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didn’t subside when I looked up and saw a woman walk out from an office crying. My head
flipped to the other end of the room and caught a man getting handcuffed by a guard! Was this
really happening? I had not seen a single smile or a content face. Then, my case number was
called over the intercom.

I opened the door of a secluded office to four well-polished, suited men seated behind a
table in front of me. I felt their eyes and tone of voice judging me. I sensed they thought I was a
straggler playing the government system. I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted them to know
I exemplified a “proud American.” I’m not an outsider; I was simply born outside the country!

“Please have a seat,” one of the men said.
I braved a smile and sat quietly. The oral history exam was first. I clasped my hands
tightly and took a deep breath in. One after the other, I answered correctly. By the sixth question,
I felt undefeated. I had this! Of course I had this. I’ve always had it. Why should I feel any
doubt? I should not let them intimidate me. Who are they to tell me where I belong?
“Our records show that your parents live in another state,” another man said.
The question threw me off guard. I froze for a moment and couldn’t find a way to speak.
Was this a question? Is this a trap?
“Yes?”
I answered with a question! At that moment, I thought I was doomed. Apparently, they
had scooped up something. My hesitation and doubtful answer was going to get me thrown out.
An easy, stupid question! Good God, why! I heard myself breathe in and out.
“Ms. Karolina Cieslak. Please write down the following statement.”
I grabbed a pen, and with a shaky hand wrote down, “I truthfully answered each
question.” My penmanship was nothing compared to what I had scribbled down. I was thankful

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