May I ask where you're from?

Be curious, but also be careful.

With fascination, I recently watched the resignation of the Queen’s lady-in-waiting after she asked repeatedly and invasively “where are you from?” to the boss of a London-based charity. The details of this specific situation have been thoroughly scrutinized, but the bigger question “where are you from” is still the controversial topic of the hour. It’s not the first time this politicized question has made the news.

I’ve worked in tourism for 15 years, and I’ve travelled most of my adult life. I’ve asked and been asked “where are you from?” more times than there are ships in the sea and planes in the sky. Usually I don’t mind in the slightest. At the same time, my opinion about heritage, culture, stereotypes and identity has evolved, especially after living overseas for many years.

As people travel, migrate and mix more than ever before, now is a great time to reflect on the question “where are you from?” and the intentions that come with it.

While working a summer job as a kids’ counselor, I’ll never forget the frustration of a young teenager named “Joey” when he reacted angrily to an inquisitive camper. A child had asked Joey “where are you from?” Joey, like myself, had been involved with the YMCA for years, spoke with a South Carolina accent and was as American as apple pie. There was one noticeable difference between us and that was he had Asian features. Joey lashed out at the child after he asked and told him “it’s a very rude question to ask someone where they are from.” I observed the situation, thinking how I had never been asked that question by the campers or most people I knew. My heart broke for Joey in that moment, because the annoyance in his voice made it seem as though he’d been asked the question many times before.

In February, my brother and I were dining out in Buenos Aires. The waitress, a young Spanish-speaking woman, approached us and immediately started speaking to my blond-haired, blue-eyed, Spanish-fluent brother in bad English. He responded in fluent Spanish and she continued in bad English until he snapped at her. He had a poor reaction, but this was not the first time in his decade of living in Latin America that people presumed he spoke English based on his appearance. He can’t stand it. In his view, if he approached a brown-skinned person in the US and immediately started speaking Spanish, there’s no way that would be acceptable. Therefore, Latin Americans shouldn’t be surprised at his reaction to their presumptions. I don’t disagree with him, but rather than him snapping, this moment could have been a learning opportunity with a positive outcome. (He did feel bad about getting angry and left her a large tip.)

Because for most of my life I’ve been trying to learn Spanish, I’m regularly on the lookout for people with whom to practice Spanish. I’ve changed my approach after a few mistakes, falsely detecting a Spanish accent and asking “de donde eres” (Where are you from?) to people from Brazil and even the Philippines, yikes! Both times I was mortified. Presuming someone speaks a language isn’t exactly like asking “Where are you from,” but both approaches can be linked to the desire to connect. Alternatively, when done the wrong way it can “other” people, reminding them that they are not like us. I now opt for the question “Do you speak Spanish?” and if they say yes I ask “Do you mind if I practice with you?”.     

When I worked as a tour guide in Kentucky, one of my favorite parts of the tour was asking people where they were from. I’d shout out states and countries to groups of up to 40 people as we walked down to the mouth of the cave. I’d start with the closest and expand, “Anybody on this tour from Ohio? Indiana?” We’d reach Mexico, California, Canada, continuing until I was calling out random countries. The guests always enjoyed it, and people who were from the same regions took notice of fellow travelers. People always had the option not to answer. It was a lighthearted activity, a great icebreaker before starting a tour presuming no one was judgmental or xenophobic.   

I remember another time working this job and there was an event where many locals came out to pull invasive weeds. I met a woman with a British accent and was excited, as you don’t often find accents like that in the neighborhood. Turns out the woman had lived for decades in Kentucky and wasn’t really happy to talk about her heritage. She was cold to me when I asked. I was sad she didn’t understand my curiosity about her unique English accent, deep in America’s heartland.

I was probably 20 years old at the time of that interaction. Now, after living in a smaller Australian town where American accents are in the minority, I feel more empathy towards the English woman. Sometimes people find out I’m American and treat me like I’m a backpacker fresh off the boat, like I know nothing about Australian culture despite the fact I now have Australian citizenship. I don’t appreciate this patronizing nature, unintentional as it may be. Some people want to talk to me about Trump or baseball or Hollywood. When I first arrived in Australia in 2010, I LOVED that I was different. I couldn’t wait to be asked the question. To a degree, I still do. Sometimes I ham it up and it often works in my favor. I have parties in Australia celebrating Thanksgiving and Halloween. I say “hey y’all,” “hey girl,” I throw on the country accent I heard throughout my childhood and (some) people act like I’m a country comedian, the hilarious hillbilly. I’ve been asked to give my perspective as a United States citizen on the radio and on podcasts. People are often curious about my views, based on my culture and upbringing, although not everyone is smitten by American accents and attitudes. People can judge you negatively for growing up in Southern US or even just for being American, period.

It’s fascinating; I never thought about my cultural identity until I went to college with folks from California and New York. I’ll never forget how a dorm room full of fellow freshmen laughed at me when I said “might could,” a common phrase I heard growing up. When I studied abroad in Northern Ireland, surrounded by many Europeans, I began to wonder if my identity was linked to my culture, rather than my genetics, upbringing or personality.

Living in a different culture can mess with your sense of self. My college roommate came to visit me in Australia recently. Like me, she’s from the Carolinas. During our time together, I noticed a joyous feeling of purely being myself, of not being seen through the lens of “other” or “different”. For me, it’s been awesome to feel special and exotic (lol), but then again it is also nice to feel like you are the same and equal to others. When people in Australia describe me, one of the first descriptors will often be “American.” It is not surprising. Your nationality is a categorical fact, much like the glasses I wear and my brown hair. It’s a normal way to describe someone, but you do have to be aware that culture comes with stereotypes. American and Australian are ultimately fairly similar too; I’ve talked to plenty of people from OS who experience far greater challenges than I do with regards to fitting in. Also, because I am white with darker skin and dark hair, I tend to not stick out as much as, say, my brother does in Latin America. Alternatively I can blend in easily in the US or Australia. If my skin tone, eyes or hair was more uncommon, I might get the question more and like it less.

All the rambling anecdotes above are to say that when asking questions about people’s identity, be curious but be careful. Do the same when deciding how to answer the question too.

Here are a few takeaways.

- The question “where are you from?” is not well defined. Do you mean “Where do you live?” “Where did you grow up?” “Where are your parents from?” or “What is your heritage?”?

- Just because the question seems casual to you doesn’t mean it is to the person you’re asking.

- Consider your motive for asking. Would you ask this question to a person who looks and sounds like you? Are you asking them because you are curious or because you want to know why/if they are different? Do you want to justify a preconceived notion you have? Do you ask the question straight away or 5+ questions in?

- You are under no obligation to answer this question (or any question) someone asks, particularly if they push. It’s one thing to say “Where are you from?” It’s another thing to say “But where are you really from?”  

-If you’re worried about how the question might be perceived you can also ask “are you local?” Are you visiting? “Where is home for you?” “What brings you here?” “Do you mind if I ask where you’re from?” “Do I detect an accent?”.

- Not everybody is happy to talk about where they live or where they’re from. Some people don’t even like to claim their current place of residence. The world is a big place with many mixed reputations.

- No matter how harmless the intention, people respond differently depending on the circumstance and context. If the question has offended, apologize for the miscommunication and come up with an alternative questions that might better suit: “What are you up to today?” or “How’s your week been?” “What’s your favorite song?”

- If you are being asked “Where are you from?” and it makes you uncomfortable, say so. You can deflect as well with “Why do you ask?” or “I’m from planet earth” or cheekily, “Can you guess?”

- This is not the only “getting to know you” question that might offend. No question is guaranteed to never offend. You can’t worry too much about it.

Identity is so FUNNY. It almost doesn’t matter and yet in some moments it’s everything. This question could be traumatizing or the start of a nice friendship. Proceed with caution and give folks the benefit of the doubt.