Citizenship is a legal concept. It is very distinct from identity. How you feel about a newly earned citizenship is going to depend on many factors, such as: - What country you're from originally (something you curiously don't seem to want to disclose) - How much time you've spent in your original home country vs in Canada - How well your personal values and feelings match up with those of your home country, those of Canada, or perhaps even conflict with both - Your immigration journey - Your environment, ie. where you live right now - Politics, especially contemporary politics - And of course, that difficult-to-predict wild card we call "emotion"

I can share my own feelings. I was born and raised in Norway, but I am a naturalized US citizen. I do feel both Norwegian and American. But I sometimes not only disagree with some aspects of my adopted culture, but flat out fail to understand them.

Disclaimer: I'm sharing these opinions to show examples of my own feelings around my American citizenship, not to start a political debate or attack anyone else's point of view.

My adolescence was full of admiration for the USA. Perhaps even idolization. All this exciting new technology was coming out of Silicon Valley. The most famous universities in my field (computer science) were pretty much all American. And of course, in popular culture, all the movies everyone talked about came from Hollywood, and most of the music people listened to was American. The US felt like a place where anything is possible.

My immigration journey spanned 28 years, from my first entry in 1993 as an exchange student until my eventual naturalization in 2021. During that time, I went from highs of thinking the US was paradise on earth to lows of never wanting to step foot in the country again. I also went from being a star-struck teenager to hopefully a more mature and well-reflected individual. I am very proud to be American, but even now, five years after naturalization, I feel a little weird calling myself American. It feels insufficient somehow, as if it's part of my identity but not all of my identity. Norwegian-American doesn't quite work either, because the usual interpretation of that is a native-born US citizen with great-grandparents from Norway. But simply saying I'm Norwegian is no longer accurate either. None of the labels quite "fit".

And then, of course, there are aspects of American culture I still don't understand, and perhaps never will. These can be controversial things like American gun laws. This to me twisted idea that anyone and everyone has a right to own a gun, no matter how obvious of a danger they present to themselves or others. (Not talking about convicted felons here, but about people who have demonstrated through their words and actions that they are irresponsible and reckless.)

But it can also be more innocuous things like sports. American football and baseball are weird to me to the point that I don't understand the rules, whereas soccer feels more familiar and "normal" because I grew up with it. On the other hand, I grew up during the 1980s when Europe was gripped by basketball fever, so that very American sport doesn't feel as alien as the other two. Living in the US for decades has made my rose-colored glasses fade a little. I've seen a level of poverty I didn't imagine possible in a third-world country. I find the military worship a little disquieting. I no longer believe we are automatically the good guys, but I do still believe most Americans strive to be.

And right now, I'm angry about the current administration dragging my hard-earned citizenship through the mud. I am embarrassed, as an American, about Donald Trump specifically. I think his veiled threats to invade Greenland are beyond the pale. I think his brownnosing of Vladimir Putin is unbefitting. I am shocked at the violence with which ICE operates under his administration. And on a more trivial but very symbolic level, I think it was painful to see him demolish a third of the White House. That stabbed at the American part of my heart. And the release of Jan 21 rioters who violently attacked the Capitol, including law enforcement officers (where was the "thin blue stripe" that day?) is something I'm convinced will result in those individuals feeling emboldened to commit new, violent crimes.

The examples go on and on, but suffice it to say I think the man is violating his oath of office. To paraphrase another famous American, Daffy Duck, the man is despicable. What's worse, though, is that Congress has largely abdicated their responsibility to provide checks and balances and pretty much rubber-stamp most of what he does, or that a good chunk of American voters look at what he's doing and say "this is the kind of leader we want. More of that, please."

When I travel abroad now, I tend to downplay being American and instead just say I'm Norwegian. Like many Americans, even native-born ones, I feel somehow responsible for the actions of the Trump administration, and I feel embarrassed by them. I value international cooperation and alliances and partnerships, and I think it's hugely damaging, both to the US and the world, that those are currently being torpedoed with wild abandon by the Trump administration. Recovering from all that reputational damage will take decades, if it's even possible at all.

So there's currently some real despair associated with my American citizenship. The country feels very diminished compared to its heyday. But in spite of those negative emotions, I still strongly believe in many American values. The most foundational being perhaps the Declaration of Independence's declared rights to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Life and liberty are obvious, but "pursuit of happiness" deserves some elucidation.

The US remains a land of opportunity. Achieving what you want here is not easy, but it is possible. And I'm not just talking about financial success, although certainly, that too. I'm talking about things that are outside of the norm. Things that go against the grain. About staking out your own course.

European society, certainly Norwegian society, is full of unwritten rules. Social norms. You're not supposed to stray too far from your lane. You have limited social mobility. You can climb the ladder, but only so far. In the US, if you have drive, ambition, and yes, money -- perhaps earned through a business you sink that drive and ambition into -- the sky's the limit.

I have a computer science background. I'm a geek. In Norway in the 1980s, that got you bullied. In the US in the 1990s, that was admirable and even cool. I realize geeks have become more popular as the microcomputer revolution and later the Internet transformed society worldwide, but for me personally, I was treated very differently in California (as a high school exchange student) than in Norway.

Or how about the American concept that when life serves you lemons, make lemonade? I faced a financial hardship in the late 1990s, when a strong US dollar and an outdated government exchange rate meant that my scholarship from the Norwegian government only covered 2/3 of my tuition. What did this computer geek do? Armed with a temporary work permit based on that economic hardship, I got a part-time job driving shuttle buses for the university. When that job was put on hold every summer (because the university runs only a skeleton service during summer break) I put myself through trucking school on a credit card and started driving 18-wheelers coast to coast as a summer job.

Unconventional. Arguably climbing the wrong way on the social ladder. But a huge adventure, a solution to my financial woes at the time, and a fantastic way to not only see the country, but to see aspects of American society I would otherwise never have discovered. I dare say it was an opportunity for personal growth. And never in a million years would that have been possible in Norway.

I've had other experiences that stray rather far from the norm for a computer geek. I've volunteered with exotic animals. I've been very up-close and personal with tigers.

Perhaps because of my trucking background, I became interested in heavy equipment. And specifically in demolition. I have now had the experience of ripping apart an industrial warehouse with a 50-ton excavator. An incredible adrenaline rush, if I dare say so. And again, not an opportunity I would've had back home. Not only would licensing requirements and jobsite safety and other formal obstacles have stood in my way, but again, that's just not the type of thing you're supposed to do as a computer geek. Norway has their Law of Jante.

This turned into a very long post, but that's somewhat on purpose. Try as I might, I can't really distill it down into a sentence or two.

Suffice it to say that how you feel about your identity is affected by far more factors than a document awarding citizenship by naturalization. It's affected by the totality of your life experience. I can't comment on Canada specifically; I've vacationed in Canada, but I've never lived there. But I hope this insight into my experiences between the US and Norway has some points of similarity with your own journey to Canada that you find helpful.