My son and I moved here permanently in the summer of 2018. I came here for love, sure, but the move also represented a chance for a fresh start, a stable life, and living somewhere that felt humane and progressive. Sweden aligned with our family values.
When I applied for citizenship in 2021, I asked my son if he wanted to be included.
At the time, he was 16. Legally, including him would have required written consent from himself and his father (a US citizen residing in Germany.)
After thinking about it, my son decided to wait and file on his own after he became a legal adult. That felt right to him. It made sense. He wanted ownership of his choice and I respected that. It’s a powerful thing to have your own say in where and how you belong.
He filed in June 2023 and has not yet received a decision. By comparison, I was approved after two short months.
It is now May 2025. He turned 20 this past February, and we have heard nothing. No decision. No update.
According to Migrationsverket, 75% of people seeking citizenship between the ages of 18-21 get their results within three months. For him, it’s been 22 months and counting. How is that acceptable?
It’s not just frustrating; it’s frightening. With the way things are unfolding in the world, this kind of uncertainty feels dangerous.
It’s a weight. It’s a question mark hanging over his head over where he can work, where he can stay, what kind of future he can plan for.
He is a young, queer person who is navigating a world that is becoming increasingly hostile to people like him.
In the United States, where we’re originally from, queer people are under attack. Things feel increasingly uncertain. The tone of public discourse around immigrants, queer people, and dual citizens has shifted. It’s harder to feel safe in a country where legal protections and human rights seem more fragile as every day passes.
For a young, queer adult like my son, the idea of “home” isn’t just about geography–it’s about whether a place offers dignity, safety, and a future.
He’s talked recently about giving up his American citizenship. It’s not a rash decision. It’s something he’s been thinking about seriously.
When the country where you were born starts to feel unstable or indifferent to who you are, you start to look elsewhere for something solid to stand on.
Sweden, especially Skellefteå - this place he’s lived in since he was 13 - has been that for us. A home. A place of community. Of quiet belonging. And yet, nearly two years after applying for citizenship, he’s still in limbo.
With the far-right Sweden Democrats influencing policy the delay makes me nervous. New restrictions are being proposed and there’s a feeling in the air that everything could change.
My son has lived here through his teenage years and all of his adult life so far. He has friends, language skills, aspirations. Sweden is his home.
Citizenship is about more than just paperwork. It is security. It is identity.
He’s just filled out the 'request to conclude' form, which asks the government to make a decision on your citizenship application within four weeks.
I hope they will. And with all of my heart I hope it will be favourable. Of all the things he might face in his life, this shouldn’t be the hard part.
He’s chosen Sweden. And for a country that doesn’t have birthright citizenship, that should matter.
This is an opinion piece and the writer's views are their own