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In A24’s Civil War, a journalist, played by Wagner Moura, pleads with the militiaman, played by Jesse Plemons, who has detained him and his colleagues at gunpoint. “We’re American.” The militiaman replies, “What kind of American?” In a flood of executive orders and proposed bills, the GOP asks U.S. citizens the same question.
This month, Bernie Moreno, a Senate Republican from Ohio, introduced the Exclusive Citizenship Act of 2025, legislation that would compel any U.S. citizen with a second citizenship to choose between the two. Though Moreno’s bill is likely to face heavy resistance due to 14th Amendment protections, it’s a reminder for people like my family and me: Not all U.S. citizenships are created equal.
I was born and raised in the U.S. I’m a U.S. citizen, but I’m also a Spanish citizen through my parents, who were both Spanish citizens when I was born. I never really thought much about my Spanish citizenship. More than anything, I’m American. I grew up watching The Wonder Years, building model planes with my dad, and playing basketball. Plus, my English is a lot stronger than my Spanish. But the more this administration and its acolytes insist I choose, the more fiercely I cling to my heritage.
This isn’t the first time this year that Republicans have reminded me of my family’s second-tier citizenship. Though foiled by the courts so far, this administration has made a concerted effort to end birthright citizenship—the way I became a U.S. citizen—an effort that has made its way back to the Supreme Court. The administration’s plan for birthright citizenship wouldn’t affect me directly, as it wouldn’t be—at least in its current version—retroactive. But it underscores a fundamental truth of this movement’s worldview: How one becomes a U.S. citizen affects the perceived value of said citizenship, which effectively creates tiers of citizenship. (Incidentally, historians and legal scholars consistently cite tiered citizenship as a hallmark of fascist states.)
The Department of Justice has prioritized denaturalization more broadly, as outlined in a June memo. I worry about the implications for people I love, like my wife, my mom, and my sister, all of whom are naturalized U.S. citizens. On paper, I shouldn’t worry. They’re all law-abiding people, and this directive ostensibly aims to ferret out terrorists and criminals.
That’s what this administration said about Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s mission, but the agency’s egregious flouting of due process tells a starkly different story. According to ICE’s own numbers, the majority of migrants in detention have no criminal convictions.
In other words, I don’t trust this administration and its devotees when they say they’re only going after the “bad guys.” It’s clear they think the bad guys are anyone with the temerity to speak another language or identify with another culture. A few days after Moreno introduced this piece of legislation, Donald Trump called Somali immigrants “garbage.”
This White House is hell-bent on upholding an English-speaking monoculture, hence the designation of English as the official language of the United States back in March. There’s no room for another language or another culture. If the bill were to pass, I wonder if special dispensations would be made for Melania Trump and Barron Trump, both of whom are dual citizens.
It all stems from a zero-sum philosophy, to which the author of this proposed legislation subscribes. Born in Colombia and naturalized at 18 years old, Moreno insists: “It’s all or nothing. It’s time to end dual citizenship for good.” Therein lies the crux of our differences: Moreno believes that the only way to be a “true” American is to slough off your heritage and pledge your exclusive loyalty, whereas I, like many others, believe that the U.S. is at its best when it activates all participating cultures—and at its worst when it attempts to homogenize them.
I grew up in a mixed-status household. My parents and my sister lacked legal status when I was growing up. As a child, I was oblivious to their fears and the dangers we faced as a family. Immigration hard-liners would argue that they should’ve followed the law and that I should never have become a U.S. citizen. Well, birthright citizenship is enshrined by the 14th Amendment and the General Amnesty of 1986, passed by the Reagan administration, which both say otherwise. You don’t have to like existing immigration laws. You can work to change or overturn them, but then you have no choice but to admit that this fight isn’t about following existing law.
Immigration hard-liners also like to say that the immigrants should’ve come here the proverbial “right way.” What they don’t realize is that many immigrants do come here the so-called right way. They may live in the United States legally for many years with temporary protections, for so long that they lay down roots, buy homes, and raise children, only to have those protections revoked overnight. Then, suddenly, having never committed a crime, they’re called criminals, subject to government-sanctioned abduction.
That’s the funny thing about rules in this country: They have a nasty habit of suddenly turning on you—especially when, in Republicans’ eyes, you’re not the right kind of American.
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