Joe Sacks, a high school science teacher in Washington, D.C., recently began an unexpected journey: applying for German citizenship. His ancestors once fled Nazi Germany to survive. Today, he clicks a box on a digital form that says “Yes, I’m Jewish”—and sends it to the German government.
“It’s wild,” he said in an NPR interview.
Sacks is one of hundreds of Jewish Americans doing something once unimaginable: reclaiming citizenship in the country their families were forced to flee. Some are motivated by practical reasons—like greater travel freedom or access to European work and education. But for many, it’s something deeper. It’s about having a “Plan B” in a political climate they find increasingly unsettling.
Shadows of the Past
The growing wave of applications comes at a time of rising political tension and division in the United States. For some Jewish Americans, it feels hauntingly familiar. Retired IT consultant Eric Podietz, whose mother escaped Nazi Germany as a child, doesn’t plan to leave America—but he no longer feels secure here. “The rise of authoritarianism, the targeting of minorities, the attack on academia—these are all echoes of history,” he said.
The parallels many draw between the current U.S. environment and 1930s Germany may seem dramatic, but they are deeply personal.
A Path Reopened
Germany has acknowledged its past with more than just words. Since 1949, its constitution has offered a path back to citizenship for Nazi victims and their descendants. But it wasn’t always accessible. For decades, legal complexities—like gender-based lineage restrictions—prevented many from qualifying.
That changed in 2021, when the German government removed many of those barriers. Now, applicants can claim citizenship through maternal lineage, and no longer need to show financial self-sufficiency. Proof of persecution is enough—whether due to being Jewish, Roma, politically dissident, or disabled.
Still, finding documentation remains a challenge. “Old records can be hard to locate, and everything must be submitted in German,” explained Marius Tollenaere, a partner at Frankfurt-based immigration law firm Fragomen.
A Difficult but Necessary Step
For many families, the decision to reconnect with Germany is not easy. Scott Mayerowitz grew up in New Jersey with a deep-rooted aversion to anything German—his grandparents had fled in the 1930s. When he brought up applying for citizenship, his mother hesitated. “My parents must be turning over in their graves,” she said. But eventually, she agreed, realizing it could mean new opportunities—and possibly a safer future—for her granddaughter.
Anne Barnett from Arlington shared a similar story. Her mother initially reacted with pain and confusion. What eventually swayed her was not the opportunity—but the fear. The growing tide of anti-Semitism in the United States felt too dangerous to ignore.
Travel writer Erin Levi had her turning point when she found her grandfather’s alien ID card from 1942. She now feels safer in Germany than in some parts of the U.S. “Germany has done the work,” she said. “They’ve taken responsibility. Not many countries have.”
Full Circle
In July 2024, at the German consulate in New York, 82 Holocaust survivors and their descendants took the oath to become citizens of Germany. What was once a symbol of loss is, for some, becoming a symbol of resilience and continuity.
Steve North, a journalist, applied for German citizenship in 2020—spurred by the fear of a second Trump presidency. When he received his papers, the moment was unexpectedly emotional. David Gill, then the German consul general, said, “This feels wonderful. We Germans get a part of our history back.”
It was a poignant reminder that identity is not static—it evolves, rebuilds, and sometimes, it returns home.
North isn’t leaving the U.S. yet. But like many, he’s choosing not to ignore the signs. “It would be foolish to think that history can’t repeat itself. We’ve seen it before,” he said.
In a world increasingly uncertain, for some Jewish Americans, reclaiming German citizenship is not about abandoning one country—it’s about preserving the dignity and freedom their families fought to protect.
