But Where Are You REALLY From?

It’s one of the first things we ask when meeting someone new.

It seems like an innocent enough question. But I used to hate it because I didn’t know what information the questioner was looking for.

• Were they asking me what my nationality was?

• Where I was born?

• Where my parents were born?

• Where my great-great-great grandparents were born?

• Where I grew up?

• Where I learned the most?

• What culture I identified most strongly with – which could be different from all of the above?

One thing that is clear to me is that most people were not looking to really know where I thought I was from. Typically, people ask the question so that they have a neat way to categorize you based on what they believe it means to be “from” a place, and what people from that place are typically like.

For instance, you believe that you have an idea of what a French person is like. So if I tell you that I am from France, you automatically form an impression of me consisting of a combination of preferences, cultural references, linguistic tendencies, values and stereotypes, usually based on some movies or news that you’ve seen, or those one or two other French people you’ve met.

From that moment forward – at least until we cross over into a deeper understanding of one another – I’m “that French guy” to you. You have formed an impression of me now that I might need to overcome, until you generate the opinion that I’m “not like other French people”, or that I’m “typically French”.

So where are you really from?

Some people reading this may be thinking, “It’s a simple question! Nothing to be sensitive about”.

I don’t think it’s that simple.

It’s a question that is becoming ever more blurry to this generation as the traditional boundaries to travel, work and relocation become obsolete.

I will tell you my background. I am curious to know which part jumps at you.

I was born in Switzerland to one Swiss parent and one American parent. I had both the Swiss and US nationalities. We lived in Switzerland until I was four and I learned English and German simultaneously.

Then we moved to the United States where I did my formal schooling up through University. I spent my summer breaks in Switzerland with my grandparents.

When I was 20, I spent a little over one year in Spain. It was one of the most transformative periods of my life. I had an adoptive Spanish family and immersed myself so deeply into the language and culture that I became almost a native-level speaker in Spanish (C2).

Shortly after that, I departed for Japan where I spent 2 years in the Japanese countryside. I was the only foreigner for miles around. I immersed myself in the Japanese language, worked in a public school with Japanese colleagues, had Japanese girlfriends (no their pussies are not sideways), and absorbed the culture as deeply as I could.

Next I left for Taiwan and did the same thing there. I dated Taiwanese girls and became fluent in Mandarin. I worked and went to school there. I ended up living there for 5 years.

In Taiwan I met my future wife, who came from France. We left Taiwan together for Switzerland.

It was only after arriving in Switzerland that I began my "adult" life. Got a serious job, got married, and attempted to settle down. I got in touch with my “roots”, spent several weeks each year in France with the in-laws and became fluent in French.

I have lived in Switzerland off and on for nearly 10 years. I am no longer a U.S. citizen, and I am no longer married.

In reading my story, something probably made you go, “Aha! You’re really THAT!”

That “something” is different for every person I talk to.

If I’m speaking to a North American they will tend to associate me as being Swiss, or European generally.

If I am speaking to a Swiss person in Swiss-German, they might accept the Swiss part but they will always detect my slight accent and ask, “but where are you really from? UK? US? Holland?”

Mind you, this is a discussion amongst white people – questions of race aren't a factor.

What is clear to me is that it is often the judgment of the other person that defines my identity in their mind, rather than my own opinion.

Imagine I told you that I identified as Japanese. You would never accept that.

On rare occasions some more inquisitive people will go so far as to ask me, “which country do you identify more strongly with?”

The truth is that I don’t know. I do not feel strongly any way. I think that I have absorbed the attitudes and cultures of each place I have lived and I feel connected to all of them.

I am not fully any of them.

My inability to clearly define myself seems to frustrate some people. Sometimes people think I am being coy or deliberately trying to assume some kind of “global citizen” persona.

But I would never say that, because calling yourself a “global citizen” sounds a little corny.

And I also believe in the preservation of national cultural heritage and values as a counterbalance to growing models of global governance and multiculturalism at the expense of freedom (more on this topic later).

Nevertheless, origin, nationality, culture and identity are fluid things. There are countries today which did not exist 50 years ago. Some countries of today will not exist in 50 more years.

As I soon as I tell you that I am from one place, that means I am not from somewhere else. Depending who you are talking to, simply saying that you are from a certain place might give rise to all sorts of negative emotions in the questioner, derived from some historical conflict of values and culture which you had no part in. Then you end up having to defend instead of connecting.

I have a friend with a fascinating origin story.

He was born in Turkey to Armenian parents. He spoke Armenian at home. He attended school in Turkish but he left Turkey for Switzerland when he was a teenager to live with a relative, at which point he stopped speaking Armenian or Turkish.

Now he is in his 60s. He is a Swiss citizen and speaks Swiss-German with a heavy accent and tells me that it’s his best language. He effectively has no mother tongue, and feels like he has no home country other than Switzerland.

Where is he from?

Asking someone where they are from is really the beginning of a discussion about values and attitudes. You want to know where someone is from so that you have an idea of what their values are, or which lens they view the world through.

So the next time someone asks you where you are from, you can use it as a platform to delve deeper and see what they really believe in.

Now when people ask me, I try not to become annoyed and say something easily digestible. Then, if I feel that the person is open to discussing such things, I like to follow up with a question: “What does it mean for you to be from a place?”

It sounds coy, but I like to know what framework they are operating from. This also opens up a wider discussion about identity, beliefs and values.

For instance, if you say you are from France, how and why do you identify with being French?

What does it mean to be French?

Were there situations in which you felt particularly French? Or not so French?

Do you think that the French identity accurately describes you, or do you hold some different values or perspectives?

Ultimately, we all just want to connect.

Just accept whatever your conversation partner tells you as their origin. They get to decide their cultural identity, not you nor your preconceived notions and stereotypes.

Then move onto something more meaningful.

We are far more likely to connect over shared values than something static like identity toward a nation-state.

Nation-states are arbitrary geographical or political boundary lines historically drawn in violence and blood.

Values go right to the heart.