An illustration depicts Sports Editor Liya Taylor stepping into her German roots. Germany adjusted its Nationality Act in 2019 and 2021, allowing descendants of those who fled the country during Nazi rule, like Taylor, citizenship. “Almost 90 years after my great-grandfather left the country in 1936, gaining a United States citizenship, and in doing so, ‘voluntarily’ giving up his German one, my mom applied for citizenship for herself, my brother and me (in 2024),” Taylor wrote. Illustration by Tess van Wagtendonk
Sports Editor Liya Taylor reflects on the complexities of her dual United States-German citizenship.
In January 2024, I became a German citizen even though I’ve never been to Germany.
After adjusting its Nationality Act in 2019 and in 2021, Germany began offering citizenship to descendants of individuals who lost their German citizenship between 1933 and 1945, particularly those forced to flee Nazi persecution.
Almost 90 years after my great-grandfather left the country in 1936, gaining a United States citizenship, and in doing so, “voluntarily” giving up his German one, my mom applied for citizenship for herself, my brother and me.
She described it as both an act of defiance and an act of forgiveness. Defiance against the history that pushed families like mine out and forgiveness toward a country attempting to make amends.
Legally, it was a simple collection of papers, documents and signatures. My mom had to show my great-grandfather’s German address, the date he left Germany and arrived in the U.S., birth certificates for the three of us, proof she had no criminal record and more. But the concept of identity has never felt that straightforward.
I never met my great-grandfather. I don’t speak German. I don’t know what German foods taste like or what the house he left behind looked like.
Being a German citizen doesn’t mean I have to claim a culture I don’t yet understand. Instead, maybe it just means that I have the opportunity to learn.
When I first looked at my new passport, I didn’t suddenly feel European. Instead, I felt curious and unsure, and I realized a sense of belonging doesn’t come through something legal, like citizenship.
This summer, I will be visiting Germany for the first time. I don’t expect to feel at home in a place I’ve never been, but rather to feel like a visitor, since that’s what I am. Nonetheless, I also hope to feel something else: a connection to a history of mine that has always felt distant.
Being a German citizen doesn’t mean I have to claim a culture I don’t yet understand. Instead, maybe it just means that I have the opportunity to learn. My mom might see this passport as defiance and forgiveness, but for me, it’s a question mark that I can now begin to explore.
