In the United States, the word “citizen” carries a weight that goes beyond legal status. It evokes the right to vote, the expectation of justice, the duty to serve, and the sense of belonging to a political community. But beneath that single term lies a dual identity, often overlooked: every American is simultaneously a citizen of the United States and a citizen of the state in which they reside. What seems like a seamless arrangement—one passport, one ballot, one flag—conceals a complex legal structure with origins in Civil War reconstruction, resonances in federalist theory, and implications that continue to shape contemporary life in subtle but profound ways.
The Constitution of the United States makes no mention of “national citizenship” in its original form. That concept was born with the Fourteenth Amendment, ratified in 1868, which declared that “all persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” That deceptively simple clause did more than confer status—it created a dual citizenship regime unique in the world. American citizens are members of a national polity with rights and obligations enforced by federal law, but they are also members of a state, with its own set of laws, customs, and expectations.
In practical terms, citizenship at both levels is largely automatic. When a person is born in the United States, they acquire both U.S. and state citizenship at birth, determined by the place of delivery and the domicile of their parents. When people move from one state to another, their state citizenship changes by operation of law, following their residency and intent to remain. There is no application, no ceremony, no oath required to become a citizen of a new state. It is a quiet transformation, rooted in the American principle that political membership should follow individual liberty and mobility, not the arbitrary dictates of borders.
But the legal implications of this change can be substantial. State citizenship determines eligibility to vote in state and local elections, to serve on juries, to receive public benefits, and to enjoy in-state tuition. It defines one’s obligations under state tax codes, criminal statutes, and regulatory frameworks. A resident of Oregon and a resident of Alabama may both be citizens of the United States, yet they live under dramatically different legal conditions—on issues ranging from gun ownership to reproductive rights to environmental protection. State laws, shaped by distinct political cultures, can expand or contract what citizenship means in daily life.
At the federal level, citizenship is a gateway to a broader universe of rights and responsibilities. It confers access to federal courts, protections under the Bill of Rights (as applied to the states via the legal doctrine of incorporation), and the ability to participate in national elections. It ensures freedom of movement across state lines, protection abroad via U.S. embassies, and the right to reenter the country at will. Federal citizenship is what allows Americans to speak freely, worship openly, and demand due process, regardless of which state they call home.
Yet the simplicity of this duality begins to fray at the edges of the system. Residents of U.S. territories such as Puerto Rico, Guam, and the U.S. Virgin Islands are citizens of the United States but not of any state. They cannot vote for president and lack full representation in Congress, even as they live under federal law and, in many cases, pay federal taxes. In American Samoa, people born under the U.S. flag are designated “U.S. nationals,” not citizens at all—a designation upheld by courts under a line of early 20th-century rulings known as the Insular Cases, whose continued authority remains a subject of legal and moral controversy.
Likewise, Native Americans who are members of federally recognized tribes hold a unique triadic citizenship: tribal, federal, and, often, state. Tribal nations possess sovereign authority to define their own membership and govern their internal affairs. Yet their citizens also live under federal oversight and are subject to state jurisdiction in complex and often contested ways. The case of McGirt v. Oklahoma, decided by the Supreme Court in 2020, affirmed that much of eastern Oklahoma remains Indian Country for purposes of criminal law, dramatically reshaping the balance of power among state, federal, and tribal governments.
In more ordinary circumstances, the line between state citizenship and residency has all but disappeared. Most Americans experience their state citizenship as a function of where they live, vote, pay taxes, and engage with local institutions. Courts use domicile—the place one resides with the intent to remain—as the standard for determining state citizenship, especially in matters of jurisdiction and voting rights. But the term “citizen” still carries an echo of political belonging that goes beyond geography. It implies participation, accountability, and identity—qualities not automatically conferred by mere residence.
The tension between mobility and rootedness is perhaps the most enduring feature of American federalism. On the one hand, the Constitution protects the right to travel freely between states and guarantees that citizens of one state shall enjoy the “privileges and immunities” of citizens in the others. On the other hand, states retain the power to define many of the conditions under which people live, work, marry, educate their children, and die. In this sense, moving from one state to another is not simply a change of address—it is a shift in political reality.
To be a citizen in the United States, then, is to be embedded in a layered structure of sovereignty. It is to belong to a national community of laws and ideals, but also to a local community of practices and powers. It is to inhabit a legal identity that follows you across borders yet also transforms as you cross them. The simplicity of one’s passport conceals the complexity of one’s polity.
Historically, the Fourteenth Amendment, ratified in 1868, established that “all persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” This clause enshrined the principle of jus soli, or right of the soil, granting citizenship to nearly all born on U.S. soil, regardless of parental nationality. The Supreme Court affirmed this interpretation in United States v. Wong Kim Ark (1898), ruling that a child born in San Francisco to Chinese nationals was indeed a U.S. citizen, setting a precedent that has stood for over a century.
However, recent developments have challenged this long-standing understanding. On January 20, 2025, President Donald Trump signed Executive Order 14160, titled “Protecting the Meaning and Value of American Citizenship.” This order seeks to deny automatic U.S. citizenship to children born on American soil if their mothers were either unlawfully present in the country or legally present on a temporary basis, and their fathers were neither U.S. citizens nor lawful permanent residents at the time of birth.
Proponents of Trump’s order appeal to originalism—the legal philosophy that constitutional meaning is fixed at the time of ratification. They argue that the Fourteenth Amendment was designed to reverse the Dred Scott decision (Dred Scott v. Sandford, 60 U.S. 393 [1857]), which infamously declared that Black Americans could not be citizens. Therefore, its principal aim was to ensure citizenship for formerly enslaved persons and their descendants—not to establish a broad, universal right to citizenship for all persons born in the U.S., regardless of their parents’ status.
This view is supported by selective readings of the Congressional debates of 1866, particularly those of Senator Jacob Howard, who introduced the Citizenship Clause. Howard said the clause would “not, of course, include persons born in the United States who are foreigners, aliens, who belong to the families of ambassadors or foreign ministers.”
President Trump’s defenders seize on this language to argue that the children of undocumented immigrants—or even those on temporary visas—are not “subject to the jurisdiction” of the United States, and therefore not covered by the clause.
This perspective challenges the longstanding precedent set by the Supreme Court in United States v. Wong Kim Ark(1898), which affirmed that the Fourteenth Amendment guarantees citizenship to nearly all individuals born on U.S. soil, regardless of their parents’ immigration status. Legal experts argue that the executive order contradicts both constitutional provisions and established legal precedent. “Not subject to the jurisdiction,” they point out, refers to (1) children born to accredited foreign diplomats in the United States not subject to U.S. jurisdiction because their parents enjoy diplomatic immunity under international law; (2) if the U.S. were under military occupation by a foreign power, and that foreign army’s soldiers fathered children with local residents, those children would not be “subject to the jurisdiction” of the U.S. because sovereignty is suspended in occupied zones; and (3) before the Indian Citizenship Act of 1924, many Native Americans born into sovereign tribal nations were not considered citizens because they were not fully subject to U.S. legal jurisdiction. Tribal members were governed by their own laws and not taxed by the federal government. This changed when Congress granted universal birthright citizenship to Native Americans through the Indian Citizenship Act of 1924.
Trump’s executive order has sparked significant legal challenges. Multiple federal judges have issued injunctions blocking its implementation, citing its contradiction with constitutional provisions and established legal precedent. In State of Washington v. Trump, Judge John C. Coughenour labeled the order “blatantly unconstitutional,” emphasizing that the Constitution cannot be amended unilaterally by executive action. Similarly, in Trump v. CASA, the Supreme Court heard arguments not only on the order’s constitutionality but also on the broader issue of whether lower courts can issue nationwide injunctions against federal policies. As of this time, the Supreme Court has not issued a ruling on either issue.
Critics of the executive order argue that it undermines fundamental American values and could lead to a class of stateless individuals, born in the U.S. but denied citizenship. They point to the potential for a fragmented legal landscape, where citizenship rights vary by state or are subject to shifting federal policies. Supporters of the order contend that it addresses concerns over illegal immigration and the exploitation of birthright citizenship.
The debate over Executive Order 14160 underscores the delicate balance between federal authority and individual rights. It raises profound questions about the nature of citizenship, the interpretation of constitutional clauses, and the extent of executive power. As the legal battles continue, the nation grapples with defining who belongs within its borders and under what terms. This reflects the ongoing evolution of American identity and governance, especially considering President Trump’s hostility toward immigrants and a general atmosphere of xenophobia that is a recurring theme in American history.