EDITORIAL: Trump is coming for naturalized citizens like me

The quiet denaturalization push that could strip millions of their rights

In recent months, a chilling memo from the Trump Department of Justice has made one thing unmistakably clear: the administration is laying the groundwork for a new chapter of political targeting, this time through a civil process that threatens the very essence of what it means to be a U.S. citizen. The memo urges attorneys to aggressively pursue denaturalization—the revocation of citizenship from naturalized Americans, ostensibly to rid the country of those who obtained it through fraud or who committed serious crimes. But the language is broad, the process opaque, and the implications deeply disturbing.

Denaturalization isn't just about immigration enforcement. It’s about control, about sending a message to millions of Americans: “You may have a passport, but you are not safe.” When wielded selectively, it becomes a weapon against critics, immigrants, and anyone viewed as politically inconvenient. And that is exactly where this appears to be headed.

As a naturalized citizen who immigrated from Argentina at the age of five, I, like millions of others, once believed that becoming a citizen was the end of the story. I swore an oath to the Constitution. I paid my taxes. I voted. I believed that with citizenship came equal protection under the law. But that belief is being shaken.

The Trump DOJ’s new approach targets crimes broadly defined under "national security," "fraud," or worse, anything "deemed significant enough" to justify denaturalization. Such language is tailor-made for abuse. And here’s the kicker: the DOJ is treating this not as a criminal process—which would guarantee the accused legal representation and a high burden of proof—but as a civil one. That means no right to a lawyer. That means a lower burden of proof. That means the government can strip your citizenship based on bureaucratic discretion and force you to defend your entire life in court—alone.

The result? A fast-tracked, government-sanctioned mechanism to purge individuals not based on actions, but on vulnerability. If you’re naturalized, you don’t have the same protection as someone born here. You are now subject to retroactive scrutiny, and potentially, exile.

This isn’t theoretical. In the McCarthy era, denaturalization was used to purge political dissidents and so-called “undesirable” citizens. It took a 1967 Supreme Court ruling to curb the practice, affirming that all citizens—naturalized or natural-born—should be treated equally under the law. But the new Trump directive throws that principle out the window. Once again, the U.S. government is signaling that some Americans are more American than others.

This two-tiered system raises urgent questions about due process, equal protection, and the weaponization of the state against dissent. If you can strip someone of citizenship for any reason deemed important enough—especially without providing them a lawyer—what’s to stop the government from targeting its critics? From turning immigrants into political scapegoats?

And that’s where the threat becomes personal.

I’ve faced harassment before. I’ve been targeted online, smeared by MAGA media, even dragged into viral attacks by Donald Trump Jr. But this feels different. This time it’s not just rhetoric—it’s legal. This time they’re writing the rules that could come knocking at my door. Not metaphorically—literally.

If this policy expands unchecked, we could see journalists, activists, or critics—anyone not born on U.S. soil—made to fear deportation. We could see families torn apart. Children born here could watch their parents removed on technicalities from decades ago. If the government can go after Elon Musk’s citizenship, they can absolutely come after mine.

What’s happening now is not about national security. It’s not about law and order. It’s about power—about redrawing the boundaries of who gets to belong. And in doing so, it’s about softening the ground for something even more dangerous: a government that punishes political dissent by revoking your right to belong to the country you call home.

As for me, I can’t predict whether they’ll knock on my door. But I can predict this: if they do, the show will go on. I’ll broadcast from Argentina if I have to. I’ll find a camera. I’ll find a microphone. And I’ll keep telling you what’s happening, because that’s what this moment demands.

But the truth is, no one should have to choose between speaking freely and staying in their home country. No one should live in fear that their citizenship is conditional.

If America is to live up to its promise, it must reject this dangerous regression. Citizenship should not be provisional. It should not be wielded as a sword. It should mean something—especially to those of us who chose it.