Blue Passport Blues

Not that I am putting a period to the statement that I may not be able to experience the so-called process of "changing citizenship", but for now, I am settled with the idea that I still see myself growing old in our beloved country.

But then reality bites. Even the most patriotic of us sometimes succumb to the most trying circumstances. I have the slighest idea what took place in the life of the author of the post, Ninotchka Rosca. But I guess she too was not able to escape the harshness of reality .

I find most part of the article funny, but my favorite's the last. To those who are contemplating of 'taking the oath', you may perhaps want to read first; to Ms. Rosca, I couldn't agree any better. Truly, reality disappoints.

Plus, you may wish to go through the comments. It created varied and opposing reactions. Cheers!


DESPITE the admonition not to arrive before 7 a.m., 50 people were already lined up before the Brooklyn Courthouse reception. It was 7:05. I had flown to New York from Los Angeles the night before and was to fly back at 4:00 p.m. I was about to take my oath of citizenship. I’d considered postponing but all my Filipino friends screamed: TAKE THE OATH!

The decision to be a US citizen, made after months of angst almost four years ago, morphed into weirdness. First, along with the application for naturalization, one had to list all trips outside the US since becoming a permanent resident. Fortunately, I’d kept all seven of my Philippine passports; the list ran to three pages single-spaced.

Then the questions: have you ever been a prostitute? Not yet. Have you ever been a member of the Communist Party or any of its affiliates? Come to think of it, I REALLY don’t know.

Humor is not an option, a lawyer-friend said, write no. $400 filing fee; $300 for renewal of permanent residency; $70 for biometrics, $1,000 lawyer’s fee.

Three months later I was told to submit to biometrics. Blood sample, DNA swab, lock of hair? Be there at 10:00 a.m. or your application will be considered abandoned. Resistance is futile. At 9:00 a.m., 45 men, women and children shrieking in the cold were lined up before the service center. Smug in what I thought was an appointment, I headed straight for the front door and was promptly sent back to the end of the line.


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