He looked at me and said, “You’re kidding, right?” I smiled and I said of course. But at that moment, I was shock and nervous and my answer not as a joke. “Who was it?” He asked again. I looked at him and saw, behind him a picture of George Washington. “That guy,” I said pointing at the picture. The officer smile and asked, “And his name is?” By now, I had been able to relax so I answered correctly.

As I signed the last piece of paper, he asked me if I wanted my name to stay as it was or if I wanted to change it. As a new citizen, I had such option. And although I had thought about it for a long time, at that moment, I had no idea what I wanted to do so I said no. “You will get a letter asking to show up for the swearing and the oath within the next 30 days,” he said to me. Then he shook my hand and the whole ordeal was over.

On my way back to the university, I thought about the whole experience and I regretted not changing my name. Chavarría is a last name that doesn’t belong to me but to my step-brothers and sisters. Ironically, since my brothers became citizens and my sisters got married, the only one who has it it’s me. My whole family now carries ANAYA as their last name, which is our grandparents’ last name from my mother’s side of the family.

Anyway, thirty days later after the appointment, I received an official letter asking me to show up in San Jose, CA for the citizenship ceremony. By then, I had already graduated from college and was enjoying my summer before moving on to my next college experience.

I went to the ceremony by myself. I did what I had to do and I picked up my citizenship certificate on the way out. After that day in the summer of 1995 I was no longer a legal resident but a citizen of the United States of America.

Through the years I have taken advantage of my citizenship by voting in every election. I had taken advantage of the opportunities that come with being a citizen and I am very proud of calling myself a member of this country.

One thing, however, that had never appealed to me is a desire to visit Washington, D.C. It isn’t because I don’t like politics or because I don’t like history, or because I don’t like to travel; no it isn’t because of that. It has always been because, as much as I had tried to feel like I belong, I have always felt alienated from being part of this country, part of the Constitution, part of the white house. Yes, at least one president I voted for has been in charge but even he has not really connected with me. Not until now. Not until President Obama set foot in the White House and sat on the presidential chair. Since my becoming a citizen of this country I had never felt a sense of belonging, of pride and joy until President Barack H. Obama made the White House his house.

Never before had I felt a desire to visit Washington. Never before had I desire to step in the room where President Obama first had lunch with the Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. Never before had I felt an urge to shake a president’s hand until now. Never before had I felt a need to see the Constitution of my country the way I feel the need now.

And do you want to know why? Because a funny thing happened on the way to the White House. The new president of the country isn’t a white middle age man, but rather a young, charismatic, intelligent man of color. No, he isn’t Latino but he is by all means a member of the working class. No, he isn’t gay but he is by all means a member of a minority group. No, he isn’t an immigrant but he is by all means a member of an immigrant family. And since his acceptance speech, since I saw him taking office, since I saw him walking the old man and his wife onto the helicopter so President Obama could make sure they were no longer sticking around, since he walked on the parade next to his wife, first lady Michelle Obama, and since I saw him making the sign of “hanging lose” as the parade went by, since then, I had been having the strongest urge to visit Washington, D.C. and savor what the capitol of the nation is all about, along with its history and everything else that finally makes me proud to be a citizen of the USA.

So, yes! A funny thing happened on the way to the White House. That funny thing that happened is pride and joy to be a citizen and to finally see that, at last, one of us, a minority, a person of color, an immigrant family member is my president and the president of the United States. At last, after 12 years, I finally feel and understand the true meaning of becoming a citizen of this country. And for that, I’m finally grateful.