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The American Story, Renewed in 1,293 Voices
Magazine, The Immigrant Experience
The summer sun warmed the steps of Pasadena’s Civic Auditorium on June 26, 2025, as families gathered with flags, flowers, and hearts full of pride. Inside, the hush was reverent, almost sacred. A judge stepped forward. A court official took the podium. And 1,293 immigrants from 82 countries became Americans—not by birthright, but by choice.
“This moment represents your journey,” the court official declared. “Some of you left behind everything familiar… to be part of this great nation.” Their words echoed not just in the high arches of the hall but in the hearts of every new citizen present. Among them were six who had already taken on one of the nation’s highest responsibilities: military service. Standing tall as their names were called—Chavain Carty, Lopez Signy, Ricky Rojas, Alisa Fedasoni, Ku Yun Singh, and Natrila Bartley—they represented not just national defense, but the immigrant will to protect the home they chose.
In a room filled with applause, hope, and trembling joy, this moment was a reminder that citizenship is not given—it is earned. It is built through sacrifice, through longing, and through a determination that spans oceans and generations.
For many, this day marked the culmination of years of uncertainty and effort. For Tokeny, born in the United Kingdom to Nigerian parents and raised in the U.S. since she was eight, it was about validation. “I’m so happy… it was worth it,” she told The Immigrant Magazine. Her first act as a citizen? Registering to vote. “I’m going to do that today before I leave,” she said, grinning with a relief that spoke volumes.
Voting was a recurring refrain. Presiding Judge Scarcity left no room for doubt: “There are no hyphens or asterisks to your citizenship. You are just as American as anyone whose ancestors signed the Declaration of Independence.” The message was clear—citizenship confers full ownership in the American story. The challenge: show up. Not just on Election Day, but every day.
Anthony Paul, a Coptic Orthodox monk from Canada with Egyptian roots, framed it with spiritual clarity: “Becoming an American by choice means you have conviction.” For him, democracy only works when citizens participate. “If we don’t vote, if we don’t participate, then we’re not really citizens.” His journey from the monastery to the voting booth exemplifies the fusion of faith, voice, and civic responsibility.
For Olivia, a new citizen originally from Mexico, the path was steep but fulfilling. “We all come here with a dream… continue to strive,” she said. Her resolve spoke directly to the millions still in limbo, those navigating the labyrinth of legal residency. Her citizenship isn’t just a personal milestone—it’s a beacon for others. Asked about the undocumented, she offered this: “We’re all here with a dream. Don’t give up. Keep striving.”
Then came Elisha Fedasoni from Burundi, a U.S. Marine who waited 20 years for this moment. “It’s one of the most amazing feelings ever,” he said. Having served the nation in uniform, his citizenship adds a deeper layer of meaning. It’s a reminder that many immigrants defend American ideals long before they are officially welcomed into its fold. “It means everything,” Elisha said. “I’ve been serving this country—now it’s finally official. I belong.”
Behind the celebration stood volunteers like Joe Lisuzzo, helping new citizens register to vote. A second-generation Italian American and longtime civic advocate, Joe believes informed participation is essential. “If you’re dissatisfied… look who’s in power in your area,” he advised. While his political views leaned right, his message transcended partisanship: don’t just vote—vote informed. “Research your candidates. Understand the issues. This democracy is only as good as its voters.”
Joe, who grew up in Chicago and now lives in West Los Angeles, traced his own family’s immigrant story back to Europe. “My grandparents came here with nothing but dreams. That’s why I do this. I want every new American to understand—they have a voice now. Use it.”
Ceremonies like these are often overlooked in the broader narrative of American civic life. But they matter—immensely. Every oath spoken, every flag waved, adds new color to the American mosaic. Judge Scarcity’s words drove that home: “The threads of your cultures and traditions are not distinct from the American fabric. They are the American fabric.”
Today’s naturalization ceremonies occur against a complex political backdrop. As immigration policy continues to evolve—amid debates on border control, pathways to citizenship, and refugee resettlement—these new citizens stand as a living testament to what is still possible in America. Their stories remind us that behind the headlines are human beings: teachers, nurses, students, soldiers, and neighbors.
According to the Department of Homeland Security, more than 878,500 people were naturalized in 2023, part of a long tradition of immigration shaping American growth. A 2022 Pew Research study found that immigrants and their U.S.-born children accounted for 26% of the total population—a powerful indicator of how central immigration is to the country’s future.
But it’s not just about numbers. It’s about what these individuals bring to the national table. Skills. Traditions. Perspectives. Empathy earned through adversity. America doesn’t just benefit from immigration—it relies on it.
That reliance, however, exists alongside growing skepticism. In recent years, rising misinformation and inflammatory rhetoric have painted immigrants as burdens or threats—narratives that often ignore data and lived realities. Deportation fears, especially among mixed-status families, continue to haunt communities. The Migration Policy Institute reported in 2024 that over 10 million undocumented immigrants live in the U.S., many of them with U.S.-citizen children. Without pathways to citizenship, these families remain in limbo.
The stakes have only heightened under the second Trump administration, which has intensified its focus on enforcement and removals. By April 2025, the administration claimed roughly 140,000 deportations, with 37,660 deportations in just the first month—a monthly figure higher than the 2024 average under the Biden administration. In a disturbing twist, some American citizens were mistakenly detained and deported, drawing sharp criticism. Green card holders, student visa holders, and even TPS recipients have found themselves caught in a widening net once focused only on violent offenders, now sweeping up many simply for being in process. The fear is palpable.
Against this climate, the naturalization ceremony brought not only joy but also relief. A kind of exhale. “It feels like I can finally breathe,” said one new citizen, who declined to give her name. “There’s so much uncertainty right now. But today, I know I’m safe.”
Despite this, days like June 26 offer a counter-narrative—one rooted in resilience. “I know it’s not easy,” said Olivia. “But we have to keep going. That’s what this country is about.”
The ripple effect of this day is real. These 1,293 new citizens will bring change, not through spectacle, but through service: launching businesses, joining school boards, mentoring youth, and volunteering at polls. Some may run for office. Others may write books, start nonprofits, or build bridges—literal and figurative.
This is what democracy looks like: not static, but stirring. Not perfect, but persistent. Not closed, but evolving. And as Judge Scarcity said, “This country did not become great in spite of its diversity, but because of its diversity.”
Pasadena’s ceremony reminds us that citizenship is not the end of a journey, but the beginning of a new one. One where the most powerful words are not those spoken by officials, but by new citizens who now carry the mantle forward. They are the next entrepreneurs, teachers, voters, veterans, and voices in a democracy constantly renewing itself.
On June 26, 2025, America got stronger. Not because of a speech, but because 1,293 people stood up, raised their right hands, and said, I choose this nation. I choose this future.
Stay proud, stay grounded, stay true. Your story matters.
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