When Dauda Sesay arrived in the United States after fleeing civil war in Sierra Leone and spending nearly a decade in a refugee camp, citizenship seemed like a distant, almost unimaginable possibility. He was told that if he followed the rules and stayed out of trouble, one day he could apply. That promise — that naturalization would bring protection and belonging — is what convinced him to pursue U.S. citizenship.

“When I raised my hand and took the oath of allegiance, I believed in that promise — that I belonged,” said Sesay, 48, who settled in Louisiana more than 15 years ago and now works as an advocate for refugees and their integration into American society. For him, naturalization was a mutual pledge: he would accept the rights and responsibilities of citizenship, and in return the country would accept him.

But in recent months, as President Donald Trump and his administration have pushed sweeping changes to immigration enforcement and policy, that sense of security among many naturalized citizens has begun to fray. Measures that expand deportations, challenge the scope of birthright citizenship and intensify denaturalization efforts have created anxiety — even among people who long believed their ties to the nation were permanent.

From certainty to unease

What once felt like a solid protection now seems uncertain. Some naturalized citizens worry that routine travel — leaving the country and trying to return, or simply moving within the United States — could expose them to heightened scrutiny or even detention. Stories circulating in communities about U.S. citizens questioned at the border or detained despite proof of citizenship have fed that fear.

Although there is no clear evidence of a widespread increase in denaturalization under the current administration, policy signals and enforcement actions have not reassured everyone. Sesay, for example, no longer travels domestically without his passport, even though he holds a REAL ID with its federally mandated identity checks. “I don’t want to take any chances,” he said.

Immigration enforcement operations — sometimes carried out by masked agents whose authority is not always clear — have at times swept up U.S. citizens. Civil rights groups and community advocates report instances of American citizens being detained during immigration roundups, and at least one person who says he was detained twice by immigration agents has filed federal litigation.

Official moves that amplify fears

Officials have also taken actions that add to the unease. A Department of Justice memo issued this summer signaled a renewed focus on denaturalization for immigrants alleged to have committed crimes or to pose national security threats. And high-profile threats from political leaders — including remarks aimed at individual elected officials — have fueled the sense that citizenship could be contested for political reasons.

That atmosphere has made many naturalized citizens reluctant to speak openly. Multiple community organizations contacted for comment said potential interviewees feared drawing attention to themselves. Sesay was one of the few willing to speak on the record.

Broader echoes of history

The current moment recalls earlier chapters in American history when the meaning and boundaries of citizenship shifted. Citizenship in the United States has expanded and contracted over time — from the early law that limited naturalization to “free white persons,” to the post–Civil War amendments that extended protections, to exclusionary immigration laws of the early 20th century and the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II.

“Political power will sometimes simply decide that a group of people, or a person or a family, isn’t entitled to citizenship,” said Stephen Kantrowitz, a history professor at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. The Constitution names citizenship but does not precisely define it, he noted, and the practical reach of that status has often depended on legal rulings and political will.

Lives caught between promise and uncertainty

For many who arrived as refugees, immigrants or children brought here without legal status, citizenship represented security and acceptance — the hope that the country’s promise applied to them as well. Now, that sense of mutual commitment feels strained for people like Sesay and others who built lives in the United States with citizenship as their anchor.

“The United States of America — that’s what I took that oath of allegiance to,” Sesay said. “Now, inside my home country, I’m seeing a shift. Honestly, that is not the America I believed in when I put my hand over my heart.”

Reporting note: This story draws on interviews with naturalized citizens, community advocates and legal experts on immigration and citizenship. If you have a related personal story to share, please contact our newsroom.

Naturalized U.S. citizens express rising fear as Trump expands immigration enforcement.