Berkley Center

“…Yes, but where are you really from?”

We have all heard others ask the question. I’ll even admit to making this particular inquiry once or twice myself.

Indeed, someone asks the question, “Where are you really from?” it is almost always on the heels of having received the answer to the question, “Where are you from?” It directly implies that your answer to “Where are you from?” was not sufficient. The question suggests that you, in your response, have not been entirely truthful, and assumes that the inquirer can somehow magically “tell” that you must be “from” someplace else. Almost invariably, what the inquirer really desires to know about is one’s ethnic and/or national heritage. More often than not, they interpret some aspect of one’s appearance (or perhaps speech) as “native” to a different location than that from which one claims to hail. It seems as if you are not the most qualified person to decide what the most accurate answer is.

In resident assistant training this summer, we discussed how this exact question is widely considered a microaggression, or a statement (whether intentional or unintentional) that singles out a specific identity category, and almost always carries demeaning implications. Therefore, since arriving in Germany, I have been struck by how innocently and openly Germans pose this question. I have repeatedly witnessed my medium-tan-looking friend, with dark eyes, and very large, dark curly hair (who has a mix of African-American, Central American, and Nordic heritage) being asked where she really is from, after claiming that she hails from the great state of North Carolina.

At first blush, this appears quite presumptuous, judgmental, and perhaps even racist to this American. I was puzzled by why some of the Germans I know personally, who are very inclusive and usually reserve judgment, also pursued this line of questioning. But, after some consideration, I realized that I learned the answer in kindergarten.

For example, in my kindergarten class, it was quite common to ask your friends, “What are you?”—more accurately stated, “What national heritage(s) do you claim?” As we were all born in the United States, as were most of our parents, we were all more or less American. However, we made quite the game out of it: the more heritages you could claim, the better. In my area of Wisconsin, the most common are Polish and German—but we represented quite the spread of nationalities: Swedish, Norwegian, English, French, Serbian, Czech, Mexican, and a few Native American tribes, to name a few. Significantly, however, there were those among us who always had extreme difficulty classifying their heritage. Their ancestors simply represented too many nationalities for a 5 year old to be able to remember or understand. Frustrated, these students always ended up throwing up their hands and saying, “Why can’t I just be American?”

With each passing year, the United States becomes less a young country full of immigrants, but rather a quite established immigration destination. For many Americans, centuries have passed since their ancestors emigrated from the “old world,” and generation after generation of marriages and births has obscured any clear dominant national heritage. Germany, on the other hand, has only recently experienced any kind of large-scale immigration. They welcomed guest workers from east European countries since the Second World War, and the influx of Turkish immigrants is even more recent. This means that the vast majority of adult Germans did not have a kindergarten experience like mine. Most have never had to face the question, “Why can’t I just be German?”

Upon closer inspection, it seems that the vast majority of Germans who ask this question do so quite innocently. They are not being judgmental or racist, quite the opposite. It is simply their method of trying to engage difference. It might be clumsy and easily misunderstood, but it is a way of acknowledging that “being American” involves a fundamentally different self-understanding than does “being German,” and that this American self-understanding actively incorporates other heritages and nationalities.

Acknowledging that most Germans start with a very different self-understanding regarding heritage(s) and nationalities, it has become easier for me to focus on the genuine intercultural curiosity that motivates the question, “…but where are you really from?” Overcoming the feeling that it might seem inappropriate, microaggressive, or rude has taught me the awesome potential to look past the language of someone else’s question and into its intent. Something about me evidently does not make sense in their understanding of the world, and they are actively trying to engage with me on the subject. And who am I to deny the opportunity for us to teach each other something by letting my pride or sense of respect get in the way? Maybe it takes a patient eye to see, but considering why someone from a different national culture is posing this question invites one to consider not only the answer, but the reason that the inquirer is curious to discover it. In fostering cross-cultural dialogue, this shift toward considering the causes of cross-cultural curiosities represents a step in the direction of more productive exchange.

After all, regardless of the answer, if you are happy to politely answer the question “Where are you really from?” then you already engaging politely. And that is sometimes half the battle.