What do you think?
Rate this book
Citizenship: Notes on an American Myth
A provocative, personal, blazingly intelligent examination of one of the most vexing questions facing the United States Who is, and should be, a citizen?
“[A] fascinating, urgently needed new book.”—Chicago Tribune
“How did ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free’ turn upside down to where we are today? Everyone needs to read this book, citizens and non-citizens alike. Brilliant!”—Sandra Cisneros
“The most comprehensive book on citizenship/immigration I’ve ever read. A must-read!”—Javier Zamora
“The book I have always wanted to read.”—Jose Antonio Vargas
“Personal, profound, engaging, and comprehensive . . . this is an essential book for these contentious times.”—Booklist (starred review)
A MOST ANTICIPATED BOOK OF THE Chicago Review of Books, Autostraddle, Publishers Lunch
In this one-of-a-kind book, Daisy Hernández fiercely interrogates one of the most complicated subjects of contemporary life and citizenship. Braiding memoir, history, and cultural criticism, she exposes the truths and lies of how we define ourselves as a country and a people. Turning to her own family’s stories—her mother arrived from Colombia, while her father was a political refugee from Castro’s Cuba—Hernández shows how the very idea of citizenship is a myth, one of the stories we tell ourselves about the American soul and psyche.
Reframing our understanding of what it means to be an American, Citizenship is an urgent and necessary account of the laws, customs, and language we use to include and exclude, especially those who come from Latin America. With her scholar’s mind and memoirist’s gift for narrative, Hernández weaves a story both personal and national, while reckoning with our country’s ongoing debate about who belongs and providing fresh ways of thinking about citizenship. At once bracing, fearless, and tender, Citizenship is a powerful portrait of one family’s experiences in the borderlands of citizenship and an honest illumination of the country in which we live.
“[A] fascinating, urgently needed new book.”—Chicago Tribune
“How did ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free’ turn upside down to where we are today? Everyone needs to read this book, citizens and non-citizens alike. Brilliant!”—Sandra Cisneros
“The most comprehensive book on citizenship/immigration I’ve ever read. A must-read!”—Javier Zamora
“The book I have always wanted to read.”—Jose Antonio Vargas
“Personal, profound, engaging, and comprehensive . . . this is an essential book for these contentious times.”—Booklist (starred review)
A MOST ANTICIPATED BOOK OF THE Chicago Review of Books, Autostraddle, Publishers Lunch
In this one-of-a-kind book, Daisy Hernández fiercely interrogates one of the most complicated subjects of contemporary life and citizenship. Braiding memoir, history, and cultural criticism, she exposes the truths and lies of how we define ourselves as a country and a people. Turning to her own family’s stories—her mother arrived from Colombia, while her father was a political refugee from Castro’s Cuba—Hernández shows how the very idea of citizenship is a myth, one of the stories we tell ourselves about the American soul and psyche.
Reframing our understanding of what it means to be an American, Citizenship is an urgent and necessary account of the laws, customs, and language we use to include and exclude, especially those who come from Latin America. With her scholar’s mind and memoirist’s gift for narrative, Hernández weaves a story both personal and national, while reckoning with our country’s ongoing debate about who belongs and providing fresh ways of thinking about citizenship. At once bracing, fearless, and tender, Citizenship is a powerful portrait of one family’s experiences in the borderlands of citizenship and an honest illumination of the country in which we live.
8 pages, Audible Audio
First published February 17, 2026
About the author
Daisy Hernández
19 books152 followersDaisy Hernández is the author of the nonfiction book Citizenship: Notes on an American Myth, which Booklist calls “an essential book for these contentious times.” Her nonfiction book The Kissing Bug: A True Story of a Family, an Insect, and a Nation’s Neglect of a Deadly Disease won the 2022 PEN /Jean Stein Book Award and was selected as an inaugural title for the National Book Foundation’s Science + Literature Program. She is the author of the memoir A Cup of Water Under My Bed and coeditor of the feminist anthology Colonize This! She is an Associate Professor at Northwestern University.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 106 reviews
March 12, 2026
highly rec if you are also worried about the current language around citizenship
March 10, 2026
Was mostly interested until the last hour of the audiobook where the author went on a tangent on the “genocide” in Gaza which had almost nothing to do with the rest of the book. I thought this would be more scholarly and instead was mostly a memoir of the author’s very strong opinions. Unless you have the exact same views as her on every topic, you probably don’t want to read or listen to the audiobook.
December 25, 2025
The author explores the concept of citizenship and how it has morphed with time and world and domestic events. She focuses on how the US has viewed citizenship, its corresponding laws, and why they were enacted. Her writing style is engaging because she combines her personal experience and others’ anecdotes with facts and historical events. For example, Hernandez is the daughter of a Colombian mother and Cuban father, and she continuously explains the challenges and opportunities her parents and other family members faced as immigrants who eventually became citizens of the United States. I found the book to be interesting, informative, and engaging.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Ironic Downfall. Seriously, how much more ironic can you get than a book about citizenship being felled by... *a lack of documentation*????
To be clear, there are *many* more issues with this book. The biggest being that it is marketed as a critical and intellectual examination of the concept of citizenship (which is intriguing and deserves to be written about)... and instead what we actually get is a racist memoir that openly proclaims that the entire concept of citizenship was created whole cloth in the US in the 19th century to keep the brown person down and give the evil white man a way to exclude brown people while claiming to be objective. Seriously.
Now, maybe that last bit is something you tend to agree with. Even there, you should be pissed off at this book because it doesn't even begin to try to objectively make this case. Further, when you make an extraordinary claim such as what this book proposes, the Sagan Standard applies and extraordinary evidence is expected - yet there is next to no documentation, clocking in at just 8% of the Advance Review Copy that I've had for four months before finally reading it just weeks before publication.
All of this noted, it actually was rather intriguing as a personal memoir of one person's thoughts and experiences on the subject at hand. So yes, *as a personal memoir*, this book works much better than as any form of objective intellectual endeavor, and from the memoir angle it really is a compelling read of one person's thoughts.
But that's not what this is being marketed as, at least at this stage. At this stage, it is being marketed as much as a scholarly work as memoir, and as a scholarly work this book utterly fails in every conceivable respect.
Still, read this book as a memoir. Please. Hernandez has a clear and rare voice, and her story needs to be heard. I just wish she had put as much effort into integrating it into an actual objective examination of the topic as she did in expressing how evil the white man is.
Recommended.
To be clear, there are *many* more issues with this book. The biggest being that it is marketed as a critical and intellectual examination of the concept of citizenship (which is intriguing and deserves to be written about)... and instead what we actually get is a racist memoir that openly proclaims that the entire concept of citizenship was created whole cloth in the US in the 19th century to keep the brown person down and give the evil white man a way to exclude brown people while claiming to be objective. Seriously.
Now, maybe that last bit is something you tend to agree with. Even there, you should be pissed off at this book because it doesn't even begin to try to objectively make this case. Further, when you make an extraordinary claim such as what this book proposes, the Sagan Standard applies and extraordinary evidence is expected - yet there is next to no documentation, clocking in at just 8% of the Advance Review Copy that I've had for four months before finally reading it just weeks before publication.
All of this noted, it actually was rather intriguing as a personal memoir of one person's thoughts and experiences on the subject at hand. So yes, *as a personal memoir*, this book works much better than as any form of objective intellectual endeavor, and from the memoir angle it really is a compelling read of one person's thoughts.
But that's not what this is being marketed as, at least at this stage. At this stage, it is being marketed as much as a scholarly work as memoir, and as a scholarly work this book utterly fails in every conceivable respect.
Still, read this book as a memoir. Please. Hernandez has a clear and rare voice, and her story needs to be heard. I just wish she had put as much effort into integrating it into an actual objective examination of the topic as she did in expressing how evil the white man is.
Recommended.
March 16, 2026
This collection of essays gives you lots to ponder on the on the actual meaning of citizenship, the intent to four founding fathers, and how its application has evolved over the years. I also appreciated the global perspective on how other countries view citizenship. The historical research and author's family perspective made for both an interesting and informative read. Definitely a must-read in today's political climate for those seeking understanding.
I also took a listen to the audiobook and found the author pleasing to listen to.
Thank you to Random House | Hogarth and NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.
I also took a listen to the audiobook and found the author pleasing to listen to.
Thank you to Random House | Hogarth and NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.
February 20, 2026
I want to give this book to every single human to read. Daisy turns complex topics into such an accessible and important piece of literature.This book is a perfect blend of facts and statistics to root us in reality, and personal elements and stories that give it heart and humanity. Love love love
June 8, 2026
Using anecdotes from her own life, and her family history as a starting point the author explores the concept of citizenship as a social, political, cultural and economic construct in the United States. She discusses how it affects aspects of people’s lives such as access to health care, and interactions with the police.
Although race, color, and sexual affinity form overarching themes uniting much of the subject matter as the author approaches each topic under discussion, the book is choppy as it jumps from one subject to another. It lurches from one to the next, and then often circles back again to a subject that was previously discussed earlier in the book. Occasionally it plows into the weeds on a topic. More often it skims the surface as the author seeks to cover as much ground as possible in a limited amount of space and time.
The book ends by descending into an extraneous riff and tirade on politics. Its discussion of the Gaza War and claims of genocide have no link or relationship to the subject of the book, American citizenship. It also shows no understanding of the events on October 7th or sympathy for its victims, that led to the war and the humanitarian crisis. Both are to be equally condemned, not only one.
Although race, color, and sexual affinity form overarching themes uniting much of the subject matter as the author approaches each topic under discussion, the book is choppy as it jumps from one subject to another. It lurches from one to the next, and then often circles back again to a subject that was previously discussed earlier in the book. Occasionally it plows into the weeds on a topic. More often it skims the surface as the author seeks to cover as much ground as possible in a limited amount of space and time.
The book ends by descending into an extraneous riff and tirade on politics. Its discussion of the Gaza War and claims of genocide have no link or relationship to the subject of the book, American citizenship. It also shows no understanding of the events on October 7th or sympathy for its victims, that led to the war and the humanitarian crisis. Both are to be equally condemned, not only one.
April 21, 2026
I received a digital galley of this book from NetGalley for review. WOW! I learned a lot and am trying to not feel disheartened. Will add more later...
April 27, 2026
4.5 rounded up to a 5.0. Highly personal memoir of being an immigrant in present day United States as well as a summary of citizenship history in the United States and other countries. I couldn't put it down. Lots of food for thought.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Thank you Random House and NetGalley for the Advanced Reader's Copy!
Available February 2026.
Daisy Hernandez's Citizenship is an intriguing and moving exploration of what the term means politically, personally, socially, and more. The book ties Hernandez's personal life story with larger sociopolitical movements and policies. Hernandez makes a compelling case that the concept citizenship has always been a transient goalpost and has been weaponized in the United States to harm Black and brown communities. Hernandez doesn't shy away from the complications of "white" Latinidad and the growing community of Latinx MAGA supporters, she tells their stories with equal parts of care and curiosity, while still holding space for the harm created. Strongly recommend!!
Available February 2026.
Daisy Hernandez's Citizenship is an intriguing and moving exploration of what the term means politically, personally, socially, and more. The book ties Hernandez's personal life story with larger sociopolitical movements and policies. Hernandez makes a compelling case that the concept citizenship has always been a transient goalpost and has been weaponized in the United States to harm Black and brown communities. Hernandez doesn't shy away from the complications of "white" Latinidad and the growing community of Latinx MAGA supporters, she tells their stories with equal parts of care and curiosity, while still holding space for the harm created. Strongly recommend!!
August 9, 2026
I was invited to read/review this by the publisher [Random House/Hogarth] and I thank them, Daisy Hernandez, and NetGalley for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
September 28, 2026
This book has some interesting ideas and thoughts about people and how they should be treated, but they didn't all tie together and they didn't all seem to tie to any definition of citizenship. Much of it is memoir, which has the advantage of being interesting though it also leads off onto separate tracks that never come together. The jumps to different ages, different geographies, different countries, and different times obscured the point and led me to feel untethered over and over again. The author's interest in dual citizenship in a country that she has never lived in, made me feel that she didn't really know what citizenship meant either.
December 18, 2025
A personal narrative that is rooted in sociology, data, local stories, and a firsthand account of the immigrant experience. This is Daisy’s story, but it is also about the history of a push for whiteness in America. A full-scale analysis of the way the American dream harms the lives of many non-white Americans. What does it mean to be a citizen of the United States beyond a social construct? A well researched, annotated and constructively written narrative for 2026.
There are boundaries drawn with imaginary lines to decide who gets to decipher the breadth of citizenship within the quarters. Citizenship would not be inherently harmful if it meant inclusivity for all. Daisy dissects the whiteness plague that permeates as the norm for being a model citizen in America. This is a story that challenges the status quo with real data and sociological perspectives. A fantastic read to understand what it means to abide by harmful social constructs. Thank you, Daisy Hernández, Netgalley, and Hogarth publishing for this advanced digital copy. All opinions are my own.
For more recommendations, impressions, and tarot readings, visit my blog, http://brujerialibrary.wordpress.com
There are boundaries drawn with imaginary lines to decide who gets to decipher the breadth of citizenship within the quarters. Citizenship would not be inherently harmful if it meant inclusivity for all. Daisy dissects the whiteness plague that permeates as the norm for being a model citizen in America. This is a story that challenges the status quo with real data and sociological perspectives. A fantastic read to understand what it means to abide by harmful social constructs. Thank you, Daisy Hernández, Netgalley, and Hogarth publishing for this advanced digital copy. All opinions are my own.
For more recommendations, impressions, and tarot readings, visit my blog, http://brujerialibrary.wordpress.com
September 2, 2026
While I felt the author had a few blindspots based on her own political beliefs, I'm still giving this 5 stars because of how much she's able to accomplish in a very digestible book. Her core argument is that citizenship is absolutely as much of a construct as race is, with similarly harmful results, and within her support she manages to connect major phases of history from the past 300 years, deeply personal stories of her Colombian mother and Cuban father (as well as many other relatives), and memoir elements of her own experience as a queer woman in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.
June 27, 2026
Ain’t that the truth
March 12, 2026
Slow moving in some parts, but for the most part, this was interesting to me.
March 30, 2026
4.5 stars. There were several things I didn’t agree with or saw differently but lots of good perspectives to contemplate.
September 14, 2026
Solid read that I’d recommend to anyone who wonders about the language around citizenship, immigration quotas, etc. It really opened my eyes to what it’s like to grow up in a country where the goal posts for belonging shift throughout your life. It also explored how arbitrary census tracking of different races is. One of my favorite concepts explored in this book was the idea that the construct of citizenship does the work of racial discrimination. Reading this broadened my horizons in how I think about how I think and speak about these topics. The narrative structure and personal anecdotes added color to a history that can be complex and confusing.
October 13, 2026
I really thought this was an insightful book positioning ideas and connections to citizenship that I had not considered in the past. I would recommend to read it.
May 16, 2026
This memoir/general history gave me a new perspective on citizenship. Great storytelling woven into what is quite frankly an unbelievable history. But I shouldn’t be surprised by America’s racist history! Sometimes it really just smacks you in the face!
September 29, 2026
As an immigrant myself, much of this book was both eye-opening and nostalgic for me. Hernandez outlines the different ways "citizen" and "ethnicity" have impacted our laws, past and present, and how ideas of citizenship have changed over time. Both historical and political, it offers a lens through which we can examine our own biases about citizenship or immigrants.
September 16, 2026
This book is a memoir not a book on citizenship.
August 3, 2026
Interesting essays on different facets of citizenship and its interplay with race / nationality
April 2, 2026
Rating: 4* of five
The Publisher Says: A provocative, personal, blazingly intelligent examination of one of the most vexing questions facing the United States today—who is, and should be, a citizen?
“How did ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free’ turn upside down to where we are today? Everyone needs to read this book, citizens and non-citizens alike. Brilliant!”—Sandra Cisneros
"The most comprehensive book on citizenship/immigration I've ever read. A must-read!"—Javier Zamora
In this one-of-a-kind book, Daisy Hernández fiercely interrogates one of the most complicated subjects of contemporary life and citizenship. Braiding memoir, history, and cultural criticism, she exposes the truths and lies of how we define ourselves as a country and a people. Turning to her own family's stories—her mother arrived from Colombia, her father a political refugee from Castro's Cuba—Hernández shows how the very idea of citizenship is a myth and part of the stories we tell ourselves about the American soul and psyche.
Reframing our understanding of what it means to be an American, Notes on Citizenship is an urgent and necessary account of the laws, customs, and language we use to include and exclude, especially those who come from Latin America. With her scholar's mind and memoirist's gift for narrative, Hernández weaves a story both personal and national, while reckoning with our country's ongoing debate about who belongs and providing fresh ways of thinking about citizenship. At once bracing, fearless, and tender, Notes on Citizenship is a powerful portrait of one family's experiences in the borderlands of citizenship and an honest illumination of the country in which we live.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.
My Review: The Supreme Court has heard oral arguments on the deeply contentious topic of ending the age-old concept of "birthright citizenship," very much in the current regime's sights for elimination. Based on the Justice's tenor of questioning the Justice Department's counsel, I don't feel the regime can count on the ruling being in their favor.
This collection of essays has as its core a desire to think through how citizenship has changed in practice. The US Constitution defines citizenship in the Fourteenth Amendment, and it's pretty unambiguous about it. (That same amendment gifted us with the legal horror of corporate personhood.) It's been a longstanding desire of racist, fascist scum to make the idea of citizenship into a conditional grant...which, if anyone though about it for a single minute, would mean there's no citizenship for anyone at all.
Author Daisy thinks through the various ramifications of this terrible idea. Once a right is "granted" it can be taken away. That is why every time a law is passed that limits a right, like birthright citizenship, you...you personally...are at risk of losing whatever right it is. If this kakistocracy has not taught you the lesson that believing "they wouldn't/can't do that" is a dangerous illusion, read Author Daisy's essays. They can, and they will, and even court orders will not force the scum to cease and desist from illegal, immoral behavior. Look how many losses in court have been dealt the regime; yet no sign of meaningful compliance, compliance with the *intent* of the orders and laws, exists. This is, in other words, a coup against the form of government we take for granted.
Read these essays, even though the collection feels thematically scattered, because each essay is very clearly argued, and makes excellent points. It is a slowly unfolding disaster but it is unfolding...it's time to pull your socks up and do the work of citizenship.
Follow Author Daisy's example.
The Publisher Says: A provocative, personal, blazingly intelligent examination of one of the most vexing questions facing the United States today—who is, and should be, a citizen?
“How did ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free’ turn upside down to where we are today? Everyone needs to read this book, citizens and non-citizens alike. Brilliant!”—Sandra Cisneros
"The most comprehensive book on citizenship/immigration I've ever read. A must-read!"—Javier Zamora
In this one-of-a-kind book, Daisy Hernández fiercely interrogates one of the most complicated subjects of contemporary life and citizenship. Braiding memoir, history, and cultural criticism, she exposes the truths and lies of how we define ourselves as a country and a people. Turning to her own family's stories—her mother arrived from Colombia, her father a political refugee from Castro's Cuba—Hernández shows how the very idea of citizenship is a myth and part of the stories we tell ourselves about the American soul and psyche.
Reframing our understanding of what it means to be an American, Notes on Citizenship is an urgent and necessary account of the laws, customs, and language we use to include and exclude, especially those who come from Latin America. With her scholar's mind and memoirist's gift for narrative, Hernández weaves a story both personal and national, while reckoning with our country's ongoing debate about who belongs and providing fresh ways of thinking about citizenship. At once bracing, fearless, and tender, Notes on Citizenship is a powerful portrait of one family's experiences in the borderlands of citizenship and an honest illumination of the country in which we live.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.
My Review: The Supreme Court has heard oral arguments on the deeply contentious topic of ending the age-old concept of "birthright citizenship," very much in the current regime's sights for elimination. Based on the Justice's tenor of questioning the Justice Department's counsel, I don't feel the regime can count on the ruling being in their favor.
This collection of essays has as its core a desire to think through how citizenship has changed in practice. The US Constitution defines citizenship in the Fourteenth Amendment, and it's pretty unambiguous about it. (That same amendment gifted us with the legal horror of corporate personhood.) It's been a longstanding desire of racist, fascist scum to make the idea of citizenship into a conditional grant...which, if anyone though about it for a single minute, would mean there's no citizenship for anyone at all.
Author Daisy thinks through the various ramifications of this terrible idea. Once a right is "granted" it can be taken away. That is why every time a law is passed that limits a right, like birthright citizenship, you...you personally...are at risk of losing whatever right it is. If this kakistocracy has not taught you the lesson that believing "they wouldn't/can't do that" is a dangerous illusion, read Author Daisy's essays. They can, and they will, and even court orders will not force the scum to cease and desist from illegal, immoral behavior. Look how many losses in court have been dealt the regime; yet no sign of meaningful compliance, compliance with the *intent* of the orders and laws, exists. This is, in other words, a coup against the form of government we take for granted.
Read these essays, even though the collection feels thematically scattered, because each essay is very clearly argued, and makes excellent points. It is a slowly unfolding disaster but it is unfolding...it's time to pull your socks up and do the work of citizenship.
Follow Author Daisy's example.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Citizenship is Daisy Hernandez’s exploration of how we perceive the way we and others belong and are accepted into various groups, though primarily as desired members of a country, and most specifically the United States.
In a country that seems to increasingly seem intolerant of people that could be deemed other, the book is certainly timely. Hernandez focuses most heavily on the immigrant throughout the book but also emphasizes that things that we self categorize are factors too.
I like the idea of exploring this and there are parts of the book that were enlightening and conveyed the strongest message to me. The differences between how a person identifies themselves and how society does can be completely different. Hernandez writes about Latinx as a demographic that can encompass people that look very different from each other but share values. Hernandez uses a poignant example of having a boy visit her at home that was Dominican, and it enraged her Cubano father who looked white because he saw the boy as Black. The boy was hurt and confused because he saw himself as Dominican and would not have described himself as Black, a racial group that still struggles against discrimination to this day.
Hernandez also provides a great explanation for something that continues to confound me, which is why people vote for and support political and public figures that would happily have nothing to do with them or show them the metaphorical door. I tend to think from the perspective of that person and whether they would have my best interests in mind, not as an ideal or someone who be so focused on targeting others that I wouldn’t be of interest to them. Despite being frustrating from my view, and quite likely not in their best interests, it explains a lot.
Hernandez explains that citizenship as a construct is not limited to legal status in a country but can also be defined in ways such as politically, economically, socially and culturally.
There were bigs sections of the book that I struggled to get into. I’m not sure if the intended audience is people that have felt left out of a type of citizenship and validating their experiences or raising awareness in those that never or rarely have those experiences. I would say that I fall more into the latter category, but I think Hernandez kind of wrote it for both, which left me struggling to follow the train of thought, especially at the start of the book. There are swings back and forth between personal anecdotes, research by subject matter experts and historical precedents set.
One of the forms of citizenship Hernandez addresses is that for queer people, a group of people who Hernandez identifies with. This absolutely makes sense and provides valuable perspective, but the chapter takes up almost a quarter of the book, making the chapter feel like a slog to get through in comparison to the length of the other chapters, and perhaps assigning a heavier weight to addressing it.
Non-fiction books addressing contemporary and social issues are in a difficult position of raising awareness without superiority. I think Hernandez mostly succeeds in accomplishing this but I struggled to engage and be interested, which is another vital factor in getting people to read non-fiction. I think citizenship and what it means is a valuable thing to discuss, but I struggled to engage with how it was presented throughout portions of this book.
A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
In a country that seems to increasingly seem intolerant of people that could be deemed other, the book is certainly timely. Hernandez focuses most heavily on the immigrant throughout the book but also emphasizes that things that we self categorize are factors too.
I like the idea of exploring this and there are parts of the book that were enlightening and conveyed the strongest message to me. The differences between how a person identifies themselves and how society does can be completely different. Hernandez writes about Latinx as a demographic that can encompass people that look very different from each other but share values. Hernandez uses a poignant example of having a boy visit her at home that was Dominican, and it enraged her Cubano father who looked white because he saw the boy as Black. The boy was hurt and confused because he saw himself as Dominican and would not have described himself as Black, a racial group that still struggles against discrimination to this day.
Hernandez also provides a great explanation for something that continues to confound me, which is why people vote for and support political and public figures that would happily have nothing to do with them or show them the metaphorical door. I tend to think from the perspective of that person and whether they would have my best interests in mind, not as an ideal or someone who be so focused on targeting others that I wouldn’t be of interest to them. Despite being frustrating from my view, and quite likely not in their best interests, it explains a lot.
Hernandez explains that citizenship as a construct is not limited to legal status in a country but can also be defined in ways such as politically, economically, socially and culturally.
There were bigs sections of the book that I struggled to get into. I’m not sure if the intended audience is people that have felt left out of a type of citizenship and validating their experiences or raising awareness in those that never or rarely have those experiences. I would say that I fall more into the latter category, but I think Hernandez kind of wrote it for both, which left me struggling to follow the train of thought, especially at the start of the book. There are swings back and forth between personal anecdotes, research by subject matter experts and historical precedents set.
One of the forms of citizenship Hernandez addresses is that for queer people, a group of people who Hernandez identifies with. This absolutely makes sense and provides valuable perspective, but the chapter takes up almost a quarter of the book, making the chapter feel like a slog to get through in comparison to the length of the other chapters, and perhaps assigning a heavier weight to addressing it.
Non-fiction books addressing contemporary and social issues are in a difficult position of raising awareness without superiority. I think Hernandez mostly succeeds in accomplishing this but I struggled to engage and be interested, which is another vital factor in getting people to read non-fiction. I think citizenship and what it means is a valuable thing to discuss, but I struggled to engage with how it was presented throughout portions of this book.
A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Thanks to NetGalley & Random House for the ARC!
Daisy Hernández’s Citizenship: Notes on American Myth eviscerates the idea that citizenship is a neutral or stable status.
After all, status implies hierarchy, and hierarchy precludes neutrality.
Citizenship is a perfect book for anybody who would insist that people immigrate “the right way” because, as the author explores, there is no “right way” for the “wrong people.” Early on, she notes that “the construct of citizenship does the work of race,” and that could almost be the book’s thesis. It's a polite and palatable way to create an "other." Drawing on both personal and cultural history, Hernández explores how the notion of citizenship is slippery because it changes each time “us and them” needs to be redefined for political purposes. She considers all of the ways colorism, wealth, gender, and sexuality influence someone’s eligibility for citizenship, often highlighting a disconnect between legal status and social status. Does paperwork matter if perception doesn’t change?
These aren’t new ideas, but Hernández frames them in uniquely approachable and personal terms, so the material is well-equipped to rebut readers who hide behind the callous safety of their political talking points. When the author explores how much immigration is a reaction to colonialism, the point feels intuitive and earned. Of course someone would seek out the stability of life in the United States, even when—maybe especially when—the US is responsible for the instability in their home country. As she writes, “The worst moments inside the empire were better than those at the edges.”
I’ve seen a fair amount of criticism that Hernández "doesn’t write objectively,” and frankly, I’m a bit baffled by it. First, the book is well-sourced when it needs to be, and second, the author’s whole premise is that citizenship is not an objective reality—it’s a story of competing subjectivities shaped by whoever has the most power at a given time. It exists only in flux. Why would you ask someone to write “empirically” under the shadow of the empire?
That said, I don’t think Citizenship is without its weaknesses, slight as they may be. For the most part, Hernández does an excellent job of synthesizing all of the ways life “on paper” doesn’t align with reality, but the last few chapters don’t quite get the cohesion they deserve. For example, “Queer Kin” attempts to situate queerness within the concept of citizenship, but it feels muddled in whether it’s about mainstream social citizenship, legal citizenship, or immigration. It almost feels like the start of a separate book that would serve as a companion piece to Citizenship. Similarly, the final chapter, “The People,” spirals chaotically through dual citizenship, social mobility, the cost of citizenship, and the early days of Trump’s second term. Again, it’s engaging material, but the lack of focus obscures its purpose.
Overall, though, Citizenship is an exceptional read, and it’s the kind of book that shouldn’t have to exist. It’s timely, thought-provoking, and a reminder that if you see politics as cut and dried, you’re probably the one holding the knife.
Daisy Hernández’s Citizenship: Notes on American Myth eviscerates the idea that citizenship is a neutral or stable status.
After all, status implies hierarchy, and hierarchy precludes neutrality.
Citizenship is a perfect book for anybody who would insist that people immigrate “the right way” because, as the author explores, there is no “right way” for the “wrong people.” Early on, she notes that “the construct of citizenship does the work of race,” and that could almost be the book’s thesis. It's a polite and palatable way to create an "other." Drawing on both personal and cultural history, Hernández explores how the notion of citizenship is slippery because it changes each time “us and them” needs to be redefined for political purposes. She considers all of the ways colorism, wealth, gender, and sexuality influence someone’s eligibility for citizenship, often highlighting a disconnect between legal status and social status. Does paperwork matter if perception doesn’t change?
These aren’t new ideas, but Hernández frames them in uniquely approachable and personal terms, so the material is well-equipped to rebut readers who hide behind the callous safety of their political talking points. When the author explores how much immigration is a reaction to colonialism, the point feels intuitive and earned. Of course someone would seek out the stability of life in the United States, even when—maybe especially when—the US is responsible for the instability in their home country. As she writes, “The worst moments inside the empire were better than those at the edges.”
I’ve seen a fair amount of criticism that Hernández "doesn’t write objectively,” and frankly, I’m a bit baffled by it. First, the book is well-sourced when it needs to be, and second, the author’s whole premise is that citizenship is not an objective reality—it’s a story of competing subjectivities shaped by whoever has the most power at a given time. It exists only in flux. Why would you ask someone to write “empirically” under the shadow of the empire?
That said, I don’t think Citizenship is without its weaknesses, slight as they may be. For the most part, Hernández does an excellent job of synthesizing all of the ways life “on paper” doesn’t align with reality, but the last few chapters don’t quite get the cohesion they deserve. For example, “Queer Kin” attempts to situate queerness within the concept of citizenship, but it feels muddled in whether it’s about mainstream social citizenship, legal citizenship, or immigration. It almost feels like the start of a separate book that would serve as a companion piece to Citizenship. Similarly, the final chapter, “The People,” spirals chaotically through dual citizenship, social mobility, the cost of citizenship, and the early days of Trump’s second term. Again, it’s engaging material, but the lack of focus obscures its purpose.
Overall, though, Citizenship is an exceptional read, and it’s the kind of book that shouldn’t have to exist. It’s timely, thought-provoking, and a reminder that if you see politics as cut and dried, you’re probably the one holding the knife.
Want to Read
March 21, 2026AUTHOR
Daisy Hernández (born May 23, 1975) is an American writer, essayist, memoirist, and journalist. Her work focuses on the intersections of race, ethnicity, immigration, class, and sexuality. She began her career in journalism, writing for Ms. magazine, going on to serve as editor of ColorLines magazine and reporting for the New York Times, National Geographic, The Atlantic, and Slate.
Her father was a political refugee from Cuba, her mother came from Colombia, and she has uncles from Peru and Puerto Rico. She grew up in New Jersey in the 1970s and 1980s. She also co-edited the anthology <>, and published her memoir <> in 2014 and<> in 2021. She is currently (2026) an associate professor of creative writing at Northwestern University.
REVIEW
PERSONAL NOTES - SPOILERS
INVITATIONS.
In 1981, Daisy, age 6, started recording her mother's stories. Her mother never spoke of visas or green cards. She spoke only of invitations: to come from Columbia to the United States, to share an apartment with her sister, to get legal documents, to get married, to become a U.S. citizen (in a white Cuban community).
This framing — citizenship as an "invitation" rather than a legal status — is central to the story of Citizenship. The chapter draws on her family's personal experiences to interrogate how the idea of citizenship functions as a kind of myth, a story Americans tell themselves ABOUT WHO BELONGS.
In the 21st Century, the meaning of citizenship has expanded beyond its confines in international law and electoral politics. It has become A PROXY for belonging, identity, or community. It can define someone, e.g., a citizen-scientist. It can serve as shorthand for duties one has to a particular com-mutiny.
With decolonization, race became less important as a barrier to immigration. Other-citizenship becomes the bar. Race was the basis for citizenship until the Fourteenth (and Nineteenth) Amendment(s). You had to be white (and male). Restrictive laws followed passage of these Amendments: the exclusion of Native Americans until 1924, the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882, and racial quotas favoring white Europeans.
The need for labors kept the borders "open" from Central and Latin American. In place of exclusion, the U.S. instituted controlling regulations to monitor workers so they could deport them when their labor was no longer needed. The Border Patrol was created in 1924 and more than a million Mexicans and Mexican-Americans were deported during the Great Depression, About 60% were American citizens, mostly birth-right citizens.
The 1965 Hart-Celler Act ended racial quotas favoring white Europeans immigrants but also capped the number arrivals from the Americas. Immigrant documentation became increasingly important.
The U.S. hid covert anti-communist operations in Central America in the 1970s and 1980s, including in El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Guatemala. More than 300,000 people died and the operations created a new class of immigrants - political refugees, "brown" immigrants.
In the 21st Century, women, people of color, and members of the LQBTQ+ community demanded the full rights of citizens. The idea of "good citizens" was/is used as a control tool (my words.)
“States' Rights" create a new class of citizen, state-based. Citizenship rights vary by state. Divisive: "we do not live in the same country. We do not have the same citizenship."
Immigrant Responsibility Act of 1996 (the "Latino Exclusion Act") limits new arrivals and provides the basis for "expedited removal." It created more "mixed status" families whose members have different citizenship status. Non-factual criminal activity was linked to citizenship status. ["The worst of the worst" (my comment).]
This was a historical practice. Blacks and mass incarceration. War on drugs. The justification: “It is not about race; it is about criminality". The obsession with citizenship surged after 9/11.
Today, citizenship legally has two sources: soil (where you were born) or blood (the nationality of your parents.) Republicans have been trying to eliminate the soil basis since 1995, so citizenship is only granted to those whose parents are citizens or legal residents. This would dismantle the Fourteenth Amendment. "We did not reason our way into birthright citizenship." We fought a war over it.
Citizenship is a social construct, a mythology, that "requires and sustains white supremacy."
AJEDREZ. (Chess)
Elementary perception. Citizenship: membership, right to live in …. duty to defend, a status. Later learned that the practice of citizenship was different than the theory. You can have citizenship and still be treated badly. “Limited citizenship” - denied basic necessities like healthcare and food.
“Refugee crisis" refers to blacks and browns. Six million, mostly white, refugees from Ukraine "does not inspire similar headlines about a refugee crisis." 2020 facts: <4% live outside the country where they were born.
Grecian origins (Aristotle - excludes women, slaves, foreigners). Pericles' Citizenship Law: citizens have two citizen parents - women were citizens. U.S. adopted Aristotle framing. "White men had found a story they wanted to tell."
Stories. The vocabulary of citizenship began in cities. Biblical story of Paul, a citizen of Rome.
Jefferson replaced "subject" with "citizen" to describe the relationship between the people and the government. "Subjects" implies a duty to the monarch. "Citizen" implies a share in the sovereignty of a nation. The Constitution mentions "citizen" eleven times, primarily in relation to pragmatic matters, i.e., eligibility for office. The Bill of Rights speaks only of "the people." Examples of state's conditions, i.e., gender, property ownership.
“Green card" - an almost-citizen. Stories pp 68 ff.
Daisy Hernández (born May 23, 1975) is an American writer, essayist, memoirist, and journalist. Her work focuses on the intersections of race, ethnicity, immigration, class, and sexuality. She began her career in journalism, writing for Ms. magazine, going on to serve as editor of ColorLines magazine and reporting for the New York Times, National Geographic, The Atlantic, and Slate.
Her father was a political refugee from Cuba, her mother came from Colombia, and she has uncles from Peru and Puerto Rico. She grew up in New Jersey in the 1970s and 1980s. She also co-edited the anthology <>, and published her memoir <> in 2014 and<> in 2021. She is currently (2026) an associate professor of creative writing at Northwestern University.
REVIEW
PERSONAL NOTES - SPOILERS
INVITATIONS.
In 1981, Daisy, age 6, started recording her mother's stories. Her mother never spoke of visas or green cards. She spoke only of invitations: to come from Columbia to the United States, to share an apartment with her sister, to get legal documents, to get married, to become a U.S. citizen (in a white Cuban community).
This framing — citizenship as an "invitation" rather than a legal status — is central to the story of Citizenship. The chapter draws on her family's personal experiences to interrogate how the idea of citizenship functions as a kind of myth, a story Americans tell themselves ABOUT WHO BELONGS.
In the 21st Century, the meaning of citizenship has expanded beyond its confines in international law and electoral politics. It has become A PROXY for belonging, identity, or community. It can define someone, e.g., a citizen-scientist. It can serve as shorthand for duties one has to a particular com-mutiny.
With decolonization, race became less important as a barrier to immigration. Other-citizenship becomes the bar. Race was the basis for citizenship until the Fourteenth (and Nineteenth) Amendment(s). You had to be white (and male). Restrictive laws followed passage of these Amendments: the exclusion of Native Americans until 1924, the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882, and racial quotas favoring white Europeans.
The need for labors kept the borders "open" from Central and Latin American. In place of exclusion, the U.S. instituted controlling regulations to monitor workers so they could deport them when their labor was no longer needed. The Border Patrol was created in 1924 and more than a million Mexicans and Mexican-Americans were deported during the Great Depression, About 60% were American citizens, mostly birth-right citizens.
The 1965 Hart-Celler Act ended racial quotas favoring white Europeans immigrants but also capped the number arrivals from the Americas. Immigrant documentation became increasingly important.
The U.S. hid covert anti-communist operations in Central America in the 1970s and 1980s, including in El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Guatemala. More than 300,000 people died and the operations created a new class of immigrants - political refugees, "brown" immigrants.
In the 21st Century, women, people of color, and members of the LQBTQ+ community demanded the full rights of citizens. The idea of "good citizens" was/is used as a control tool (my words.)
“States' Rights" create a new class of citizen, state-based. Citizenship rights vary by state. Divisive: "we do not live in the same country. We do not have the same citizenship."
Immigrant Responsibility Act of 1996 (the "Latino Exclusion Act") limits new arrivals and provides the basis for "expedited removal." It created more "mixed status" families whose members have different citizenship status. Non-factual criminal activity was linked to citizenship status. ["The worst of the worst" (my comment).]
This was a historical practice. Blacks and mass incarceration. War on drugs. The justification: “It is not about race; it is about criminality". The obsession with citizenship surged after 9/11.
Today, citizenship legally has two sources: soil (where you were born) or blood (the nationality of your parents.) Republicans have been trying to eliminate the soil basis since 1995, so citizenship is only granted to those whose parents are citizens or legal residents. This would dismantle the Fourteenth Amendment. "We did not reason our way into birthright citizenship." We fought a war over it.
Citizenship is a social construct, a mythology, that "requires and sustains white supremacy."
AJEDREZ. (Chess)
Elementary perception. Citizenship: membership, right to live in …. duty to defend, a status. Later learned that the practice of citizenship was different than the theory. You can have citizenship and still be treated badly. “Limited citizenship” - denied basic necessities like healthcare and food.
“Refugee crisis" refers to blacks and browns. Six million, mostly white, refugees from Ukraine "does not inspire similar headlines about a refugee crisis." 2020 facts: <4% live outside the country where they were born.
Grecian origins (Aristotle - excludes women, slaves, foreigners). Pericles' Citizenship Law: citizens have two citizen parents - women were citizens. U.S. adopted Aristotle framing. "White men had found a story they wanted to tell."
Stories. The vocabulary of citizenship began in cities. Biblical story of Paul, a citizen of Rome.
Jefferson replaced "subject" with "citizen" to describe the relationship between the people and the government. "Subjects" implies a duty to the monarch. "Citizen" implies a share in the sovereignty of a nation. The Constitution mentions "citizen" eleven times, primarily in relation to pragmatic matters, i.e., eligibility for office. The Bill of Rights speaks only of "the people." Examples of state's conditions, i.e., gender, property ownership.
“Green card" - an almost-citizen. Stories pp 68 ff.
September 29, 2026
Where to begin with this one?
Citizenship by Daisy Hernández was an interesting read, but ultimately, it wasn’t my favorite—and I think a lot of that came down to the perspective from which the book was written.
First, the things I loved: I absolutely adored that she called her partner “My Sweetie.” ❤️ Every single time she mentioned My Sweetie, it gave me the warmest, sweetest little feeling. I don’t know why, but I just thought it was so cute.
I also appreciated that this book explores citizenship as something much broader than simply immigration status. Hernández dives into different ideas of citizenship and belonging through race, gender, sexuality, family, identity, and other aspects of what it means to feel like you belong—or don’t belong—in a particular place or community. Some of those discussions were genuinely interesting and gave me things to think about.
Where I struggled was with the perspective and tone.
I completely understand that Hernández is examining these issues through her own experiences, her family’s stories, and the additional research she did into those stories. And I respect that this is her perspective. However, I found myself disagreeing with some of the conclusions she seemed to draw, particularly surrounding immigration and what citizenship should look like.
I tend to fall somewhere more in the middle politically, depending on the issue, and I felt that this book leaned considerably farther left than my own views. That’s not inherently a problem—I actually enjoy reading books that challenge my perspective—but I prefer when a book presents multiple sides and allows me to wrestle with the issue myself.
At times, I felt like Citizenship was presenting Hernández’s interpretation as the correct interpretation, while other perspectives— including those of members of her own family—were treated as though they were simply misguided or uninformed. That was difficult for me because I tend to appreciate books that acknowledge the complexity of an issue and allow room for people to arrive at different conclusions.
The immigration discussion was especially complicated for me. I understand the argument she is making about people who have established lives, families, and communities here, and I can absolutely understand the human side of that argument. At the same time, having lived through the immigration process myself, I know firsthand how many requirements, sacrifices, and steps are involved in immigrating legally. Because of that experience, I found myself frustrated at times by the way legal immigration and undocumented immigration seemed to be discussed.
Ultimately, this just wasn’t a book that completely clicked for me. Especially coming off American Dirt and having read books like Solito, I found myself wishing this story had affected me more emotionally or offered a more nuanced exploration of the subject.
That said, I’m glad I read it. I think there is value in reading books that challenge your own perspective—even when you don’t agree with everything in them. And Citizenship definitely gave me things to think about.
Citizenship by Daisy Hernández was an interesting read, but ultimately, it wasn’t my favorite—and I think a lot of that came down to the perspective from which the book was written.
First, the things I loved: I absolutely adored that she called her partner “My Sweetie.” ❤️ Every single time she mentioned My Sweetie, it gave me the warmest, sweetest little feeling. I don’t know why, but I just thought it was so cute.
I also appreciated that this book explores citizenship as something much broader than simply immigration status. Hernández dives into different ideas of citizenship and belonging through race, gender, sexuality, family, identity, and other aspects of what it means to feel like you belong—or don’t belong—in a particular place or community. Some of those discussions were genuinely interesting and gave me things to think about.
Where I struggled was with the perspective and tone.
I completely understand that Hernández is examining these issues through her own experiences, her family’s stories, and the additional research she did into those stories. And I respect that this is her perspective. However, I found myself disagreeing with some of the conclusions she seemed to draw, particularly surrounding immigration and what citizenship should look like.
I tend to fall somewhere more in the middle politically, depending on the issue, and I felt that this book leaned considerably farther left than my own views. That’s not inherently a problem—I actually enjoy reading books that challenge my perspective—but I prefer when a book presents multiple sides and allows me to wrestle with the issue myself.
At times, I felt like Citizenship was presenting Hernández’s interpretation as the correct interpretation, while other perspectives— including those of members of her own family—were treated as though they were simply misguided or uninformed. That was difficult for me because I tend to appreciate books that acknowledge the complexity of an issue and allow room for people to arrive at different conclusions.
The immigration discussion was especially complicated for me. I understand the argument she is making about people who have established lives, families, and communities here, and I can absolutely understand the human side of that argument. At the same time, having lived through the immigration process myself, I know firsthand how many requirements, sacrifices, and steps are involved in immigrating legally. Because of that experience, I found myself frustrated at times by the way legal immigration and undocumented immigration seemed to be discussed.
Ultimately, this just wasn’t a book that completely clicked for me. Especially coming off American Dirt and having read books like Solito, I found myself wishing this story had affected me more emotionally or offered a more nuanced exploration of the subject.
That said, I’m glad I read it. I think there is value in reading books that challenge your own perspective—even when you don’t agree with everything in them. And Citizenship definitely gave me things to think about.
October 7, 2026
I've been watching my country slowly crumble around me and this book clarified some of the ways it's all being justified. As a senior citizen I remember a time when I would never have believed the things that are happening now could ever be possible. The very word immigration had always had positive connotations for me since my mother was a genealogist and had traced our roots back to William the Conqueror. She knew what counties in Ireland parts of our family came from and where they entered the United States. She discovered relatives here in America who showed up at our family reunions, which she began when I was a teenager. At one of those reunions 99 of us showed up. Our connection to Ireland was kept alive through family stories and several family members visited Ireland and met cousins there. I understood from my mother that the Irish were also treated terribly when they came here but I think the whiteness of the Irish helped them become accepted as citizens.
.
It was so hard to read how people who came here for safety and opportunity were, and still are, being treated as the enemy. I hate what's happening and I am afraid for what the Trump administration will do in his remaining years in office. I am afraid of the world he is creating for the younger members of my family. I honestly don't know if America will survive as a democracy. This breaks my heart. We used to be proud of being the melting pot. Now, so many Americans seem to hate everyone else, including other Americans. My great Uncles and Great Aunts served in WWII. They fought to prevent the very things that are happening now. When I see America repeating the events that occurred before WWII I am afraid. In about 6 weeks the 2026 midterm elections will be held. I am afraid of the outcome.
I can't say that I enjoyed this book for the very simple reason that it just adds to my fears of the future. There is a lot I've learned from the information in it about the games played with semantics to advance the agendas of powerful people. People really need to educate themselves and not give so much power to others. We are supposed to be a government of the people, by the people. However, we've become complacent, allowing people to stay in "public servant" positions for decades. They now serve to serve themselves, not us. They make laws that benefit their preferred communities. This makes it so easy to prevent the people they decide are the "wrong kind" from entering the country. They use their powerful roles to foment fear of the other. I can't imagine what it would be like to be in the Rio Grande, fighting for my life, or sitting in a detainment center in a place far away. I am so ashamed that my country is doing this. I've been an extensive reader all my life. Books like this make me aware of the fact that there is always so much that I don't know. I've, yet again, added to my store of knowledge and I will do my part in the coming election to put my two cents in, for what it's worth.
People, read this book. It can only open your eyes.
.
It was so hard to read how people who came here for safety and opportunity were, and still are, being treated as the enemy. I hate what's happening and I am afraid for what the Trump administration will do in his remaining years in office. I am afraid of the world he is creating for the younger members of my family. I honestly don't know if America will survive as a democracy. This breaks my heart. We used to be proud of being the melting pot. Now, so many Americans seem to hate everyone else, including other Americans. My great Uncles and Great Aunts served in WWII. They fought to prevent the very things that are happening now. When I see America repeating the events that occurred before WWII I am afraid. In about 6 weeks the 2026 midterm elections will be held. I am afraid of the outcome.
I can't say that I enjoyed this book for the very simple reason that it just adds to my fears of the future. There is a lot I've learned from the information in it about the games played with semantics to advance the agendas of powerful people. People really need to educate themselves and not give so much power to others. We are supposed to be a government of the people, by the people. However, we've become complacent, allowing people to stay in "public servant" positions for decades. They now serve to serve themselves, not us. They make laws that benefit their preferred communities. This makes it so easy to prevent the people they decide are the "wrong kind" from entering the country. They use their powerful roles to foment fear of the other. I can't imagine what it would be like to be in the Rio Grande, fighting for my life, or sitting in a detainment center in a place far away. I am so ashamed that my country is doing this. I've been an extensive reader all my life. Books like this make me aware of the fact that there is always so much that I don't know. I've, yet again, added to my store of knowledge and I will do my part in the coming election to put my two cents in, for what it's worth.
People, read this book. It can only open your eyes.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This book, to me, felt different than how it is marketed and confused me at first. I had expected more of a scholarly look at citizenship and the myths around it in the U.S., as it’s a relevant issue yet one that so few Americans truly understand. But, this book is more a memoir of the author’s and her reflection on the concept of citizenship and experiences related to immigration of her family and as a general issue. Into that, she throws in random research and facts. Often she presents her own opinion on things and leaves it there. While I agreed on what her opinions were and have the same, I had expected to see research and analysis that backed it up. She mentioned at one point the concept of removing birthright citizenship retroactively and identified one country that did so. I was very interested in this topic considering the current administration’s desire to start doing this, but this was another topic where she mentioned a country that had done it but then failed to follow it up with further analysis of the outcome and implications which I thought had been the point of bringing it up.
Looking at this book through the lens of it being the author’s own reflections made it better. It still seemed a bit unorganized at times, and it seemed to lack an overarching message that tied everything together except for the concept that citizenship is a social construct. This was challenging for me to process, again maybe because when I went into this I was thinking of the concrete concept of how people gain citizenship in the U.S. But the idea of it as a construct was interesting and, along with other concepts, I did find things to mull over in this book. Specifically, I found myself spending time on the concept of statelessness which I hadn’t thought much about before and of how healthcare is tied to degrees of “citizenship”.
I found myself extremely frustrated with her depictions of certain family members who are not/ were not citizens but who support the current administration. Calling it irony, especially in today’s landscape, is a massive understatement. While I’m glad she shared these stories for the purpose of helping us understand how closeness to whiteness and to the patriarchy impacted these individuals, I just found those stories to be so irredeemable and would have liked some type of follow up in terms of points of argument, maybe, since there was apparently no change or realizations in the people depicted. Instead, I left with validation of frustration that I already had.
The word “citizenship” is used throughout this book but it’s not used in the concrete sense. This book is the author’s reflections on her interpretations of what citizenship is. I thought the topic was interesting, and I might recommend it to someone who is looking to read different experience and perspectives of it. But this would not be for someone looking for a more academic piece or to explore the issues of it within our country today.
Looking at this book through the lens of it being the author’s own reflections made it better. It still seemed a bit unorganized at times, and it seemed to lack an overarching message that tied everything together except for the concept that citizenship is a social construct. This was challenging for me to process, again maybe because when I went into this I was thinking of the concrete concept of how people gain citizenship in the U.S. But the idea of it as a construct was interesting and, along with other concepts, I did find things to mull over in this book. Specifically, I found myself spending time on the concept of statelessness which I hadn’t thought much about before and of how healthcare is tied to degrees of “citizenship”.
I found myself extremely frustrated with her depictions of certain family members who are not/ were not citizens but who support the current administration. Calling it irony, especially in today’s landscape, is a massive understatement. While I’m glad she shared these stories for the purpose of helping us understand how closeness to whiteness and to the patriarchy impacted these individuals, I just found those stories to be so irredeemable and would have liked some type of follow up in terms of points of argument, maybe, since there was apparently no change or realizations in the people depicted. Instead, I left with validation of frustration that I already had.
The word “citizenship” is used throughout this book but it’s not used in the concrete sense. This book is the author’s reflections on her interpretations of what citizenship is. I thought the topic was interesting, and I might recommend it to someone who is looking to read different experience and perspectives of it. But this would not be for someone looking for a more academic piece or to explore the issues of it within our country today.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 106 reviews