I shouldn't have to be so scared
In 34 years in this country, I've experienced racism. But I've never felt like I feel this week.

Four months ago I became a citizen of the United States of America. In a crowded room in Charleston, South Carolina, I stood with more than two dozen other Americans-elect, representing more countries than I expected, and repeated the oath of allegiance. The ceremony was led by an unmemorable man in his 30s, who looked comfortable as a bureaucrat. He was cheerful. I believed his smile, even as he stumbled through our names when each of us was called forward to receive our certificate of citizenship.
I’ve lived in this country for 34 years. I pledged allegiance to the flag every day at the public schools I attended. I’ve shot bottle rockets at friends while drinking Budweiser on the fourth of July. On election days, I've been especially envious of my wife, who was born in West Virginia, because she got to vote even though I followed politics with much more fervor. I’ve traveled all over the country, by car and plane. I’m Ethiopian by birth but this country has been my home for 95 percent of my life.
And so I expected the citizenship ceremony to be anticlimactic and overwrought with contrived moments intended to evoke a patriotism I already possessed. I was wrong.