A pause. A long pause and a flustered look is what you’ll typically get from me if—and eventually when—you ask me the ostensibly straightforward question: “Where are you from?”
To many people, this is fairly simple to answer, just another question on a multiple choice test that you know you’re going to nail. To me, it is a multifaceted question with a few different options, like the last essay question on a test that you answer according to who your teacher is and what their preferences are.
I have tried my best to mask the inner congregation that convenes in my conscious when I’m asked this question, but if you’re asking, you’re still going to be honored with a-deer-in-headlights-look (I can’t control my facial expressions for the life of me).
My shoulder-devil will be mooning me while yelling, “Just say something, anything! It doesn’t matter! Just pick one!”
My shoulder angel will roll its eyes and stare at me with a pouty face, knowing my answer kinda, sorta, somehow does matter.
I used to think that “Where you from?” referred to my ethnicity, my roots. As I grew older and started moving around, I realized that — not only are people actually asking several different questions with that simple one — it had become more difficult for me to answer.
I definitely have grappled with my cultural identity, a sense of belonging, defining “home”, etc… but that is *not* what this essay is about. It’s really more just about how I attempt to sort things out in my head, on the spot.
So, given all the variety in the questions and the answers, here’s a breakdown from EASY PEASY LEMON SQUEEZY to I’M SORRY IF THIS IS WAY MORE INFORMATION THAN YOU WERE SIGNING UP FOR BUT I PANICKED AND NOW I NEED TO REMOVE MYSELF FROM THIS SITUATION.
Number One: “Where were you born?”
This is the rarest one but also the easiest one, because, well, there’s literally only one possible answer. I was born right here on this island that I live on now: Manhattan. And because I think I’m cute, the cringe-worthy joke that typically follows my answer is, “I’ve come full circle!,” along with a shrug and a cheeky smile.
My parents were living in Beirut when I was ready to come out to the world, but they wanted me to have an American passport. My mom had acquired one after college, and honestly Lebanese and Jordanian passports aren’t the… easiest for travelling.
My folks have 2020 vision! Thanks for the passport, guys!
And, because that tends to be an unfinished, unsatisfying answer for people trying to understand me, I tend to word-vomit my way into answering questions Number Two or Three.
Number Two: “Where are you from ethnically?” A.K.A. “Where are your parents from?”
My beautiful makers are both Middle Eastern; my mother is Lebanese and my father is Palestinian, but he grew up in Kuwait. They met in Arizona, where they both attended Arizona State University as undergraduates, and the rest is (another lengthy and geographically complicated) history.
Here’s a tip, for all you question-askers: Ethnicity, for everyone, can be a charged topic of conversation due to our present social stereotypes. Considering this, when I say I’m an Arab, it’s entirely inappropriate to reply with, “Oh, you don’t look like it at all…No! But in a good way!”
I have been confronted with this too many times.
What is an Arab supposed to look like? Dismissing the relationship between my ethnicity and my looks like that’s a compliment is offensive.
So! Don’t! Do! It!
Number Three: “Where did you grow up?”
Easi-errrr, but, hey, I’m still growing up, right? JK, please keep reading.
This question in particular has a few answer options because I’ve moved around throughout my life, for school and for my parents’ jobs.
I spent the first nine years of my life in Beirut, Lebanon, and spent the following eight years in Lausanne and Geneva (for my dad’s job). My last year of high school was spent in Dubai, UAE. We moved, again, because of my dad’s job (Thanks for the sunshine, Dad!).
Number Four: “Where is your home?”
This is the worst one. If you ask me this, you might set me in default mode and get the answers to all of the above, and then some. Or, I might just say China and call it a day because mystery is ~sexy~.
The concept of home is difficult for me to answer because, well, I feel like all of the places I’ve lived in are my “home.” Every city is associated with people and memories that are essential to my idea of home and life. To be fair to the people who intended to ask this, and according to the numerous conversations I’ve had with those people, it can be easy to assume there is one place where a person was born, raised and still rooted, a.k.a “Home.”
So I’ve figured out how to answer this in the simplest way possible: Currently, home is Shanghai, China. No, this isn’t a joke, I’m not just saying that because it’s on the other side of the globe from where we are. It’s because my family moved there after I got to college. When I go “home” for our school breaks, I go to see my family, in China.
For the people who know me but who don’t know what my latest homebase is, it can get confusing. If there is any mention of Lebanon, Switzerland or Dubai, I swoon “Home!!!” and they give me the “We get it, you’re international” look.
Inevitably, assumptions will be made about you when you tell people what languages you may speak, what experiences you may have had, what your upbringing may have looked like.
Certainly, starring in the role of the highly-underestimated-and-surprisingly-diverse-underdog in the ongoing biopic also known as my life has worked to my advantage.
Divulging these details of my life has created opportunities and relationships that wouldn’t have occurred if I didn’t answer and explain.
If you’re still reading, you’re a star. And, now that you have a glimpse of what my background check would look like, remember to be specific with your question. Being straightforward will be kinder for the person you’re asking and you’ll (hopefully) get the answer you were looking for.
Remember: Just because your answer to this question is easy, doesn’t mean it is for others.
And if you’re lucky enough, I’ll just answer with the small but mighty, stand-alone stallion: “I’m Lebanese.” Sometimes, that’s really all I need you to know about me.
Graphic by Sanika Phawde
