5 min readJul 4, 2026 06:55 AM IST
First published on: Jul 4, 2026 at 06:55 AM IST
Millions of Americans breathed a sigh of relief this week when the Supreme Court upheld birthright citizenship in the United States. A 6-3 ruling in the Trump v. Barbara case affirmed a core tenet of America’s constitution. Its reliance on the 1898 ruling in United States v. Wong Kim Ark reminds us that citizenship has always been a contested status for those of us who are not White and male.
For immigrants like me, the ideal of America has always been far from its reality. The win was not guaranteed, and is especially noteworthy coming days before the country marks 250 years of its declaration of independence.
I moved to the United States as an international student, understanding it to be a place of freedom, a place where people could speak their minds and pursue their passions. For decades, this is the story America has told about itself, through its heavy-handed diplomacy and its Hollywood imagery. In fact, as any immigrant can attest, the road to American citizenship — on paper and in practice — is paved with roadblocks: Years-long waiting times and paperwork lost by immigration authorities, or dead ends like denials of legitimate asylum claims.
The most public of these challenges occur in the courts or in the ICE raids that have plagued immigrant communities since January 2025. But in classrooms, at workplaces and on street corners, America reminds us clearly who is American and who is not. There are the seemingly innocent questions of “How do you speak such good English?” or “Where are you from?”. Or, the more devastating time — economically and psychologically — when I couldn’t get a job for months because I had only a work visa and was neither a permanent resident nor a citizen.
From symbolism to substance, belonging is baked into everyday life in the United States: Which holidays are celebrated, which heroes are lauded, which histories are taught. Indian Americans, indigenous people, Black Americans and immigrants are central to the American story but peripheral in most retellings. The rapid pace at which the Donald Trump administration has been able to tear down civil rights is a testament to the tenuous place immigrants and people of colour occupy in America.
How can I celebrate the Declaration of Independence when my independence is decidedly conditional — upon my skin colour, gender, immigration status, and willingness to conform? To do so would be to celebrate invisibility and erasure. In fact, some of the Declaration’s statements against the King of Great Britain could be statements against President Trump. Take for example: “He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalisation of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither…” How perfectly that describes the Trump administration’s approach to immigration. Or this: “He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.” Look to Los Angeles where troops were deployed to quell immigration protests, or to Washington, DC, where they were used in response to claims of high crime. The Declaration continues with making “Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices” and “cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world” and other examples that are parallel with this moment.
Despite these, today is a more hopeful moment. In recognition of America’s milestone, many are organising and documenting new visions for the next 250. Among them is the Declaration of Interdependence, collaboratively created for a country “where everyone can participate, prosper, and reach their full potential.” Or the Declaration of Belonging, in which Errin Haines, award-winning editor at The 19th, a non-profit newsroom, asserts “that our humanity is not conditional — not on wealth, whiteness, gender or citizenship” and that “democracy is only real when it is shaped by and applied to all of us”. Or, as I always say, nothing is guaranteed to us. We must dream it, build it, nurture it.
This week’s ruling on birthright citizenship against the backdrop of the country’s 250th anniversary perfectly symbolises what it means to live in America as an immigrant and woman of colour. With every jubilation comes a warning. When we celebrate navigating immigration bureaucracy to secure citizenship for one of us, we must remember that millions live in fear of deportation. When we are successful in electing new and radical voices, we must remember that they will need to work alongside hundreds of legislators who are beholden to special interests. It is in observing this contradiction that I exercise my authority as an American: By working toward a better version of this country I have adopted, I show my love.
The writer is an adjunct professor at Columbia University and served as New York City’s first Commissioner of Immigrant Affairs
When we celebrate navigating immigration bureaucracy to secure citizenship for one of us, we must remember that millions live in fear of deportation. When we are successful in electing new and radical voices, we must remember that they will need to work alongside hundreds of legislators who are beholden to special interests. (Photo credit: Forbes) 
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