Where are you really from?
…This question has become somewhat of a bonding moment for those of us that get asked this - regularly. For many years I didn't find this question offensive, just genuinely confusing. It sent me down existential rabbit holes - because where the hell was I really from?
As a 6 year old who spoke fluent Swedish 🇸🇪 , and spoke English with a strong Nordic twang - I didn’t understand the question.
As a 12 year old in Spain 🇪🇸 , I embraced the label of ‘gitana’ or gypsy. At the time I didn’t realise any of the connotations, but it meant people thought my Spanish was fluent enough to pass and I was just quite tanned!
I then moved to Sri Lanka 🇱🇰 where it looked like I belonged - and I rebelled against the label. I became more ‘part English, born in Sweden’ than I had ever been before.
At university in the UK 🇬🇧 I was considered ‘local enough’ - even though my English was a bit more old school and formal, it was clearly native. Well so I thought until my friendly Welsh 🏴 bus driver would compliment me on my improving language skills 🤷🏽♀️.
I could go on. And so could many of you I’m sure. There are those of us who don’t quite know where we are from, and then there are those that have to prove that they are really English / Dutch - take your pick. I consider myself very privileged that I can pick and choose where I say I’m really from. If I can see someone is wondering why I am brown, I insist I’m Swedish. If they are wondering why I speak the way I do, I remind them it’s my first language. I don’t do this from a place of anger or indignation anymore - but that’s taken a while!
As an adult, I do understand why people ask - it's human nature to try and neatly box things up, label them. But the implications can be far reaching, painful and sometimes just a lot to process.
