The Question

Where are you from?

“Where are you from?”

I got asked recently at a conference.

“Oh, I am from around here.” I said, without thinking much of it. We were in a big conference. People travel in from everywhere. It’s not an uncommon question.

And for once, I was the local. Giddy to welcome folks to my city.

“No, I mean. Where were you originally from?”

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Before you jump in, my dear readers … I am old enough to understand the meaning behind those words.

Perhaps because I’ve been asked quite often.

Perhaps because I remember being physically cornered by a complete stranger who demanded to know where my ancestors came from.

I know the question.

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The irony: my European friends call me the American.

So what does being an American mean?

Do you have to look a certain way to be considered American?

Do you have to speak a certain way to be considered American?

We live in a culture that used to celebrate diversity … or at least said it did.

A message that now rings hollow.

The otherness follows.

And always … the outsider.

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