Manchester, Connecticut, U.S.A. – America’s worst moments often spark a glimmer of hope.
On July 9, 1868, people of color in all states finally became U.S. citizens of the country they had given so much for. The 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution – which includes birthright citizenship – gave U.S. citizenship to every formerly enslaved person and nearly everyone who was born on U.S. soil.
This allowed everyone who had been held in bondage to be recognized as an American citizen, to have the same legal rights as their white counterparts.
I find it fascinating how an action created more than 156 years ago created such a large identity that all Americans of color share.
I took the 14th Amendment for granted. I didn’t truly realize the magnitude of the work it did, not just for my rights, but even more so for my identity.
Without birthright citizenship, I find myself asking, who truly would I be?
When I was born in Connecticut, my parents were Ghanaian immigrants, legally living and working in the U.S.
I never felt that I didn’t belong in America. To me, my country represented a place of many cultures, ideas, races and personalities. The stamp of being American gave me pride and belonging.
I belong to the country where I was born and raised. With its many cultures, the U.S. is a large part of my identity.
I couldn’t figure out who I would be without being American.
Yet on January 20, the day of his inauguration, President Donald Trump signed an executive order that purported to take away birthright citizenship from children like me.
If Trump’s order holds – and many states are suing to block it – a person born on U.S. soil would not become a citizen unless one of their parents were.
When I heard the news of the president’s order while sitting at my coffee table, watching the news, the country I felt I belonged to suddenly became a place where I felt alone and isolated.
The removal of birthright citizenship changed my view of America. Without the different races and cultures that I loved, it would become soulless.
I couldn’t figure out who I would be without being American.
If I had been born in America at a time when birthright citizenship didn’t exist, I would not be American, even though I was born and raised here with its cultures and ideals. Yet I wouldn’t fully be Ghanaian as I wasn’t raised there, either.
I would be displaced, a child with nowhere to claim as their home, nowhere I truly belonged.
Trump’s actions made me realize what I had taken for granted – the actual impact birthright citizenship had on me and my identity as a person and human being, and what it meant for the American I thought I knew.
Birthright citizenship represented an America that was a land of many cultures and identities working together to proudly make our country better.
If America takes away birthright citizenship, what will the rest of us become?
U.S. District Judge John C. Coughenour, in a February 6 ruling, wrote, “Citizenship by birth is an unequivocal Constitutional right.” The judge granted a nationwide injunction that put the president’s order on hold for further review.
As one looks into the past to gain hope for the future, I find myself thinking about former President Abraham Lincoln and the strength he had when he pushed for the 13th Amendment that liberated African Americans from slavery. It eventually led to the 14th Amendment.
As alone as we all feel, caught in a loop deciding who we truly are, this loneliness shows how citizenship is a large part of our identity.
When I returned to school and talked with other first generation Americans who, like me, were feeling isolated, we realized that we are not alone.
Trump’s order wrecked me, but he can’t erase me.
I am an American.
Malaika Brefo is a Junior Reporter with Youth Journalism International from Connecticut, U.S.A.. She wrote this commentary.
Elodie Cockerell is a Junior Reporter and Illustrator with Youth Journalism International from the UK. She made the accompanying illustration.
