"Make sure you take some tissues," said a friend in the lead-up. "You'll be needing them."
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
or signup to continue reading
This friend, married long ago to a federal minister, had had cause to attend many citizenship ceremonies over the years. She had thought, at first, that they would be dull. But no, she tells me, she would always cry, every time.
So, parking outside the Albert Hall on Tuesday afternoon, I wasn't sure what to expect. Tears, maybe?
I've covered the odd citizenship ceremony over the years - twice at Commonwealth Park on Australia Day, officiated by the prime minister, and once at the old Legislative Assembly offices, from memory a drab affair in some kind of conference room.
But the Albert Hall? It was already An Occasion.
![in Australia you only become a new citizen once you've fronted up to say the pledge and collect the certificate, piles of preceding paperwork be damned. Picture Shutterstock in Australia you only become a new citizen once you've fronted up to say the pledge and collect the certificate, piles of preceding paperwork be damned. Picture Shutterstock](/images/transform/v1/crop/frm/9gmjQxX8MpSQh6J68NHMnY/07d76baf-5077-47db-9563-459127795737.jpg/r0_276_5184_3191_w1200_h678_fmax.jpg)
We paid for parking and made our way to the entrance, where a sedate queue of people was gathering. We were obviously in the right place; most people around us were clearly born elsewhere, in Africa, China, the Middle East, India. Many in their best clothes, families gathered, looking excited.
But then also, as is always the case at an Australian gathering of any sort, there were people not dressed up at all. Jeans and hoodies, some thongs and sneakers. There's no dress code for this kind of thing.
Inside, the atmosphere was informal. The red and gold seats were lined up, and at the front of the hall, there were Australian, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander flags, along with a strangely out-of-place portrait of King Charles. The arched windows were open and the weird, unseasonable heat was stifling. People fanned themselves with the order of service and printed pledge. Kids ran around, cried with boredom or distress, giggled and played.
It was, I suppose, like any occasion that essentially involves the saying of words and the collecting of a piece of paper. People treated it as formally or casually as they wanted. We had both dressed up properly, as though attending a gallery opening, or perhaps a baptism. If it was a place like New York City Hall, where people go to get married, you would expect to see couples dressed way down, as well as dressed right up. It's the world we live in.
On this day, people were there to complete a requirement; in Australia you only become a new citizen once you've fronted up to say the pledge and collect the certificate, piles of preceding paperwork be damned.
READ MORE: SALLY PRYOR:
The Welcome to Country may well have caused some tears of emotion for some. So too the very first people to receive their certificates, an elderly couple from China - clearly this had been a long time coming, and was an event of great significance.
It was a close call, tears-wise, but for me, it was the Presiding Officer who caused me the first tears of the day - of frustration. A member of the ACT Greens and an MLA, he was wearing a pink blazer and distressed jeans, an outfit he must have consciously chosen that morning, knowing full well he would be delivering a stirring and moving speech to dozens of people taking a new and important step in their life journey. Not to mention presenting a certificate and posing for a photograph with each and every one of these people. Geez. I had half a mind to berate him afterwards for not choosing a more suitable outfit. I mean, jeans?
Luckily, I was quickly distracted by the family in front of me, one member of which was a beguiling baby who was the spitting image of his father. I had seen the father outside while paying for parking. He told me, eyes shining, that his wife was becoming a citizen. I told him - my eyes may have been shining a bit too - that my significant other was also taking the pledge.
The baby was held, briefly, by another man, who told me he was here visiting from India, to see his daughter - the baby's mother - become a citizen.
"Of this beautiful, very clean and wonderful country," he said to me. "This is a very proud day." His voice trembled, and my eyes, it's safe to say, were well and truly swimming.
Strangely, I hadn't brought tissues, notwithstanding my friend's reliable warning. So I stared at the pink jacket up there at the front, and turned those tears back to indignation.
My own outrage is a constant and reliable companion in these situations.
We've made it a whole lot easier for you to have your say. Our new comment platform requires only one log-in to access articles and to join the discussion on The Canberra Times website. Find out how to register so you can enjoy civil, friendly and engaging discussions. See our moderation policy here.