As I am in the beginning stages of this blog I thought it would be appropriate to consecrate the next couple posts to introducing myself.
To start, I will describe the complex situation I am put in when being asked a seemingly simple straight forward question: Where are you from?
I hear this question a lot. At least once a week. Actually, I’ve heard it all of my life. It is a constant reminder that the people around you do not see you as the same as them.
The places where I hear it change. And the languages I hear it in change. But the fact that I generate bewilderment in people across the world remains the same.
Most importantly, it must be understood that people are not usually seeking a geographical location as the use of “where” would imply. I have learned to adapt my answer to what they really want to know. Here is a list of the implied questions they actually want answered, sometimes craving to answer two or more mysteries with that same one interrogative question.
Where are you from? in the U.S.A. really means:
- Why are your eyes and hair so dark, but your skin fair?
- Why do you sound American like me, but I can’t identify your ethnic background. You don’t fit any of the ethnic categories I am used to and this makes me uncomfortable. So please clear up the mystery and give my brain a cateogry to place you in.
- You have have a Middle Eastern first name, but a European last name. What’s up with that?
- You have a nose ring and very dark hair. Are you Indian?
- The only people I know with hair like yours are Hispanic. Could you be Puerto Rican?
When I was younger, I would have fun with this question which annoyed me as I didn’t want to be reminded that I was different. So while officially, I am a fourth generation American of both Irish and Azeri-Iranian ethnicity, I would sometimes answer, with the unexpected: Ghana or Jamaica. Or my favoite: Madagascar. (As a teenager, the sound of this country sounded very cool to me.) Other times I would just make up country names altogether. It didn’t really matter because people were usually too shy to admit that they had never heard of the country of Zoulabeya.
Answering “Where are you from?” in Egypt
My late teen years into early twenties were spent in Egypt. I didn’t stick out too much for my physical appearance. This is because, the population is accustomed to seeing the occassional fairer skinned Egyptian, as a minority of them have Turkish blood. So physically, I could blend in. Linguistically, however, differences were noted. I did learn to speak the local dialect of Arabic, but after a few sentences my foreign accent would give me away and that question would pop up again. Where are you from? or Anti men fen? as said in Egyptian Colloquial Arabic
The answer given to this question in an outdoor market, for example, will determined how you will be treated instantaneously. It is important to know that in Egypt, foreigners from the West are seen as wealthy. And they certainly are, compared to most Egyptians. The inconvenience of this is that for a certain number of salespeople, when faced with a Westerner they no longer see a person but a “business opportunity.” So, for example, that pair of socks you wanted to buy will become ten Egyptian pounds whereas for the Egyptian customer before you it was one pound.
To protect myself from becoming a “business opportunity” I thought long and hard of a country that wouldn’t make me attractive financially. It had to be a place not considered wealthy; and I knew that I had to resemble the natives physically. Furthermore, I didn’t want to find myself in the embarrassing situation where by chance the seller would speak the langauge of the said country. Because, I wouldn’t of course, be able to answer.
After some thought, I chose Bosnia.
Big mistake!
There was something I had not thought of pertaining to Bosnia. As there had recently been mass genocide of Muslims there and Egypt is primarily a Muslim country, great pity was taken on me. It was so embarrassing! Shopkeeers gave me tiny gifts and sent for their best merchandise. I felt like an orphan who’d finally found a home, being spoiled and fussed over. Never again, did I say that I was from Bosnia.
Answering “Where are you from?” in France
France has been my home since my mid-twenties. When I first arrived all that I could say in French was “Non,” “Oui” and “Je ne sais pas.” So, I was thrilled to learn that there was a large Arab population. I figured that I could at least speak the Arabic I had used on the streets of Egypt some of the time.
Nope!
It should be known that while written Arabic is the same in all Arab countries, the spoken or colloquial form contrasts more or less from one Arab country to the next. Northwestern Colloquial Arabic and Egyptian Colloquial Arbaic are so different that the natives of these two places can barely understand each other most of the time.
But back to our burning question – Yes! the French are curious too. Here the equivalent of Where are you from? is Vous êtes de quelle origine? (which literally translated means Which origin are you?). When I am asked this question what they are indirectly saying is:
- You have dark hair like a person from the south of Spain but you do not have a Spanish accent in French. What’s up with that?
- Just from looking at you I can guess that you are an Arab but why do you have an English accent in French?
- Why do you have an Arabic sounding first name and look like an Arab; but speak with an English accent in French?
Some people in France don’t ask any questions at all. They just directly assume that I am a part of the Arab minority, like themselves, and rip directly into Arabic, in the Northwestern colloquialism that I do not understand. When this happens, instead of asking if they understand, I too burst into a colloquialism of Arabic that they do not comprehend – the Egyptian one! In response I get silence and a puzzled look. Then they repeat the same exact sentence only louder the second time. Eventually, through body langauge, I am able to deduce that they want to know the price for something or I am able to direct them to the aisle they are looking for. Those who are especially curious, take a stab at my origins and ask:
Are you Egyptian? Are you Lebanese?
Nope!
To not have to tell them the long long story of where I am from, I sometimes give in at the guess: Egyptian. I lived there for a long time and feel a bit Egyptian, anyway. At least in spirit.
Spanish in Morocco
In Morocco once, on a short visit, I was very amused to discover that I was taken for a Spanish tourist. The salespeople broke directly into Spanish with me. Their certitude as to my origins even influenced how they saw my husband who was at my side. He was not used to being taken for an origin other than his own: Algerian. Interestingly enough, when he walked the same Moroccan streets by himelf, he was once again spoken to in Arabic. Whew!
From the assumption that I was Spanish, by the Moroccans, I deduced that their country must receive lots of Spanish tourists. I presume so because people tend to filter me into the racial group of people with dark eyes and dark haire with fair skin that they see most. I can count on one hand the number of times that anyone has guessed Iran, even though, I favor that side of my genetic background, the most. This is surely because I have never lived in a place with a large number of people of that race.
When the question is striaght forward
All of that said, there are rare moments when I am surprized to realize that a person truly only wants to know a geographical location in the usually very loaded question: Where are you from?
A few years back while I was back home in the USA, visiting from France, I crossed the path of one of my Mother’s new neighbors. After I introduced myself as Mecca, my mother’s daughter from out of town, he asked me where I was from. All of the above unspoken implied questions that I’ve described came to mind. Add to this, the additional potential for confusion, now that I live in France.
My mind just bugged.
I stumbled and didn’t quite know how to answer.
I struggled to guess what he really wanted to know. Did he want to know why my Mom is White but I don’t look quite White? I had just told him my name, so did he want to know the origin of it?
To stop my fumbling, I simply asked him: “You mean, because of my name?”
“No,” he simply answered, “where do you live?”
Pardon My France 