How to Become an American Citizen

It took 15 months to change my permanent resident alien status — and I was lucky

Growing up in El Paso, Texas, my family often traveled across the border to visit my mom’s side of the family in Mexico. There, I was doted on by aunts, covertly encouraged to take sips of beer by uncles, and filled with grandpa’s Carne Cruda with a bit of limon. I enjoyed everything about those trips, except the ride back to El Paso — not only did it signal the end of the weekend, it also meant crossing one of the three bridges linking Juarez and El Paso.

The vibration of the car, the heat, and a full stomach made staying awake for the ride home a difficult task, but I often was by the time we crossed into the United States at our chosen checkpoint. My dad would roll down his window while my mom reached into her purse and pulled out four cards: one for each of my parents, one for my brother, and one for me. She’d hand the cards to my dad, who would hand them to the waiting guard. Sometimes the guard gave them right back; other times, he held onto them for a few minutes, peering into the car to make sure the faces matched the photos. He would ask what the purpose of our visit was in English and my dad would respond in kind, telling him in his heavy accent that we were returning from visiting family.

We were always eventually waved away, the gate raising and allowing us to continue home. Those occasions were some of the only reminders I had, growing up, that I was not born in the United States.

We were lucky.

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