The Uncertain Ground: How Trump's Immigration Policies Are Eroding Naturalized Citizens' Sense of Security

Immigration enforcement operations have occasionally captured American citizens within their sweeps.

After fleeing civil war in Sierra Leone and spending nearly ten years in a refugee camp, Dauda Sesay arrived in the United States without knowing citizenship was possible. He was informed that by following regulations and avoiding legal issues, he could apply after several years. Citizenship would provide him with protection.

This prospect motivated his application: the fundamental concept that becoming a naturalized American citizen would establish a connection between him and his adopted homeland. He would gain rights alongside responsibilities, such as voting, symbolizing a mutual commitment between himself and the nation.

"When I raised my hand and took the oath of allegiance, I truly believed the promise that I belonged," explained Sesay, 48, who arrived in Louisiana more than 15 years ago and now advocates for refugees and their integration into American society.

However, in recent months, as President Donald Trump transforms immigration policies and America's relationship with immigrants, this belief has been undermined for Sesay and fellow naturalized citizens. There's growing concern that the drive to dramatically increase deportations and redefine who can claim America as home—through initiatives like attempting to end birthright citizenship—is creating widespread uncertainty.

What they once considered the solid foundation of naturalization now seems unstable.

Some worry about encountering difficulties returning to the country after traveling abroad, anxious due to reports of naturalized citizens being questioned or detained by U.S. border officials. They wonder whether they should secure their phones to protect their privacy. Others hesitate to move freely within the country after incidents like a U.S. citizen being wrongfully accused of illegal presence and detained despite his mother providing his birth certificate.

Sesay revealed he no longer travels domestically without carrying his passport, despite possessing a REAL ID that meets stringent federal identity requirements.

Immigration enforcement operations, often conducted by masked, unidentifiable federal agents in cities including Chicago and New York, have sometimes mistakenly included American citizens. One U.S. citizen who claims to have been detained twice by immigration agents has initiated a federal lawsuit.

Intensifying these concerns, the Justice Department issued a memo this summer announcing increased efforts to denaturalize immigrants who have committed crimes or are deemed national security risks. During the summer, Trump even threatened the citizenship of Zohran Mamdani, the 34-year-old democratic socialist mayor-elect of New York City, who naturalized as a young adult.

This climate makes many reluctant to discuss these issues publicly, fearing they might attract negative attention. Requests for comment through various community organizations and other connections found no one willing to speak on record except Sesay.

In New Mexico, state Senator Cindy Nava understands this fear, having grown up undocumented before obtaining DACA protection—the Obama-era program shielding those brought to the U.S. as children from deportation—and eventually gaining citizenship through marriage. However, she hadn't anticipated witnessing such fear among naturalized citizens.

"I had never seen those folks be afraid... now people I know who weren't afraid before are uncertain about what their status means as a safety net," Nava observed.

According to Stephen Kantrowitz, history professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, the meaning of citizenship and who qualifies for it has expanded and contracted throughout American history. He noted that while the word "citizen" appears in the original Constitution, it remains undefined.

"When the Constitution was written, nobody knew what citizenship meant," he explained. "It's a term of art from the French revolutionary tradition. It suggests equality among members of a political community and implies certain rights to belong to that community. But it was... extremely undefined."

The first naturalization law passed in 1790 by the new nation's Congress stated that citizenship was available to any "free white person" of good character. Those of African descent were specifically added to federal immigration law following the Civil War in the 19th century, which also saw the addition of the 14th Amendment establishing birthright citizenship.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, laws were enacted limiting immigration and, consequently, naturalization. The Immigration Act of 1924 effectively barred people from Asia by making them ineligible for naturalization, as they were neither white nor Black. This remained unchanged until 1952, when immigration law removed racial restrictions on naturalization. The 1965 Immigration and Naturalization Act replaced the previous system with one distributing visas equally among nations.

American history includes instances when citizenship was revoked, as after the 1923 Supreme Court ruling in U.S. vs. Bhagat Singh Thind, which determined that Indians couldn't naturalize because they didn't qualify as white, resulting in dozens of denaturalizations. At other times, citizenship rights were disregarded, as during World War II when Japanese Americans were forced into internment camps.

"Political power sometimes simply decides that certain groups, individuals, or families aren't entitled to citizenship," Kantrowitz noted.

In the current climate, Sesay describes feeling betrayed.

"The United States of America—that's what I pledged allegiance to, what I committed myself to," Sesay reflected. "Now, within my home country, I'm witnessing a shift... Honestly, this isn't the America I believed in when I placed my hand over my heart."