17 Months of Waiting, Despair, and Enlightenment: My Naturalization Story

Fine print can be merciless. I read the latest update from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS), heart caught in my throat. It was over a year since my brother and I applied for U.S. citizenship. USCIS had approved him for naturalization the month before, and his oath ceremony had taken place just weeks prior. I had presumed a decision for me would come any day now. It did, but it wasn’t the one I was hoping for.

The N-400

My family came to the U.S. in 1995, having lived in South Korea and Hong Kong. Almost 5 years after that, we received our green cards on August 30, 2000, thereby making us permanent residents (AKA resident aliens).

While I could have applied much, much earlier, I never had a strong desire to do so until 2017. I had become much more interested and invested in the political landscape over the course of that year, and sparked by a desire to vote, I headed into 2018 having made it a goal to apply for naturalization. I convinced my brother to do so as well. In March of 2018, we each submitted the N-400, which is USCIS’ application for naturalization.

The N-400, which is available on the USCIS website, asks for residence history, employment and education history, family information, and biographic information, and also asks applicants a series of questions regarding any possible criminal history and whether they are willing to bear arms on behalf of the U.S. Of course, applicants must be eligible for naturalization; they must be at least 18 years old, been a permanent resident for at least 5 years, must not have been out of the U.S. for more than 30 months in the last five years, resided in the district/state where they are applying for at least 3 months, be of good moral character, and be able to read, speak, and write basic English, among several other factors. Applying isn’t cheap, either; it costs $725 (a $640 filing fee plus an $85 biometric services fee for applicants under 75).

A week after the N-400 was submitted, USCIS scheduled a biometric screening, which involves going to a nearby USCIS Application Support Center to have the applicant’s biometrics captured and their fingerprints cleared by the FBI. I had mine first, and my brother had his mere days later. Knowing that the interview was coming up next, I was surprised and appreciative at how quickly and smoothly the process was going.

I have a friend who became naturalized in 2016 under the Obama administration, so I naturally bonded with him over this soon-to-be-shared experience. He told me that his naturalization process, from submitting the N-400 to having his oath ceremony, took about six months. I grew excited about the prospect of being able to vote in the 2018 midterm elections.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Apart from a notice stating that USCIS had reviewed my biometrics that I received two weeks after the screening, my brother and I heard absolutely nothing. In July, I was speaking to another friend of mine who at the time was working for NBC. After I expressed my frustration at the silence, she told me that this was common under the Trump administration, as she had heard similar stories by others who were applying for naturalization as well. By the time early October rolled around, I realized there was no chance that I could be naturalized in time to register for and vote in the midterm elections.

The Interview

We finally received our interview notices on October 29, which set them for December 7, giving us a month to prepare any necessary paperwork and study for the English and civics tests. And so we did, getting our documents in order and using flash cards to quiz each other with questions from the test. On the day of the interview, we were quite confident of our chances heading into our county’s USCIS field office.

After waiting over an hour to be called, I was finally called by an agent, who led me into her office for the interview. The English and civics tests went off without a hitch. What took me by surprise were how many questions she asked about my family, particularly my father. Some of them I couldn’t quite answer since I barely saw my extended family since moving to the U.S. (8 years had passed since the last time) and my knowledge of my family tree is very minimal. At the end, the agent stated that a decision could not be made yet about my application. She issued a Form N-14, a Request for Additional Information, Documents, or Forms. What she needed was proof that Dad worked or had intended to work for his then-employer on or after he received his green card. Proof of employment can consist of W-2s, paychecks, employment contracts or offers, and any other employment documents dated on or after the date of his green card issuance (August 30, 2000).

I met my brother in the building’s lobby, and he told me his agent had issued a similar request as well. We went home and shared the news with our parents. Dad doubted he had records of his paychecks, as over 18 years have passed. He rummaged through his old files and did find a copy of his 2000 W-2. Satisfied, my brother and I submitted scanned copies of it to USCIS. The agents had told us we would have to wait up to three months for them to process it and make a decision.

It was on the morning of February 7, 2019 that my brother received a notice for his naturalization oath ceremony, which was scheduled for later that month, on February 20. He messaged me about the news and asked if mine had been scheduled as well. It had not, as I had received a biweekly notification a few hours earlier stating that there were no updates for my case.

Envious as I was, I was happy for my brother. Our family presumed that his agent probably processed his case faster, hence why he had been notified first. Mine was probably coming in the next month. We attended his ceremony, which was held at the Los Angeles Convention Center. There, he was naturalized alongside several thousand other immigrants in an emotional celebration. ‘Soon, I’ll be here too,’ I thought to myself, smiling as the newly naturalized citizens waved their small American flags.

The Decision: Part I

My denial notice was sent on March 15. It stated the W-2 did not establish that my father worked for the company after August 30, 2000 - only that he worked there for an unknown period of time during the year 2000. My family was shaken. How could this happen? USCIS asked me and my brother for the same information, and we submitted the same document. There must have been a mistake.

The left image is from my case. The one on the right is from my brother’s.

Our agents had received the same W-2, reviewed it, and came to differing decisions. I couldn’t think of any explanation other than that my brother had the luck of the draw when it came to the agent who called his name in the waiting room back in December.

Though USCIS had reached a decision regarding my application, I could submit a request for a hearing on Form N-336, Request for a Hearing on Decision in Naturalization Proceedings, within the next 30 days. If I chose not to file the N-336, then the decision would be final. No ifs, ands, or buts.

The N-336

I began sharing this recent update with a handful of close friends who knew about my application. One of them, whom I attend church with, told me that a fellow church member named Jeff is an immigration lawyer. Jeff was actually the best man at a mutual friend’s wedding last year. That friend connected me with Jeff, saying that he was the best and that he would at the very least consult me about my case.

I called Jeff and explained my situation, emailing him the decision notice to read. After doing so, he explained that my situation could become much, much worse.

USCIS had asked for my father’s proof of employment because they wanted to confirm that he remained with the company and thus in the U.S. after our family received our green cards. The company that Dad was working for at that time has a foreign parent entity (head company) in South Korea. About a month after we received our green cards, the head company needed employees at its office in Korea. Thus, they decided to transfer Dad to that office without his consent, which in effect terminated his position at the U.S. office. Dad, who had always intended to stay and raise his family in the U.S., was stunned. He went to Korea to protest that decision and take it up to top executive management. However, it resulted in his termination anyway from the head company in October 2000. He was unemployed for almost half a year before he found another job.

Jeff said that if I chose not to file the N-336, or if I chose to file the N-336 and lost the ensuing appeal, then that could potentially lead to USCIS investigating my family because to them, there could potentially be grounds for green card fraud. In an absolute worst-case scenario, this could potentially lead to not only my parents and I losing our green cards, but my brother could be denaturalized as well, all of which could result in our removal from the U.S.

I was aghast. Removed? After immigrating here legally? After building our lives here for nearly 25 years? Despite being of good moral character? Jeff affirmed this, saying that this was happening frequently under the Trump administration and that I had to treat this seriously and carefully.

After our call, I relayed what I had just learned to my family, who were astonished. I set up another call with Jeff, with my parents chiming in and listening to what he had to say. He reiterated what he told me and said that I should file the N-336. To do otherwise could lead to trouble for our family.

In my entire lifetime, I have never seen Dad so stressed until that night. He just sank into a couch and stared into space, despondent. Moments later, he began pacing around the room, mentally beating himself up. He said to me and Mom, “Why did I go back to Korea then? Why didn’t I stay here and tell them ‘no’? Why did I go?”

I was alarmed. Dad was normally a calm person, usually telling us to pray and trust God whenever we were anxious about anything. This was the first time in my life that I saw him not only in despair, but an absolute nervous wreck. I kept telling him, “Dad, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” My words seemed to fall only on deaf ears. He continued pacing the room, muttering to himself. Mom sat at the table, at a loss for words.

This was too much for me to handle. I stepped outside, telling Mom that I needed some fresh air. I walked around our neighborhood for an hour, calling some of my closest friends that I just needed to talk to. Luckily, they were available. They listened as I shared what Jeff told us and how scared I was that Dad seemed close to imploding. They didn’t have any answers, which was perfectly fine because I wasn’t looking for any. In regards to my case, I knew what course of action needed to be taken. I just needed them to listen to what I was feeling. And they did. Two of them, from church, gently reminded me that God loves my family and that He will take care of us. I’ve come to learn over the years just how faithful God is to us, and I was reminded of that. Hearing their words calmed me down, and soon I headed back inside. My father was now sitting on the couch, thinking to himself. It took a few days for him to return to “normal”. After some discussion, we knew we had to do two things: 1) prepare the N-336, and 2) hire a lawyer.

We hired Jeff to represent us, and he immediately began directing us in preparing the N-336. He would prepare the legal brief, while Dad and I had to get ahold of employment documents that prove he was at the company on or after August 30, 2000.

Dad found out that the U.S. office did not have paper records anymore. After some correspondence with a former colleague of his who still worked at the company, a CD was uncovered containing accounting records from 2000. They accessed the records, and they found Dad’s pay stubs from August 31, September 15, and September 22. Bingo. Dad’s colleague reviewed them and wrote a letter certifying their authenticity.

In addition, through that same colleague, Dad got in touch with the head company and asked for an employment verification letter. Although there was no longer anyone at the head company who remembered Dad, they did locate his employment history in their Human Resources records. It confirmed that Dad was employed at the U.S. office until September. They sent us an employment certificate bearing the CEO’s stamp.

I met Jeff at his firm’s offices in mid-April to finalize the N-336 submission. It contained the completed Form N-336, the legal brief, copies of the pay stubs, the colleague’s letter, and a check for the $700 filing fee for the N-336. Though the employment certificate from the head company had not arrived yet (as it was being mailed from overseas), USCIS would allow us to present it during the hearing.

Before I left, I asked Jeff how long it would take for us to get a response. He opined that it would take around three months.

Waiting (Again)

Not even three weeks had passed before I received a notice for a hearing on June 12. Jeff received the notice as well, and he told me that he was going to request to delay it, as he was scheduled to be out of the country on that date. I asked him if he thought this was a positive sign, as we weren’t expecting to hear back so soon. He said he did, and he told me that he wasn’t worried about our case at all. For the first time since the denial notice came in March, I felt a huge weight being lifted from my shoulders.

I wish I could say that I assumed a positive outlook from then on, but I didn’t. While I was in a better mood after hearing Jeff’s words, I couldn’t help but put on a “Hope for the best, expect the worst” attitude when it came to my case. After all, I was full of hope when I submitted the N-400, and look what happened. I’m not proud to say this, but I got jealous, even annoyed and cranky, at seeing my friends go about their lives and enjoying themselves. ‘Must be nice not having to worry about the possibility of being removed from the country,’ I thought to myself bitterly many times.

Only a small group of people, about 20, knew about my situation. This wasn’t something that I felt comfortable with sharing, and yet here I was, almost wanting - expecting - people to know. I knew I was being unreasonably selfish since I was acting as though I was the center of the universe.

I had planned to keep news about my situation only within the aforementioned circle of people, but that came to an end on Sunday, June 16, a few days after what would have been the hearing. After church service, the leaders typically hold seminars about a variety of topics. The topic that day was about insecurity (the provided definition: a feeling of uncertainty, a lack of confidence or anxiety about yourself). After sharing among ourselves in small groups what we are insecure, my pastor called on each of the men to share what we were insecure about. The intent was to help us overcome it and be transparent with each other.

When he called on me, I stood up, choking back sobs, and said, “I don’t think anyone can relate to what I’m going through.” With tears threatening to fall, I told them about my immigration situation, the potential threat of being removed, and my biggest fear: that - God forbid - if I was removed, that the people, the friends I leave behind would forget about me, that they would go on with their lives, almost as though they wouldn’t care about what would happen to me.

When I finished, my pastor (who already knew about my situation) told me that while he can’t care about me all the time, he does care about me. He told me that he had been praying for me and that because of my faith in Christ, I have hope and can move forward.

I sat down, wiping away tears while a few people laid their hands on my shoulders and squeezed, reassuring me that I was going to be okay. And I was. I am not the center of the universe, and I can’t be the center of everyone’s thoughts. My self-absorption had led me to believe otherwise. Opening up about my situation and my feelings as well as being unashamedly vulnerable in front of people brought me a peace of mind that I needed.

The Hearing

After we had pushed to delay the initial hearing, a new one was scheduled on July 17. Jeff and I met at his firm’s offices a few days beforehand to talk about what we (specifically, me) needed to prepare for. I wouldn’t be dealing with the same agent I had during the interview; this time, I was going to deal with a senior agent. I asked him again if he was feeling positive. He said he was.

We arrived at the USCIS field office on the day of the hearing. As we sat in the waiting area, Jeff was calm, whereas I was feeling nervous as memories of the interview and its results came flooding back to me. He sensed my unease, and he reassured me of his confidence in our case. He said that he would be very surprised and angry if I was to be denied again.

An agent called my name, and he led us into his office. Jeff and I told him about what we had brought, and he looked through the employment documents, only asking me some basic questions. Finally, he closed my case folder and said that he accepted our evidence. However, he had to verify something in Dad’s file before he made a decision. He told us that we would be notified soon.

Outside, Jeff and I spoke. He was relaxed, still clearly positive about our chances. As for me, I still felt uneasy, and it wasn’t until later when I realized why: how the hearing ended was like déjà vu, where what we prepared for went without a hitch and yet, the decision could not be made yet because one more thing! Still, I thanked him, and we parted ways, hoping to hear from USCIS soon.

The Decision: Part II

On the morning of July 19, I woke up to my alarm and groggily squinted at my phone. There it was, a notification indicating an email from USCIS. I quickly put on my glasses and logged onto my account on the USCIS website to read the update.

It was official: they approved my application.

Any doubts and reservations that I had held onto since this whole ordeal started went flying out the window. The saga that started on March 10, 2018 was finally, finally coming to an end.

I let out a giant sigh of relief, thanking God. I leapt out of my room, greeting my brother with the good news. I quickly messaged my parents (who were at early morning service for church) and Jeff before I realized that it was 6:00 a.m. I let my friends have a few more hours of sleep before I started sharing the news with them.

8 days later, while I was still riding that high, I finally received the notice that I was waiting for. My naturalization oath ceremony was scheduled for August 22 - 17 months after I first applied for naturalization.

The Oath Ceremony

You would think that of all the events I would be late to, my own oath ceremony wouldn’t be one of them. I was supposed to arrive at the Los Angeles Convention Center at 7:45 a.m., but I ended up arriving 20 minutes late due to a combination of L.A.-bound traffic and me taking too long to get ready. Not that it mattered very much; the ceremony didn’t start until 9:00 a.m. I briefly met my friend who came out to support me, and she gave me an American flag pin to wear. I signed in with an agent and watched as he reviewed the completed questionnaire on the back of my N-445 (Notice of Naturalization Oath Ceremony), which asked standard questions like whether I had been married or arrested since the interview. He hole-punched my green card and stapled it to the N-445, writing down the number of the table I would have to go to after the ceremony in order to pick up the Certificate of Naturalization.

I took my seat alongside over 3,000 other immigrants being naturalized today and waited, anticipating the start of the ceremony. I was given a small American flag, a welcome letter from Trump, a voter registration form, and an information packet detailing post-ceremony action items such as applying for my passport and visiting a Social Security Office to update my record.

A federal judge came out on stage to administer the Naturalization Oath of Allegiance and officially welcome us as U.S. citizens. Following this were remarks by a USCIS official as well as two videos: a welcome address from Trump and a music video set to Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” After the guests (family and friends of the new citizens) were dismissed, each of us went to our respective tables to pick up our certificate and turn in the voter registration form, the N-445, and our green cards. Our old identities were no more.

I stepped out of the building to be welcomed by my family, able to stand before them as a U.S. citizen.

As grateful as I am to finally be a U.S. citizen, I am even more grateful for the people who helped make this a reality and were there for me every step of the way. I am grateful for my parents, who made the fateful decision over 20 years ago to begin a new life here in the U.S. It wasn’t easy for us to adapt and build that life, and as we found out through this ordeal, it doesn’t get any easier. I am thankful for their courage, faith, and love that raised and led me over my lifetime, and in what I do, I hope to make them proud and make their sacrifices worth it. I am grateful for my brother, who despite being younger looks out for me and supports me. I am grateful to my lawyer, Jeff Shyr of the Law Firm of Anish Vashistha, APLC, for building the best case possible for me, for directing us in our preparation, and fighting for me. His calmness and honesty kept me grounded yet optimistic, and I couldn’t be happier with our decision to hire him as our counsel. If anyone reading this is in need of an immigration lawyer, there’s no one I recommend more than Jeff. I am grateful for my exodus3 church family, who kept me in their prayers and constantly reminded me of not only the identity that I have in Christ, but also my citizenship in the Kingdom of Heaven, which can never be taken away. I am grateful for my friends and colleagues, who were always willing to listen to me speak my feelings out loud (and encouraged me to), asked me for updates, and never ceased to wish me all the best in my case. Thank you, God, for all the incredible people You put into my life, and for Christ, whom I can find rest in. I can’t ask for better.

Citizen

I wish I can be confident that my U.S. citizenship is set in stone. My naturalization experiences lead to me believe otherwise. We are, after all, living under the Trump administration, which actively makes it difficult for immigrants to be naturalized. Even naturalized citizens aren’t safe, as Trump has ramped up efforts to denaturalize individuals. Had my brother and I both been naturalized before, what are the odds that we would have been investigated? What’s the chance that my brother could be investigated now? Thankfully, the employment documents we submitted as part of my appeal are treated as strong evidence, and I believe they can be used again to argue for my brother (and my parents, for that matter) should an investigation ever be an issue.

Sometimes, I don’t think people quite comprehend how tough immigration is. Immigrants are people acting on the the belief that building a new life in America is worth uprooting the one established in another country. Some of them may be from places threatened by drugs, gangs, and violence, so they act out of desperation to escape their unfortunate situations. Others see a country that seems to be teeming with opportunities and forward, upward movement, so they resolve to move there, wanting better for themselves and for their families. Nothing is guaranteed, but they chase the possibilities (which are perhaps even advertised as promises) of building a life in a country known for freedom and opportunity, where they can send their children to good schools, work hard, and eventually, hopefully, calling America their home would be worth the sacrifices made and the money spent. Some put themselves through hell, hoping all the while that the dream becomes reality.

My family came here legally in 1995. Dad worked hard, earning less than he probably would have had he chose to raise us in Korea (I saw those pay stubs). Together, my parents made the decision that Mom would stay at home, making sure that she was a presence in their children’s lives. Money was a concern that I was aware of at a young age. In school, it took me over a year before I was comfortable speaking English. We rented and grew up in three condominiums over the course of nearly 15 years before we finally bought our own house. My brother and I did well in school and went to college, earning our bachelor’s degrees. We are both employed. The four of us are fairly active in our community, particularly in the church. After nearly 25 years of living here in America, we could look at each other and declare that as immigrants, we did it. Our dream became reality. We earned this. It was worth it.

When Jeff told us about the possible threat of being removed from this country, despite everything we went through and everything we gained, it upset me, and it still upsets me now. I love America. I am thankful for what I have been given and what I have experienced. For me, to become its citizen, to be able to vote, is me giving back to America and its people. So when I was denied and now had to contend with a potential worst-case scenario, it was like being told, “You and your family aren’t good enough. Oh, and you have to leave because we don’t want you here.” I guess that to be an immigrant, naturalized or not, is to feel like a stranger even in the place you call home. This is unfortunately something that we can’t ever shake off. However, we are not strangers.

During today’s oath ceremony, I couldn’t help but think of those who aren’t as lucky to be where I was. I couldn’t help but think of those who were removed or face removal and don’t have the money and/or resources they need to fight back (in addition to the $725 N-400 filing fee and $700 N-336 filing fee I paid, there were also the legal fees). As Trump’s face appeared on the giant screens to welcome us as citizens, I couldn’t help but think of the immigrants and people of color (among, of course, many others) whom his administration and followers insult and threaten on a regular basis.

As a U.S. citizen, as an American, I have a duty to look after my fellow people. I intend to fulfill this by not only voting in the 2020 elections, but also speaking up for those who want to call America their home and get told that they’re not good enough. That is the power I have, and I fully intend to wield it.