Guest Opinion: Why I’m afraid to apply for a passport in the US

Five years ago, I made the move from Florida to California – a leap of faith in pursuit of opportunity, stability, and community. In that transition, amid boxes and bags and everything new, I lost one of the most important documents I’ve ever held: my certificate of naturalization.

As a naturalized U.S. citizen, this document isn’t just a piece of paper. It’s proof of my status, my rights, and my place in this country. When I filed to replace it, I paid over $500 to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then the pandemic hit, and the already slow process crawled to a halt. It took nearly four years to receive my replacement certificate – a wait marked by delays, red tape, and uncertainty.

You would think that after all that time, the worst would be behind me. But now, as I prepare to embark on a global book tour, I face yet another hurdle: in order to apply for a U.S. passport, I must surrender the one and only copy of that newly reissued certificate.

In theory, this should be a routine step. In practice, it fills me with hesitation and fear.

I am not just a citizen in name – I’ve dedicated my life to public service in the country I proudly call home. I’ve run for public office, been elected, and served in a number of appointed positions over the past 30 years. Most recently, I was appointed as a commissioner on the Sonoma County Commission on Human Rights. I’ve built my career advocating for equity, dignity, and opportunity – for all.

And yet, I’m scared.

I’ve been outspoken about immigration issues, social justice, and human rights policy – not just here at home, but around the globe. As a commissioner and advocate, I’ve raised difficult truths and pushed for accountability. But as a naturalized citizen, I can’t shake the fear that those very truths could be used against me.

If I surrender my naturalization certificate and something goes wrong – if it’s lost, delayed, flagged, or caught in bureaucratic limbo – I could be left without proof of my citizenship. I could be stuck abroad. I could be vulnerable in ways I shouldn’t be, not after 30 years of being an American in every sense of the word.

Naturalized citizens like me shouldn’t be forced to choose between our professional obligations and the security of our citizenship. We shouldn’t have to pause our lives – postpone global opportunities, delay personal travel – because we’re afraid to part with a document that represents the very rights we are supposed to hold equal.

And we certainly shouldn’t have to live in fear that being critical of a presidential administration – or any government for that matter – might put our status at risk.

I am grateful to this country. I believe in its promise. I’ve lived it. I’ve served it. But I also believe no one should be made to feel like a second-class citizen in the country they call home – especially not because they used their voice, upheld their values, or dared to dream beyond borders.

This country gave me opportunity. It gave me a voice. I shouldn’t have to be afraid to use either.

Daniel H. Sohn, who is bisexual, is an American naturalized citizen. He’s a former city councilmember in Haverhill, Florida. He is currently a commissioner on the Sonoma County Commission on Human Rights and consults for a number of chambers of commerce. More information: www.DanielSohn.com