![The struggle to be British: my life as a second-class citizen](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sh3tFU_WXQLKL9G10Q7vHEtgVndSdUZIoEbBLAWvFz3sdBtZ0EELSF7AYYFDfb_6_V6mTDsA1zOVq-4EfylgMmsg3MhTaCukWLZfR_AUB6F7Sa6i1x43WBZxZmfnBatynYbR2bdUL2-qNjgi9Ra1z-Gye9QaUPH8LiWUmPhOMRfcB3sxUvFAsmEiw=s0-d)
I used my British passport for the first time on a January morning in 2002, to board a Eurostar train to Paris. I was taking a paper on the French Revolution for my history A-level and was on a trip to explore the key sites of the period, including a visit to Louis XIV’s chateau at Versailles. When I arrived at Gare du Nord I felt a tingle of nerves cascade through my body: I had become a naturalised British citizen only the year before. As I got closer to border control my palms became sweaty, clutching my new passport.
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