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Political Belonging and Cultural Belonging: Immigration Status, Citizenship, and Identity Among Four Immigrant Populations in a Southwestern City Caroline B. Brettell American Behavioral Scientist 2006; 50; 70 DOI: 10.1177/0002764206289655 The online version of this article can be found at: http://abs.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/50/1/70

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Political Belonging and Cultural Belonging

American Behavioral Scientist Volume 50 Number 1 September 2006 70-99 © 2006 Sage Publications 10.1177/0002764206289655 http://abs.sagepub.com hosted at http://online.sagepub.com

Immigration Status, Citizenship, and Identity Among Four Immigrant Populations in a Southwestern City Caroline B. Brettell Southern Methodist University

This article compares identity and citizenship among four immigrant populations in the Dallas–Fort Worth metropolitan area to explore the distinctions that immigrants themselves draw between political and cultural belonging. The article addresses the differences between the rights/responsibilities dimensions of citizenship on one hand, and the identity dimensions of citizenship on the other hand. It demonstrates the significance of immigration status in shaping attitudes toward naturalization, citizenship, and the construction of identity, arguing that immigrants have a bifocal outlook on belonging. Keywords: citizenship; identity; bifocality; immigrant rights; U.S. immigration

“I

t was hard for me to give up my citizenship of India,” said a 52-year-old physician from the state of Maharashtra who had first come to the United States in 1979. Although he admitted that he had little immediate family left in India, he had “a good feeling” about his country of birth: But then I realized that I would never go back. My wife and children could not live there easily. So I came to the conclusion that I was living in the United States, that I should exercise my right to vote and make a difference. This was not a consequence of my feelings because it was hard emotionally—but of realizing that it was the right thing to do.

In expressing his sentiments, this man reminded me of my own, although our paths to American citizenship are somewhat different. I first entered the United States in Author’s Note: This project, Immigrants, Rights and Incorporation in a Suburban Metropolis, was supported by the National Science Foundation (BCS 003938). It began in 2001, but the bulk of the individual interviews were done from 2003 to 2005. Other coprincipal investigators involved with the project are James F. Hollifield, Dennis Cordell, and Manuel Garcia y Griego. Any opinions, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation. The author would particularly like to thank several community leaders associated with the India Association of North Texas for their help in facilitating work in the Indian community. 70 Downloaded from http://abs.sagepub.com at SOUTHERN METHODIST UNIV on October 3, 2008

Brettell / Political and Cultural Belonging 71

1967 on a student visa. I remained in the country until 1974, when I went abroad to do field research. When I returned to the United States in 1976, I was married to an American citizen and promptly filed an application for a green card, which I received in 1977. I remained on that green card, traveling on a Canadian passport when I left the country, until 1993, when I became a naturalized American citizen. I was prompted to take this step when I learned about a new law, originally proposed by a congressman in California, that was very discriminatory to noncitizen spouses of American citizens. This law, in one sense an insidious legacy of the long historical association between marriage and citizenship (Cott, 1998), denies noncitizen spouses the right to serve as executor on a spouse’s estate and the right to the spousal inheritance exemptions that are automatic for citizen spouses. This sounded like a raw deal to me, and although like my Indian friend, it was equally emotional for me to “renounce and abjure” Canada, I did so because it was clearly the rational and “right thing to do.” Bridging the divide between reason and emotion, between citizenship (with the rights and responsibilities that accompany it) and identity, and between political belonging and cultural belonging is something that many first-generation immigrants in the United States face. However, as Gilbertson and Singer (2003) pointed out, we know very little about how and why immigrants acquire formal citizenship through naturalization. Gilbertson and Singer observed that much of the social science literature views citizenship (or naturalization) as a measure of assimilation: This corresponds to a national model of citizenship which sees immigrants as incorporating as citizens of a single nation-state. According to this view, immigrants shed their “traditional” ways of life and integrate into the social, cultural and political life of the receiving society while severing ties to the origin country. (p. 26)

Gilbertson and Singer’s analysis of a single, extended multigenerational family of Dominican immigrants who mostly resided in New York City led them to the conclusion that U.S. citizenship does not necessarily mean permanent settlement or incorporation. In fact, many of the members of this family not only nationalized “defensively” (in response to some of the legal changes of 1996) but also engaged in what these authors came to label “transnational citizenship.” Several other scholars have equally emphasized this transnational perspective on citizenship. They have argued that “the idea of the citizen who spent most of his life or her life in one country and shared a common national identity is losing ground” (Castles & Davidson, 2000, p. vii; see also Goldin, 1999; Ip, Inglis, & Wu, 1997; Nagel & Staeheli, 2004), replaced by a “bifocality of outlooks” (Vertovec, 2004, p. 970) that characterizes migrant lives and shapes their identities. In addition, some scholars have noted that citizenship is about more than identity—it is about rights and responsibilities. Soysal (2000, p. 3) suggested that these two dimensions of citizenship are becoming increasingly “decoupled.” The conceptual distinction between citizenship and nationality represents this decoupling.1 It is clear that the differences


72 American Behavioral Scientist

between political belonging and cultural belonging are embedded in this contrast between citizen and national. In this article, which is based on data from a study of recent immigration into the Dallas–Fort Worth metropolitan area, I explore the issues of political and cultural belonging. I also address the differences that immigrants themselves draw between the rights/responsibilities dimensions of citizenship on one hand and the identity dimensions of citizenship on the other hand. The research used multiple research instruments and both qualitative and quantitative methods. One component involved lengthy face-to-face interviews with immigrants from several different communities. Using multiple points of entry, purposive samples for each population were created based on a host of criteria that reflected broad variations in each community that were identified through preliminary participant observation in the respective communities.2 In addition to basic socioeconomic and demographic questions, respondents were asked about their migration and employment histories, the organizations with which they were involved (social incorporation), their political participation both in the United States and at home, their social networks, and their contacts with their sending country (by telephone, e-mail, and through remittances), as well as some questions about citizenship/naturalization and identity. It is the analysis of responses to these latter questions, for four immigrant populations—Asian Indians, Vietnamese, Salvadorans, and Nigerians—that I present here.

Immigrant Status Trajectories: The Legal Path to Naturalization Drawing on both Census 2000 and Current Population Survey data, researchers at the Urban Institute (Capps, Passell, Perez-Lopez, & Fix, 2003) have estimated that in 2000, from 30% to 32% of the foreign born (10 to 11 million) in the United States were legal aliens. An additional 30% to 32% (10 to 11 million) were naturalized legal permanent residents (LPRs), 7.5% (2.5 million) were refugee arrivals who had become either LPRs or naturalized citizens, from 4% to 5% (1.5 million) were temporary residents, and 25% (8.4 million) were undocumented aliens. Table 1 provides the current immigration status for the Salvadoran, Indian, Vietnamese, and Nigerian respondents in our study. For three of the groups, and not unexpectedly for the Vietnamese in particular, there is a high rate of naturalization. Furthermore, slightly more than a quarter of the Indians hold legal permanent residency, and somewhat higher proportions of Nigerians and Salvadorans are in the same category. Many of the Salvadorans were able to alter their status under the amnesty regulations of the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986. It is not surprising that a number of Indians are here as temporary workers on H-1B visas and a number of Salvadorans are residing and working in the United States without documents, either having entered the country without a visa or overstaying a visa.



Table 1 Current Immigration Status at Time of Interview (in percentages) Immigration Status Born U.S. citizena Naturalized citizen Naturalization pending LPR (Legal permanent resident; green card holder) TPS (Temporary protected status) A-1 (Undocumented worker; illegal entry) A-2 (Undocumented worker; visa overstay) F-1 (Student) F-1 OPT (Optional practical training; extended student visa) H-1B (Temporary worker) H-4 (Immediate family member of H-1B) L-1 (Intracompany transfer of manager) L-2 (Immediate family member of L-1) V-3 (Nonimmigrant dependant visa; derivative of V-1 or V-2)b EAD (Employment authorization document) B-2 (Tourist) Other Missing

Salvadoran (N = 100) 22.0 1.0 29.0

Indian (N = 102)

Nigerian (N = 100)

Vietnamese (N = 100)

0.9 45.1

58.0

25.5

27.0

85.0 2.0 11.0

3.9 1.0

9.0

2.0

14.7 3.9

1.0

25.0 14.0 2.0 1.0

1.0

2.0 2.0

1.0 2.0 2.0 1.0

1.0 2.0

2.0

Source: National Science Foundation project interview data. a. The Indian individual was born in the United States, returned to India as a baby (his father was in the United States as a student), and then returned to the United States as an adult. b. The V-1 and V-2 visas are for spouses and children of legal permanent residents or derivative children of V visa holders to enter the United States as nonimmigrants to join their families.

If one looks at these data by year of entry (see Table 2), it is clear that individuals in three of the populations (Indians, Nigerians, and Vietnamese) are moving toward naturalization when the opportunity arises, taking advantage of the possibility to adjust their status at the appropriate time.3 Salvadorans who have managed to secure a green card have been somewhat less likely to naturalize than their counterparts in other populations. The auspices of immigration—whether immigrants enter legally, illegally, as refugees, seeking political asylum, as students, or on temporary work visas—result



Table 2 Current Immigration Status by Year of Entry Immigrant Group Salvadoran (N = 100) A-1/A-2 TPS LPR NATZ Other/Missing Indian (N = 102) H-1B LPR NATZ Other Nigerian (N = 100) H-1B LPR NATZ Other/Missing Vietnamese (N = 99)b H-1B LPR NATZ Other

Pre-1980

1980 to 1989

1990 to 1999

2000 or Later

0 0 0 3 0

2 1 20 17 1

2 13 6 2 2

12 11 3 1 4

0 2 26 0

0 6 16 0

10 17 5a 2

5 1 0 12

0 3 8 0

0 3 35 1

0 13 14 4

1 8 0 10

0 1 55 1

0 1 13 0

0 9 17 2

0 0 0 0

Source: National Science Foundation project interview data. Note: Numbers in cells are raw numbers. A-1 = undocumented worker/illegal entry; A-2 = undocumented worker/visa overstay; TPS = temporary protected status; LPR = legal permanent resident/green card holder; NATZ = those who said their naturalization application was pending; H-1B = temporary worker. a. Includes an individual who was born in the United States, returned to India as a baby, and then returned to the United States as an adult. b. One respondent had no response recorded.

in different immigration histories for each of these groups. The majority of Vietnamese have entered the United States as refugees. As soon as it is possible, they become LPRs and from there, they generally become naturalized citizens. The Indians have a slightly different trajectory. They have frequently entered the United States as students (whether the pre-1980 cohort or more recent cohorts). Then they move directly to legal permanent residence (the pre-1980 cohort) or to a temporary work permit or some other temporary status, and from this status to the green card and eventually, to naturalization. In a few cases, there are Indians, particularly nurses, who have entered with green cards and then become citizens. There are also some Indians who entered as dependents (generally wives of students or H-1B status workers) who became regularized when their husbands did. The Nigerians have a trajectory somewhat similar to the Indians in that many have entered as students



and then managed to change their immigration status. However, many Nigerians in the United States and in our sample have also taken advantage of the diversity lottery.4 The Salvadorans, a group that has engaged in a range of legalization strategies (Coutin, 1998, 2003a), have mostly entered the United States without documents— 72% of those whom we interviewed. Some of them have managed to gain legal status (helped, as suggested above, by the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986). Others who have entered more recently have been given temporary protected status, a provision of the Immigration Act of 1990 that was extended to individuals from designated countries based on ongoing conflict, natural disaster, and other exceptional circumstances that made returning home unsafe.5

“That Piece of Paper Matters a Lot”: Becoming a U.S. Citizen In 2003, according to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (n.d.-a) data, 463,204 immigrants throughout the United States acquired U.S. citizenship. The leading countries were Mexico (56,093), India (29,790), and the Philippines (29,081). In 2002, when 573,708 immigrants naturalized, the leading countries were Mexico (76,531), Vietnam (36,835), and India (33, 74). Table 3 provides naturalization figures by foreign-born population for the entire United States, for the state of Texas, and nationwide for the five populations that were the focus of our research, including the four that I discuss here. Although the Vietnamese and the Indians are in the top groups naturalizing in recent years, data from the census of 2000 show that nationwide, the naturalization rate for Vietnamese immigrants was 62.8%, whereas the rate for Indians was only 39.6%. These differences, reflected in our research as well, are the result of different historical trajectories of immigration for these two groups, the different auspices (or immigration statuses) under which immigrants from these two groups first arrived in the United States, and different attitudes toward their home societies. The different historical trajectories and auspices of immigration are discussed in the previous section. Variations in attitudes toward the home society are evident in the responses that these informants gave to the probative questions about naturalization and citizenship. In our study, respondents were asked twice about naturalization and citizenship. First they were asked if they retained the citizenship of their country of origin; if they responded yes, they were asked to explain why. Later in the interview, they were asked if they had naturalized; if they responded yes, they were asked to explain why they had decided to do so. It is important to note that the probe was open ended and coded later to capture common patterns of response. Table 4 gives the data for responses to this question by immigrant group. What emerges immediately from these data are the subtle differences in responses that are shaped by the culture and experience. Asian Indians are guided first and


76


434,107 25,148 46,169 5,643 29,555 20,940 3,464

488,088 32,209 81,655 13,702 31,728 18,558 4,645

1995 1,044,689 57,970 254,988 35,478 51,910 33,113 6,248

1996

Source: U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (n.d.-a) data.

All United States Texas Mexicans Salvadorans Vietnamese Indians Nigerians

1994 598,225 39,172 142,569 18,273 36,178 21,206 3,537

1997 463,060 30,862 112,442 12,267 30,185 17,060 1,963

1998 839,944 58,849 207,750 22,991 53,316 30,710 3,125

1999 888,788 55,800 189,705 24,073 55,934 42,198 4,135

2000

Table 3 Persons Naturalized in United States by Country of Birth and in State of Texas

608,205 43,396 103,234 13,663 41,596 34,311 4,355

2001

573,708 42,828 76,531 10,716 36,835 33,774 6,419

2002

463,204 28,671 56,093 8,738 25,995 29,790 5,697

2003


Table 4 Reasons for Naturalizing/Not Naturalizing

Reason for naturalizing (n = those who gave a reason) For right to vote For legal rights/protection To not worry about immigration status To show commitment or pride in United States To facilitate travel To sponsor a relative To qualify for government programs Family life is in United States/Children U.S. citizens Because other family members naturalized Combination of above reasons Other Proportion not naturalized Reason for not naturalizing (n = proportion giving response) Choose not to No time/Did not get around to it Plan to return to country of origin Waiting for dual citizenship Not yet eligible or undocumented Other

Salvadoran

Indian

Nigerian

Vietnamese

n = 10

n = 39

n = 23

n = 68

40.0 20.0 20.0

7.7 5.1 2.6 12.8

26.0

2.9 19.1 4.4 30.9

20.0 n = 78 n = 74 9.4 16.2 2.7 58.1 13.5

8.7 13.0

7.7 7.7 5.1 38.4

30.4

4.4 2.9 1.5 16.2

5.1

4.3

4.4

5.1 2.6 n = 53 n = 53

17.4 n = 45 n = 40

13.2 n = 18 n = 15

9.4 3.8 3.8 3.8 67.9 11.3

10.0 2.5 5.0 10.0 60.0 12.5

13.3

33.3 53.3

Source: National Science Foundation project interview data. Note: Cells contain percentage of those providing an answer to why they had or had not naturalized. One Indian in the sample was born in the United States but returned to India as a baby with his parents.

foremost by family decisions and by the realization that their future is in the United States—that the United States is where they are going to make their life and where their children were born and have grown up. Second, they are civic minded. Thus, taking citizenship to show commitment to or pride in the United States guided the decisions of many of them. Third, sponsoring a relative is clearly more important to them than it is to the other groups. These three reasons account for almost 60% of the responses. One respondent admitted that it was hard to go through with naturalization and that he and his wife did a lot of soul-searching. Finally, the couple realized that their daughter could not be in India—that she would not fit in there and that there would be fewer opportunities for her. Several other Indians mentioned this emotional turmoil. “It is like giving up something. You feel like you are betraying your past,” one female respondent reported. She went on to say that she and her



husband finally made the decision after talking to an accountant about estate planning. “It was going to be better for the kids and that is what motivated us. It gives you advantages and you feel more secure.” This respondent then added that the other reason that they naturalized is because “the U.S. is our adopted homeland and we want to contribute to the community.” But she added that this did not make her any less likely to do what she could for India as well: “If I can help in some way then I will.” This sentiment was reinforced by another respondent: To me it is not unpatriotic to India to do it. You have to be true to where you live. You plant a seed somewhere else and the roots are the same; it just bears fruit in a new place.

The sense of civic responsibility and participatory citizenship was perhaps best expressed by a 56-year-old male respondent who came to the United States in 1977: It is our responsibility to be part of the country and do something for the country. We are taking all the privileges and benefits, why not become a citizen. I did it with no hesitation and have even encouraged my children to go into the military.

Another respondent, a 49-year-old male who arrived in 1980, said that once he was married, he and his wife decided they were going to settle in the United States: My sisters are both in this country. The job outlook was great. Citizenship would be a good thing to do for continued advancement in my employment and besides it would make travel a whole lot easier. Mentally we had decided to stay and I wanted to become an active member of society and that meant being able to vote.

A 61-year-old male respondent who came to the United States in 1969 said that he took citizenship because he loves the United States, its openness, its political system, the way it accepts everyone: “I wanted to become committed to this country. To stay as an LPR is to be neither here nor there. To take citizenship is a statement of commitment and security.” A 60-year-old male respondent who was sponsored by a son and entered the United States with a green card in 2000 also said that he was thinking about naturalizing because it “would offer more security.” But he went on to say that he would probably take citizenship when he could because then he could sponsor his other son to come to the United States. He knew that as a father sponsoring a son, he had a better chance of more rapid success than his other son would have. Another respondent, a 43-year-old female from West Bengal who at the time of the interview had been in the United States for only 3 years, said that her husband wants to become a citizen because he is the only son and has a responsibility for his parents, and if they want to come to the United States, he needs to be able to bring them. She said she does “not want to take it with her heart but her mind says that she should.” Those Asian Indians who are not yet naturalized are in limbo between H-1B visa status and a green card or a green card and the possibility of naturalization. They



keep a mental door open for return. One respondent who entered the United States in 1994 said he wanted to go back one day, although his wife and children do not: I have a bond to my family back in India and that is where I feel like I belong. The majority of male immigrants from India who are here would go back if they had the same economic advantages there that they have here.

Several respondents mentioned that they were waiting for India to pass a dual nationality law.6 Still others described a sort of inertia about moving toward citizenship. For example, a 33-year-old female respondent said she had been meaning to file for U.S. citizenship but “just had not got around to it.” She went to India for a year and failed to fill out a form that would have allowed continuous U.S. residence. When she came back, she had to start the time clock to naturalization all over again. She is now eligible again, but she had a baby and has just put it off. Her husband is a citizen. She would be interested in the dual citizenship. If it is clear that they will not return to India, and it seems so, she will naturalize. Her husband wants her to do it. The laws are changing so fast and he is concerned about her rights. This, she said, is an important issue. The Vietnamese who are not yet U.S. citizens have generally not been in the United States long enough to qualify, whereas those who came in the first wave to exit Vietnam in the 1970s and early 1980s were naturalized as soon as they were eligible. Recent Vietnamese arrivals did not demonstrate the sense of limbo that characterizes more recent Indian arrivals; those who had taken citizenship did not describe a decision-making process that was long and hard. Rather, many of those in the first wave of immigration (those who arrived prior to 1980) offered comments that powerfully indicate an ambiguous and distanced relationship to their communist homeland: “It would be impossible to have Vietnamese citizenship given the nature of the regime there,” said one respondent, whereas another noted, “The communist government in Vietnam may consider us to be citizens, but all they are interested in is money— getting us to send money back.” A third responded, “The government of Vietnam still considers me a citizen, but I don’t acknowledge the legitimacy of the communists.” The significance of the experience with communism influencing naturalization decisions is further reinforced by the fact that almost one third of Vietnamese respondents said they took citizenship to show commitment to or pride in the United States. Furthermore, slightly less than one fifth of them stressed legal rights and protection—more so than the other groups. Although not as high a proportion as the Indians, 16% cited the fact that their future was in the United States. But this is the case because returning to Vietnam is just not a viable option and for some, there is no immediate family left there to draw them back. As one respondent, a 61-year-old male who arrived in 1975, said, “The U.S. is my second home/country. This is the place where we have come to live, to improve our lives, and gain freedom. So it is important to formally join this society and become a citizen.”



Several respondents used the language of equal opportunity to describe their decision to naturalize. In my view, this too is a response shaped by the regime they have left behind. One individual, a 23-year-old male who arrived in 1995, said, “I wanted to be naturalized in order to be a part of a country that gives an equal opportunity to everybody. I honor that opportunity and try to make the best out of it as I can.” Another, a 41-year-old female who arrived in 1977, said, “I was the first one in my family to get a degree in America and I am grateful I had that opportunity. I honor the variety of privileges and learning experiences America had to offer.” Those Vietnamese who were eligible to naturalize and had not yet done so often cited linguistic reasons. For example, one respondent, a 57-year-old woman who arrived in 1992, said that she had made it to the oral examination but failed. She was told to wait for a period of time and the Immigration and Naturalization Service would call her for another exam. She waited for months and heard nothing. Then suddenly she received notification that she would have to reapply. At the time of the interview, she expressed uncertainty about what to do. Although the number of Nigerian responses is much smaller, they do suggest somewhat different concerns. To facilitate travel, to gain the right to vote and, hence, influence certain policies so as not to worry about their immigration status were the reasons highest in their minds, together constituting almost two thirds of responses. In my view, these responses are shaped by their heightened sense of political engagement, as well as by the racial issues that they confront both in the United States and abroad. One interviewee, a 26-year-old male who arrived in the United States in 1995, told a story about being denied a visa in 2001 to visit a friend in Milan after having purchased an airline ticket. He promptly filed the papers for citizenship because as an American, he would not need a visa. Another respondent, a 42-year-old male who came to the United States in 1989, put it this way: You get leeway when you’re a citizen. Anywhere you go, there’s a right hand side and a left hand side—Americans join one line and get easier treatment and everyone else joins the other line and it’s not so easy for them.

Another, a 46-year-old male who arrived in 1990, replied, “It’s easier to travel because you don’t need a visa for most places. Many countries discriminate against you because of where you’re from but if you have an American passport, they don’t discriminate against you.” Another, a 48-year-old male who arrived in the United States for the first time in 1983, offered a different perspective: “By becoming citizen, I obtained more rights and I knew that I would be living here for a long time. Nigeria is in chaos, it will take a long time to turn the situation around.” Although several Nigerians cited the opportunities that the United States offered, they also qualified this observation by saying that gaining opportunities was often harder than they had imagined before leaving their country. Their qualification of America as the “land of opportunity” is indicative of their experiences with racism.



When Nigerians indicated they had not naturalized, it was for several reasons: they had not been in the United States long enough, they planned to return to Nigeria, they had not found the time to file the application, or they considered the United States as a place to work but they did not need to be a citizen to work here, only a legal resident. In a few rare instances, and unique to this group across the five studied, people expressed an interest in running for political office in Nigeria—this made retaining their Nigerian citizenship imperative. But on the other hand, among those who had naturalized, the right to vote was one of the most important motivating factors—something quite unique to Nigerian responses by comparison with Indians and Vietnamese, and something meriting further study in relation to the relative politicization of different immigrant populations. It is not surprising that many Salvadorans are simply ineligible for citizenship because they are either undocumented or in the United States under temporary protected status. Of Salvadoran respondents, 16% said that they simply had no time or had just not got around to applying for citizenship. Many Salvadorans did indicate, however, that they would like to become a citizen someday because this is where they want to make their life. Some even suggested that the easiest way to become a citizen is to marry one. Perhaps most intriguing are the responses given by Salvadorans that indicate issues about security, as well as concerns about the complexity, cost, and length of the process. Thus, one respondent indicated that although he plans to become a citizen eventually, “It is difficult and involves a thorough check of one’s past records.” He went on to say that he had considered joining the army several years earlier, had completed the paperwork, but then had not joined: “I was busy womanizing at the time,” he commented. For many Salvadorans, a big obstacle was their lack of English-language proficiency, as well as the work that is involved to pass the citizenship test. Several Salvadorans indicated that they had their green cards and that was enough for them. Having the right to vote was not that important to those who were eligible but had not moved forward with citizenship. Summing all the negatives up, one man observed, “It takes too long, too much time and effort. It’s not worth it, and the system is getting worse because of the terrorism. Maybe I’ll try again in the future but not now.” Despite some of these subtle variations, what the responses across all the groups indicate is a very pragmatic attitude toward naturalization. Respondents in all four groups mentioned the facility of travel or not having to hassle about documents and immigration status as reasons to naturalize. One Vietnamese respondent referred to it as a security blanket, whereas others talked about freedom of movement—not having to carry papers all the time. A Salvadoran woman said she became a citizen “for safety. So that I do not have to worry about immigration problems, and to help my people out of El Salvador.” A respondent who is a “twice-migrant,” having been born in Zambia to Indian parents, said that there was no reason to go back to Zambia or India. His parents are in London, and with a Zambian passport, he had to have a visa to go to visit them and it was scrutinized each time: “The last time I went with a U.S.



passport and it was a breeze. That piece of paper [the U.S. passport] matters a lot.” Some cited specific work opportunities that would be available to them only if they were U.S. citizens. Thus, two Vietnamese respondents said that they took citizenship so that they would be eligible for government jobs. One Salvadoran respondent noted that only citizens can work for the postal service and now citizenship is required for the good jobs at airports. “The laws are hard on immigrants and it’s easier for citizens.” A 65-year-old male who arrived in the United States from India in 1967 pursued higher education in geology and then landed a job with Conoco and acquired a green card. He said that he took citizenship as soon as he was eligible because “you could not have sensitive positions in management unless you were a U.S. citizen. I was naturalized in San Antonio. It was an occupational choice.” To set the responses from these face-to-face interviews into a broader context, we asked one question about citizenship in a random telephone survey of both nativeborn and foreign-born residents of the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex conducted in the fall of 2004. The survey sample included 500 individuals born outside the United States, 491 born in the United States, and 9 born in the Virgin Islands. Included in the sample were 36 individuals born in India, 18 born in China (excluding Hong Kong and Taiwan), 17 born in El Salvador, 11 born in Pakistan, 10 born in Vietnam, and 1 born in Nigeria. The foreign-born respondents also included 318 born in Mexico. When asked about their year of arrival, 5% of respondents said they first came to the United States to live or work before 1970; 9.2% arrived between 1970 and 1979; 20.4% arrived between 1980 and 1989; 42.4% arrived between 1990 and 1999; 19.8% arrived after 2000; and 3.2% refused to say or said they did not know. Of the foreign born, 74.8% said they were not citizens, and 25.2% said they were citizens. Approximately 50% of those who were not citizens had U.S. residence or a green card. Those who were citizens were asked the following question: There are many reasons that people choose to become citizens. For each of the following, please tell me if you believe that it is a major reason, a minor reason, no reason at all or you do not know.

Table 5 presents the data from this survey question. There is nothing particularly surprising in these results; they do, to some extent, confirm the trends identified in the face-to-face interviews, although here the majority of foreign-born respondents were Mexican. Perhaps most striking is the fact that although making it easier to bring family members to the United States is important, it is certainly not as important a reason for pursing naturalization as gaining access to rights and showing commitment to the United States and pride in being an American. Conversely, more than half the respondents claimed that qualifying for U.S. programs was not a reason at all to become a citizen. The respondents who were not U.S. citizens at the time of the survey were asked to give the main reason that best describes why they had not become a citizen. Table 6



Table 5 Reasons for Naturalization (in percentages; N = 127)

To get the right to vote To have better legal rights and protection in the United States To show commitment and pride in being American To not worry about immigration status To make it easier to travel in and out of the United States To qualify for government programs such as Medicaid or food stamps To make it easier to bring family members to the United States

Major Reason

Minor Reason

Not a Reason at All

Refused to Answer

Missing Response/ Do Not Know

69.3 77.2

15.7 11.0

11.18 8.7

2.4 1.6

0.8 1.6

72.4

13.4

7.9

2.4

3.9

65.4

15.0

15.7

2.4

1.6

67.7

17.3

11.8

1.6

1.6

23.6

18.1

52.8

1.6

3.9

39.4

29.1

28.3

1.6

1.6

Source: Dallas–Fort Worth Native- and Foreign-Born Telephone Survey.

Table 6 Main Reason Respondent Had Not Become a Citizen (N = 375)

I am not eligible I have not had time to apply for U.S. citizenship I prefer to remain a citizen of my country of birth I plan to return to my country of birth I have never thought about it Other/Missing Do not know Refused

n

Percentage

128 52 21 21 80 35 27 11

34.1 13.9 5.6 5.6 21.3 9.3 7.2 2.9

Source: Dallas–Fort Worth Native- and Foreign-Born Telephone Survey.

presents the responses to this question. Two reasons accounted for more than half of the responses—that they were not eligible or that they had not thought about it. Although we did not ask, it is certainly probable that a significant proportion of the Mexican respondents are undocumented and, hence, would be ineligible for naturalization.



Table 7 What Are the Most Important Rights That You Enjoy as a Resident of the United States? (in percentages)

Freedom/Individualism Freedom of speech/Open society Opportunity to be what you want to be/Right to work Freedom of religion Education Right to vote None/Nothing Other No response/Do not know/Cannot say

Salvadoran (N = 100)

Indian (N = 102)

Nigerian (N = 100)


9.0 17.0 28.0

30.4 24.5 6.9

24.0 31.0 8.0

23.0 25.0 7.0

4.0 3.0 1.0 1.0 34.0 3.0

2.0 5.9

2.0 2.0 10.0

21.6 8.7

17.0 5.0

4.0 4.0 13.0 1.0 22.0 1.0

Note: Respondents were asked to provide up to three responses; table reflects first response given only.

Being a U.S. Citizen: “In America You Can Live Your Own Life” Respondents were asked to talk about the rights they enjoyed and the responsibilities that they had as a result of being a resident of the United States, whether a citizen or not. Tables 7 and 8 present these data by immigrant group. In these tables, I have provided only the first response given, although interviewees were asked for up to three responses. Salvadorans placed the most value collectively on the right to work and to be what you want to be (see Table 7). Among the other three groups, there does not appear to be significant variation, although the Vietnamese did not place as much weight on broad issues of freedom/individualism as did the Nigerians or particularly, the Indians. This may be shaped by the communist culture out of which they come. Their responses certainly indicate some nuanced differences of opinion. For example, a young man who arrived in 1975 at the age of 6 suggested that Americans take their rights for granted: “One cannot really appreciate them unless one has been deprived of these rights.” On the other hand, an older man who arrived in the United States in 1980 at age 35 commented, We must be careful to not confuse freedom and lack of discipline. I am shocked to see the flag burning. This is totally unacceptable behavior. It is really a violation of freedom. Individuals must exercise some judgement and responsibility. Likewise, I think it is wrong to shout at the president or other public officials. We should not abuse our freedom.



The Indians placed somewhat less emphasis on the right to vote as their top priority by comparison with Vietnamese and Nigerian respondents, perhaps because they come from a democracy where they have had this right since 1947. Indeed, many Indians emphasized that there is not much difference between their experiences in the United States and India regarding the rights associated with democracy, except for the difference between what they consider to be a more honest government and political system in the United States compared with a corrupt system in India. As one 42-year-old male put it, “The greatest thing about this country is that you don’t have to bribe anyone or tell lies to get normal treatment.” When they did draw distinctions, it had more to do with the cultural context in which these rights are exercised. A 40-year-old male from Karnataka who is an LPR observed, “You feel more free here. In India everyone bothers about you—your family, your office colleagues, political parties. Here people leave you alone, it is a dream land.” Another male respondent who recently naturalized commented, I am amazed at the freedom that there is here. You can do what you want to do. Everything is so flexible compared to India. In India you do not have the flexibility to take a reduced number of hours at school. You have to take the prescribed number. In India students do not evaluate their teachers. In India you cannot switch from mechanical engineering to computer science as I did here. India is a very conservative country socially—the government is conservative and families are. Not as conservative as the Middle East because India is a democracy and it is secular. But there are powerful social norms. Women do not smoke in India. It is not against any religion or law but it is a social norm not to do it. It would not occur to women to smoke there. India is just so much more structured than the United States.

A third, a 52-year-old male who is a citizen, cited the preamble of the constitution— that all men are created equal: “I like that feeling because it is different from India but I am sure you know about that.” When I asked if he meant the caste system, he nodded yes in reply. But it was a 46-year-old female and citizen who best summed up the subtle and meaningful (to Indians) differences between political rights and cultural rights: It’s true that in India, being a democracy, we have the same political freedoms as in the U.S. American culture, however, is such that people are encouraged to speak their minds and to be open about what they think. That is a wonderful characteristic about American culture.

Of the four groups discussed here, the Salvadorans were the ones who occasionally wondered if they had rights (included in the Other category; see Table 7), some pointing to the discrimination that Hispanics often confront and most noting their undocumented or temporary immigration status. Some had a difficult time understanding the question, whereas others pointed to the discrimination that Hispanics



Table 8 What Are the Most Important Duties and Obligations That You Have as a Member of this Society? (in percentages)

Obey the law To vote/Participate in elections To pay taxes To be a good citizen/Give back to the community/Help your neighbor Military service/Fight for country To take care of family/Raise children correctly Loyalty to the state None/Nothing Other No response/Do not know/Cannot say

Salvadoran (N = 100)

Indian (N = 102)

Nigerian (N = 100)


33.0 2.0 6.0 18.0

27.5 10.8 9.8 31.4

33.0 16.0 9.0 23.0

43.6 8.9 9.9 5.9

1.0 12.0

2.9 0.9

2.0

7.9 2.9

1.0 6.0 17.0 4.0

1.9 1.9 9.8 2.9

3.0 1.0 12.0

17.8 2.9

Note: Respondents were asked to provide up to three responses; table reflects first response given only.

confront. One woman noted that when there is a confrontation between a White person and a Hispanic, “siempre ganar el bolio” (loosely, “Whitey always wins”). Some individuals stressed the laws that protect racial equality as being important. Some Salvadorans responded to the question as a reference to the legal status of residency and, hence, talked about their right to not be bothered by la migra or the government. The right to work and the right to have access to health care were issues particularly noted by Salvadorans. By contrast with the prioritizing of rights, there appear to be some major differences in how individuals in these different communities define their primary responsibilities as a member of U.S. society (see Table 8). Of the Vietnamese respondents, 44% said that obeying the law is their most important duty. Although 27% of Indians offered this response, a higher percentage (31%) cited “to be a good citizen/give back to the community/help your neighbor,” a response consistent with what many gave as the primary reason for becoming a U.S. citizen. It is interesting that only 6% of Vietnamese interviewees offered this response first, a difference that certainly merits further exploration. Many of the Indian respondents made comments similar to a 49-year-old male from West Bengal who noted that volunteer work was not common in India, except what people do for their local temple. In the United States, he and his wife do a lot of volunteer work, which they view as one of the best aspects of American culture: “I have been coaching soccer for 15 years and love it.” The contrast between Indians and Vietnamese is even starker when we note that the Nigerians are closer to the Indians on this issue and equally far apart from the Vietnamese. It is interesting that two



Nigerian informants mentioned that talking to children about staying in school is one of the most important ways in which they can give back to the community. Salvadorans ranked the duty of giving back to the community highest after the obligation to obey the law. Indeed, a few Salvadorans said that they learned once they came to the United States that laws, particularly those of the highway, had to be obeyed. For example, one male respondent said that he was stopped and given a ticket in 1983 for driving without a license. The judge explained to him that driving in the United States was a privilege, not a right. Salvadorans also felt quite strongly about the obligation to take care of children and raise children correctly. Although these differences should not be drawn too rigidly (in second and third choices, Vietnamese started to mention giving back to the community), they are nevertheless tantalizing. Gilbertson and Singer (2003) observed that few members of the Dominican Castillo family in New York embrace U.S. citizenship as a means to more active political or civic participation. When asked how they define a “good citizen” many emphasized that it was someone who was law abiding rather than someone who was politically or civically active. (p. 46)

Very few of the naturalized Castillos had exercised their right to vote. In this regard they are more like the Vietnamese in our sample than the Nigerians, Indians, or even the Salvadorans. Some important aspects of human and social capital may be at play here, as well as different cultural conceptions of citizenship. Do Nigerians come to the United States with a more rights-based conception of citizenship? Do the Vietnamese, like other East and Southeast Asians (Ip et al., 1997), emphasize the collective over the individual in their conception of good citizenship? What these data seem to suggest is that different immigrant populations have distinct understandings of the rights/responsibilities dimensions of citizenship. What about the identity dimensions of citizenship?

Labels of Identity The interview included a question on ethnic ancestry. The question puzzled many informants, suggesting that this is an area of inquiry that is not immediately meaningful to first-generation immigrants.7 Although questions about ethnic ancestry probably need to be more carefully situated in the context of social action, there are some variations in the responses to this question across groups that are nevertheless intriguing. The Vietnamese, most of them citizens of the United States by virtue of the rapid immigration status adjustment trajectory (refugee, to LPR, to naturalized citizen), offered responses such as “pure Vietnamese,” a combination of Vietnamese and Chinese, a combination of Vietnamese and French (in a few cases), and in rare



instances, a combination of Vietnamese and Laotian or Vietnamese and Malay. A couple of individuals offered “hyphenates” of Vietnamese American or Asian American. One informant, who had arrived in the United States as a 6-year-old in 1975, recounted a trip back to Vietnam in 1995 to visit his father’s ancestral burial ground. He described seeing 150 family burial plots, all with his last name. He found out that his surname was originally Chinese, many of these families were Chinese, and the name eventually became a Vietnamese name. He suggested, as a result of this experience, that all Asian cultures are interconnected and that rather than segregate themselves, people from this region should “embrace their Asian-ness” while still being proud of their specific heritage as Vietnamese, Cambodian, Laotian, and so forth. Another respondent suggested that ethnicity could be traced through the name—names such as Nguyen and Le being true Vietnamese, whereas those such as Tran and Dam betray some Chinese ancestry. In this sense, names to them carry meaning as they do for Indian immigrants who in this country as in India, can situate someone’s regional origins through his or her name. Ethnic ancestry has an even less, or perhaps one should say more, complex meaning for Asian Indians in the United States for whom regional and religious identifiers are more paramount. Indeed, they build their community organizations based on state of origin or religion, as well as on being Indian. In the first case, language issues are also of importance. The majority (52%) replied that they were Indian or Asian Indian (some noting that this is important because of the U.S. association of the word Indian with Native American). The second most common answer was to use a religious affiliation, largely Hindu but also Jain, Sikh, or Moslem (19%). Others offered a regional (Punjabi, Gujarati) or linguistic (Tamil) identifier or a caste identification (as Brahman, largely). For example, a 62-year-old woman from Goa, invoking historical circumstances, said, “You cannot really say we are Indian because for the longest time we were not,” whereas another woman in her early 30s claimed, “I am Gujarati but what is stronger is the caste definition. I am a Vaisha. That is the way we think of ourselves. But here if you ask I would say I am from India.” Most interesting were those who responded Asian/Pacific Islander, referring clearly to how the U.S. Bureau of the Census constructs their identity. One 30-year-old male respondent on an H-1B visa went on to observe that ethnicity is a concern in the United States but not in India: “In India we are all the same.” When probed further, he admitted that there are regional differences and differences of language that accompany these. But he then also noted that it is odd to lump all Asians together in the United States because within Asia, there is enormous diversity. A few individuals took the question as an opportunity to educate interviewers about the differences between the Aryan and Dravidian populations in India. Finally, a few respondents offered a rather sophisticated Barthian situational theory about such labels (see Barth, 1969), noting that if in India, they would use their regional identifier, but in the United States, where few people would understand these differences, they simply



adopt the national identifier. For example, one 64-year-old male informant said that if he labeled himself Punjabi instead of Indian, it would be “like saying I’m a Texan versus I’m an American.” Another respondent, a 39-year-old male who entered the United States in 1992 and is an LPR, used all the identifiers, claiming that he was Indian but also said, “I’m from Karnataka, so [I am] also Kannada, and South Asian, and also Texan!” The majority of Nigerians, if they were not as taken aback by the question as those from other immigrant groups, responded with an ethnic identifier—primarily as Igbo or Yoruba but also Itsekiri, Efik, Edo, or Ibibio. Some combined this ethnic group label with Nigerian or African or Black as in “I am Nigerian from the Yoruba ethnic group.” The Salvadorans puzzled the most about this question and often had to be prompted with examples before they gave a response. Although the majority responded with their nationality—Salvadoran (44%)—21% said Hispanic and 15% said Latino. The rest offered answers such as Central American, Mestizo, Indian, Spanish (in the sense of having Spanish blood), or some combination. A few, when they fixed on Hispanic, noted that this was the label in the United States. One man replied that he was just a “humble worker, like any Hispanic.” One even commented that what he was depended on the situation.

“It’s Like Being Upgraded From Economy to First Class”: Being American and Being Other Respondents were asked three questions about identity. One question was phrased “What does it mean to be an American?” Another asked, “What does it mean to be Indian/Vietnamese/Nigerian?” A third question asked about having a double identity: “Some people say you can be both American and [country of origin] at the same time. Other people say that you have to choose between one and the other. What do you think?” In hindsight, we probably should have included a question about panethnic identity labels such as Asian American, Latino, or African American. In a similar manner, the question about being an American was often confusing to those who were not yet citizens, but when pushed to comment on a broader meaning of “being American” exterior to themselves, the question did yield some revealing responses. Some of the Vietnamese associated the first question with the rights that they enjoy, particularly the right to vote and express one’s opinions freely. Others equated it with freedom and opportunity. Thus, one respondent, a 20-year-old female, said, Everything about being an American and living in America is good. It is a great place to live and work and have a family. There is freedom to do what you want with your life and go where you please whenever you please without having to answer to some higher power.



Another, a 23-year-old male on a student visa, said, “To be American means that you have freedom to express yourself without anyone stopping you. An American also has the freedom to succeed in life with all the opportunities given by the government.” And probably the most delightful was the following response from a 59-year-old male who arrived in 1980: “It means I have been upgraded, like from economy to first class.” He went on: I am old and don’t have long to live, but I am very happy for my son and my children. Years ago I made a trip to Stockholm and was surprised that with an American passport, there were no checks, no baggage search. I was in the fast lane. I had been upgraded.

Similar themes about opportunity, freedom, and personal space were present in the Asian Indian responses. A 61-year-old male respondent who arrived in the United States in 1964 started by saying, “That is a hard question.” Then he continued: “America is a country of opportunity. It is a place where children will have the most freedom. I have found this to be the case. America allows you to practice in your own way and to achieve community objectives.” A 30-year-old male who arrived in 1994 and is naturalized said, Lots of stuff. Freedom is big, freedom to be who you are, freedom to pursue happiness. That is a great thing enshrined in the constitution although sometimes it can lead to excess. But it is about allowing an individual to pursue whatever makes him happy no matter what his religion, sexual preferences, etc. You are allowed to be what you want to be within correct limits.

Some respondents answered by comparing America with India. India was often portrayed as a society where status is ascribed rather than achieved: In India we are all brought up like followers, to do things when somebody else asks and to do it well, but not to take a leadership role. In the U.S. I have learned how to be a leader and it means a lot to me.

Another respondent reinforced this perspective: “In India things are shaped by custom and caste. There are fewer social restrictions here than in India. Even in work there is less independence there than it is here.” A third, after noting that the question was “profound,” said, “Freedom to do what I want; to be successful on my own merits rather than through knowing someone, which is the way you achieve success in India.” Several Indian respondents, again approaching the question within a reflective and comparative framework, commented on how much easier it is to live in the United States. Things happen more efficiently and more quickly. Life, in short, is more hassle free. They expressed admiration for the hard work and volunteerism



that characterizes Americans. However, others were critical of the lack of knowledge about the rest of the world that is common among Americans. Observed one 26-year-old female on an L-2 visa, America is a great environment. It is more evolved. But at the same time people are provincial and not very adaptable. They like the familiar and do not care about the rest of the world. But they are also family oriented and try to balance work and family.

Some even contrasted the goodness of the people with a foreign policy (in a post9/11 and Iraq War world) that is “not so good.” Although many Salvadorans had trouble with the question of what it means to be an American, several began by noting that they have always been American, in the sense that they are part of the American hemisphere. Those who chose to focus on being in the United States and what it meant to them brought up, like members of other groups, issues of freedom and opportunity and the possibility of getting ahead. Said one, “It means that one has opportunities, the chance to prosper and get an education. The education must come first. Things can be accomplished in El Salvador, but it is harder.” Another responded, “It’s easy to love this country because it can give you food and a roof and a chance to better oneself.” A third pointed to the American dream, to feeling pride, and to helping the needy. A theme that came up in several Salvadoran responses, and less so among other immigrant groups, was the idea of being respected. It is clear that this comment emerges from a reflection about these respondents’ own background and small country. As one respondent put it, “In the United States a person that was considered poor in El Salvador lives like a rich Salvadoran.” And another said, “Being an American means being an international figure, because of both the power and the image of the country in the rest of the world’s minds.” Responses also tended to reflect immigration status: Those who are legalized or citizens feel greater freedom and emphasized the rights they have as a citizen, whereas those who are undocumented or in the limbo status of temporary protected status said they often felt neither here nor there. It is curious that the Nigerians expressed the most ambivalence about the question of being an American, although not uniformly, because many stated they were proud to be American if they were citizens or emphasized being free and prosperous as attributes of being an American. “This is the freest country,” said one respondent. “The American government takes good care of its citizens.” He spoke about how, if you are stranded in another country, “all you need to do is go to the American embassy and they will put you up in a hotel and pay for your ticket back home.” Being American, said another, means that “you are a protected person who is provided for by the government.” Another responded, “It means having freedom of speech and living in a place with a good system of government. The social services are good.” No doubt these are comments shaped by the contrast with these respondents’ own cultural experiences in Nigeria, perhaps best summed up by a respondent who said that being an American



“makes me feel like I belong to the world. Africans are ignored.” This seems to echo the sentiment of the Vietnamese respondent who felt that he had been “upgraded.” Some Nigerians displayed caution in their response to this question. One respondent, for example, said that he thought most people would probably say freedom, “but the freedom is limited. You can’t really do anything you want.” This respondent went on to comment that it was interesting to be part of a superpower. But another respondent, a woman, noted how ignorant Americans are about other countries and other cultures and that American children have no respect. This respondent was reflecting a broader appreciation that several Nigerians expressed about the values of their culture. And yet there were respondents who had incorporated some of what they thought were U.S. values—working hard, getting ahead, efficiency—and had a goal of bringing these back to Nigeria, that is, lending Nigeria their newfound expertise. One respondent put it this way: “[I want] to teach Nigerians how to fish instead of giving them the fish.” On the obverse question of what it means to be Indian, Vietnamese, Nigerian, or Salvadoran, many individuals, no matter their background, spoke about the preservation of their own culture (food, language, religion) or a set of values that guide their lives. However, there were exceptions. Among the Vietnamese interviewees, for example, were a number of individuals who have been in the United States for one and a half generations and, hence, could hardly recall Vietnam. They often responded, “It does not mean anything” or gave some variant of this kind of response. But generally, across all groups, there was an expression of pride in roots. Thus, one 61-year-old male Vietnamese immigrant who arrived in 1975 said, Vietnam is still my homeland, my motherland. But I have no particular sentimental attachments to the country. I guess I have lost any sense of belonging or patriotism, although the work I do for the community is indicative of a continuing commitment to my Vietnamese heritage.

Several others used a similar expression about remembering their heritage. Indian immigrants talked about their deep cultural heritage and their strong family values, including the custom of living in joint family households. Indeed, they often contrasted the individualism of Americans with the collectivism of Indians. Thus, one respondent offered, “There is more self-sufficiency in the U.S. and more warmth in India; families and groups of friends are ‘tighter’ in India.” Another commented, “In India the goal is to bring the whole society up; in the U.S. you work for yourself and your children.” A third thought that tolerance and respect for the elderly were central characteristics of Indians: “We think a lot of about family. We have a value of sharing. I would rather spend time with my family than go out.” He went on to describe a recent incident when his son was playing on the street with two neighbor girls and one had a cookie and the other child asked for some and she said no that this was her last cookie:



“In our culture you would break the cookie in half and share. There is too much of focusing on me in the U.S. and that is different from India.” A fourth put it this way: Indians have heart. They enjoy simple pleasures. They take care of one another. It is different there. There is more neighborliness. What they do not have in monetary wealth they have in relationships and caring for others. They invest in relationships. These are the substitute for the absence of wealth.

This respondent went on to note that when he traveled back to India, people dropped in, wanting to greet him and find things out: “In fact everyone knows about everyone else in India. Here in America you make appointments to see people—there the doors are always open. There is a real affection for one another in India.” Finally, one young Bengali woman summed it up in the following way: In India you would never think of going to a psychiatrist to solve your problems. You would turn to friends and family—to your mother or your best friend. They would think, why pay money to solve your problems. You rely on people who are close to you.

Nigerians thought of themselves in both similar and different ways from those in the other two immigrant populations. They mentioned that being Nigerian gives them their “initial identity” and a “sense of home” or “roots.” Like Indians, they stressed the strong sense of family. Said one respondent, “I love Nigeria. I love our culture. The family closeness. The family helping each other. That’s what I miss a lot. I can go to a third, fourth, or fifth cousin and stay as long as I want.” Another commented, “I feel freer in Nigeria. Family relationships are stronger. You meet with people more. You don’t have to call people before you visit. You just go and visit people and you are welcome.” Another Nigerian expressed his Nigerian identity in terms of a contrast: “America teaches you to do things yourself and if you work hard enough you can be anything you want to be. Nigeria teaches the importance of family and respect.” Indeed, several Nigerian respondents mentioned respect for elders as a deeply rooted aspect of Nigerian culture and identity. Others, instead of mentioning their own perceptions, focused on those of outsiders, emphasizing in particular the common assumption that Nigerians are corrupt. They know about the scams, Internet and otherwise, with which Nigerians are frequently associated. This leads some to consider themselves always as outsiders in the United States: “In your own country you are free to do what you want but in America you’re always an outsider,” said one respondent. “Life is always easier at home.” Although Salvadorans expressed sentiments similar to those discussed above, many responded to the question of what it means to be a Salvadoran by talking about their war-torn country and the poverty of its people. One said, “I know how it feels to live poorly. I can appreciate what I have.” Another responded that being Salvadoran means “to live in poverty, while those in the government get rich.” “It means to be



proud, but poor,” said a third. “You can work hard all your life and have nothing to show for it.” A fourth noted wistfully, “I love my country and feel pride for it. Before the war it was a beautiful place. No one needed to emigrate because you could live there happily. Not like now.” Given their backgrounds, it is not surprising that the Salvadorans, more so than members of the other three groups discussed in this article, mentioned that they are a hardworking people, fighters. One respondent observed, “It means someone who is in a difficult situation, struggling without improving.” Another said, “It means I am a native of there, humble, hardworking, with a desire to better myself. We Salvadorans are known for having the courage to work very hard.” On the question of having to choose or being both, the overwhelming majority of people thought that you can be both, that there is good and bad in each culture, and that you should take the best from both worlds. These immigrants did not see any conflict; although many Americans do not think it is possible to follow two or more different cultural traditions, to maintain identification and attachment to two separate nations, or to be fully engaged civically in several countries. One Vietnamese respondent observed, “I am an American first, but I respect Vietnamese values.” A Nigerian respondent bluntly stated, “I am not choosing. I cannot choose. [Many] Nigerians are not here because they want to be. It is out of economic necessity. I belong to America and Nigeria.” A Salvadoran said that he had to thank both nations—one gave him life and the other opportunity to grow and succeed. How could he choose? Some respondents make the distinction between dual or multiple citizenship and dual nationality—the former referring to the political, social, and economic rights and obligations that a person enjoys or agrees to by virtue of having been born or having become a member of a particular state. Nationality is then defined in broader identificational and cultural terms. Another way of putting this is that they distinguish between the legal changes they experience as a result of becoming a citizen, but this does not mean they change who they are. One Indian respondent, a 30-year-old male from Gujarat, expressed this compartmentalization: It depends on what you are taking about. If it is about culture, personality and character I think you can draw from both; if it is about a conflict between the US and my country I think I would be loyal to where I live; I am here using the resources here so I think I would have to be loyal to the U.S.

Another Indian respondent, a 48-year-old female from the state of Kerala who is a U.S. citizen, was even more articulate on the subject: I feel a bit like an adopted child. I feel obliged to this country because I have been admitted here and it is such an open country. But in general the answer to this question is that it depends on what you are talking about. Are you talking about politics and bearing arms. In that case you would have to choose. If it is identity I can choose but you can



look at me and see color and not give me a choice. This is a big country that allows you to be different. But Bombay also was a place that absorbed a lot of differences.

She concluded her response by noting that in some ways, she had acquired some Indianness once in the United States because this is what makes her distinctive. A Salvadoran respondent put the aspect of a dual identity in situational terms by responding that when he is in the United States, he is American; when he is in El Salvador, he is Salvadoran. Another noted that he is a U.S. citizen but a “Salvadoran in his heart.” But one Salvadoran was a bit more discriminating: “By law, one can be both. But in one’s heart, where you work and live determines what you are. Especially once you adapt to life here. I think I would feel like a foreigner in El Salvador now.” This “heart” metaphor was used by other respondents, although it was applied in slightly different ways. A young Indian father who is currently in the United States on an H-1B visa insisted that you can be both and said that he tells his daughter “to pick up the service mindedness and discipline of Americans but the heart and caring for people that is India.” He said that he was proud that his daughter was kindhearted, that she, like he, cared about the disadvantaged, the humble people, and how to make their lives better. He said he was glad of this caring and was more proud of that than that she gets good grades. As if summing up the perspective that seems characteristic of the majority of Indians, a young 30-year-old woman from West Bengal who came to the United States in 2000 and is currently on an H-4 visa asserted, You can be both; you can have a good mix. India imitates the U.S. in many ways—like the MTV culture. But India also has powerful social values. Especially where the family is concerned. But what India lacks is the value of obeying the law which is strong in the U.S., and the sense of belonging to a country.

She said that she admires Americans because they want to do good for the country: “They do not throw things out the window. They put a value on patriotism. Indians just say let it happen, who cares. One place has a more powerful sense of family, the other a more powerful sense of country.” For some of these immigrants, being both is part of the new global world. Many Indians noted that the India of today is not the same as the India in which they grew up and that many Indians come to the United States knowing a lot about the way of life in America. One Nigerian observed that it is a multiethnic world and, thus, adhering to two identities is not problematic. Indeed one Nigerian man suggested that there is no choice: “Culture isn’t something that you can put on and off like clothes. You can’t get rid of your culture.” However, a few respondents across all groups stressed that you had to choose—that two identities do not go together and that “you have problems if you try to mix the two.” For some, the most complicated situations arise in relation to raising children; thus, it becomes an issue of negotiating their children’s identities rather than their own.



Conclusion A 50-year-old Nigerian who was an LPR at the time of his interview commented that if you come from another country to America, “you still have your traditions embedded in you. You can’t change that. Being an American to me means being a good citizen, knowing how to do things.” This response represents the difference that first-generation immigrants draw between political belonging and cultural belonging. The way that individual immigrants balance these two ideas about belonging influences the way that they construct their identities as well as their attitudes toward naturalization and citizenship. Although there are subtle differences across the four immigrant groups discussed here in the reasons that they gave for naturalization, as well as in their understandings of what it means to be a citizen (in relation to rights and responsibilities), they appear to share the idea that it is possible to operate with two or more identities. As Avtar Brah (1996) has argued, people just want to be, not to have to choose one among their multiple identities. Brah, born in the Punjab but raised in Uganda, was asked by an individual serving on a panel conducting interviews for a scholarship to study in the United States, whether she was African or Indian. Although her response, that she is a Ugandan of Indian descent, seemed to satisfy the questioner, Brah observed that in fact, he could not “see that I could be both. . . . I had to name an identity, no matter that this naming rendered invisible all the other identities” (p. 3). It is clear that postcolonial individuals as well as immigrants struggle with these hybrid identities and how they define their “being” affects how they define their belonging. The immigrants discussed in this article do have a bifocality of outlooks and a dual sense of belonging. Those who have taken American citizenship have often done so for very pragmatic, rights-based reasons, and this defines their political belonging. In this way, they are similar to the Dominicans described by Gilbertson and Singer (2003) who pursued “protective citizenship” or to the “additive citizenship” pursued by a range of immigrants in the context of naturalization ceremonies that Susan Bibler Coutin (2003b) has described. The difference is that in the cases described by Gilbertson and Singer and by Coutin, citizenship was a response to legal changes of the mid-1990s that denied certain rights even to LPRs—hence, the choice of the word protective rather than my use of pragmatic. The respondents discussed here (and particularly the Indians and Nigerians) have a broader outlook; for that reason, the political belonging that is operationalized in the act of naturalization is often accompanied by a sense of responsibilities as well as of rights. Becoming a naturalized American citizen, however, does not necessarily alter their sense of cultural belonging, which is rooted strongly in the immutability of their place of birth. Their identities are shaped by both. The comparison engaged in here demonstrates that there are some subtle variations in both the naturalization experiences of different immigrant populations and in how this shapes and is shaped



by their identities. A decade ago, Philip Yang (1994) pointed to this variation, arguing that “until we have explored this ethnic diversity, we will not be able to understand completely the forces leading to immigrant naturalization and its long term consequences in [the United States]” (p. 474). It is hoped that this article will help to further our understanding of what leads immigrants down the path to naturalization, what it means to them, how it defines who they are, and what kinds of citizens (in the broadest sense of the term) they are likely to be. I have deliberately framed these questions in terms of belonging to emphasize the agency that immigrants themselves have in defining their own space and their own identities.

Notes 1. Generally, citizenship refers to a political status that accords certain political, economic, and social rights and responsibilities. Nationality, by contrast, refers to common identification with other members of a community, to a shared worldview, set of practices, and institutions. Nagel and Staeheli (2004, p. 7) made a similar point, noting a decoupling of what they called “formal” citizenship (one’s legal status) from identification with the nation-state. It should be noted, however, that some scholars have viewed both nationality and citizenship as legal statuses, the former “referring to state membership and the latter to the rights and duties that are accorded within a national polity” (Feldblum & Klusmeyer, 1999, p. 3). 2. Some selection criteria were common to all groups (sex, age, year of entry) and some were unique to particular groups (e.g., capturing religious differences that characterize the Indian population or the differences in points of regional origin—north, central, south—that characterize Vietnamese immigrants). 3. I had hoped to include a rigorous analysis of these immigration trajectories in this article, but it is extremely complicated and requires a more careful manipulation of the data than I have had time to execute. 4. As part of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952, 50,000 diversity visas (green cards) have been available annually to people coming from countries with low rates of immigration to the United States. The National Visa Center of the State Department holds the lottery every year and chooses winners randomly from all qualified entries. It is a controversial program, and those who are opposed to it are concerned about fraud, among other things. Nigeria and Bangladesh have consistently been in the top 10 countries for lottery winners. For more information, see the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Service (n.d.-b). 5. Bosnians, Rwandans, Liberians, and Somalians are other groups that have, like the Salvadorans, been able to take advantage of this status. 6. Mexico (a few years ago), El Salvador, Vietnam, Nigeria (in the early 1990s), and India (quite recently) all allow their nationals abroad to retain citizenship in their countries of origin even when they take citizenship in another country, although the rights extended to them by their country of birth vary. India’s dual nationality law was pending at the time that the majority of the interviews with this immigrant community were conducted. On December 22, 2003, the Indian Parliament passed a bill granting dual citizenship to people of Indian origin who are overseas. 7. Indeed such labels (and especially panethnic labels) are themselves hotly contested and although sometimes generated from within, they have also equally been applied from outside (Espiritu 1992; Lieberson & Waters, 1988; Melville, 1983; Oboler, 1997). Oboler (1999, p. 46) stated that before the 1970s, people of Latin American descent were not officially homogenized into one ethnic group; nor were they identified as such by the state.



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Caroline B. Brettell is Dedman Family Distinguished Professor in the Department of Anthropology at Southern Methodist University. She is the author of several books, including Anthropology and Migration: Essays on Transnationalism, Ethnicity and Identity (AltaMira Press, 2003), and numerous book chapters and articles focusing on immigration in both Europe and the United States. She is coeditor of Migration Theory: Talking Across Disciplines (Routledge, 2000). She was coprincipal investigator on a project funded through the Cultural Anthropology Program of the National Science Foundation titled Immigrants, Rights and Incorporation in a Suburban Metropolis. She is currently coinvestigator of a new project titled Practicing Citizenship in a New City of Immigration: An Ethnographic Comparison of Asian Indians and Vietnamese and funded by the Russell Sage Foundation.
