“So, Where are you from?” he said, after carefully enunciating and butchering my foreign-sounding name. I thought about it for a while, playing over the scenarios in my head.
Scenario #1:“I’m American. But my family is from Pakistan. Well, that’s not right. They’re originally from India, but like, there is really no difference. All nationalism is bogus. They moved around the subcontinent a bit. And traveled even further. Some of our ethnic cuisine is somehow Burmese. My parents grew up in Bangladesh but fled to Pakistan in ’71 because of the war. Mom still tells stories about hiding under a truck in the marsh and about her uncle who was chopped up in a wood mill. Still, she holds no grudges. A Bengali cook saved her family...”
No, that’s too long, and he is going to wonder why I don’t look brown.
“Where are you from?
Scenario #2: “I’m half indo-Pak half-Jewish. But I wasn’t raised jewish at all. My birth mom converted to Islam. And I am Muslim. But I mean, is Jewish an ethnicity anyways? Not sure to what degree we are Ashkenazi or Sephardic. I know I have relatives who died in the holocaust, but I have no idea who they are. My birth mom grew up in the Philippines, and her mom was born and raised in Uruguay. That’s why I decided to learn Spanish. I’m not Latin American but I do support Uruguay’s football team despite that one guy who bit the other guy…”
Still too long, and now I’m contradicting myself, supporting FIFA’s nationalistic enterprises when I thought that nationalism was bogus. And he is going to wonder what the difference between my “birth mom” and my mom is. I need to not be so complicated.
“Where are you from?”
Scenario # 13: “I was born in Alexandria. The one in Virginia, not Egypt. A lot of people think I’m Egyptian, but most people think I’m Syrian. I am not Arab at all though. And I don’t want to be Arabized. And not just because the food isn’t spicy enough. I mean, I learned a decent amount of Arabic because I wanted some connection with my religion and because its such a cool language etymologically. Turns out the people are pretty awesome too. Still, it bothers me that people attach religious authority to the language. If you want to say tanri instead of Allah, go for it. And khuda hafiz- Persian for lord protect- is more authentic than the Arabized Allah hafiz…”
I shouldn’t define myself against something. Just because everyone guesses I am arab, it doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge it. Once again, simplicity is the name of the game
“Where are you from?”
Scenario # 35: “I was raised in Hagerstown, Maryland. That’s pronounced with a prolonged “hay”. Population 40,000, with lots of farms and beautiful mountains. I had to call the police on the way to school one day because there was an escaped cow blocking the road. It’s not too far from DC, but honestly it definitely feels like West Virginia. I like the people and all, but I never really fit in. The town I went to high school in had a population of 3000. 92 percent white. No, I don’t dislike white people, just saying that it didn’t feel diverse. I am half-white, but in school I felt super brown. At the mosque, people called me the white kid though. Even my blond-haired friend who was adopted had better urdu than me.”
Maybe I am bashing H-town too much. I’m pretty sure I am the only one who calls it that. Anyways, they have probably never heard of it, so I should just say I am from DC.
“Where are you from?”
Scenario # 73 “Water. The Prophet Muhammad answered that question with the same answered. Well, you know, "religious science" and all is too positivist, and weird, and he probably didn’t mean it that way, but I like that answer. Somehow or the other, the first membranous sacks formed in water and became cells. They evolved and evolved and more complex creatures formed and soon came the first fishies, then good old tiktalaak! Mammals, primates, other chimp-ish creatures and 200,000 something years ago, us. I am also from Adam and Eve though, as are we all. They left paradise, and I hope to return. So home is heaven and the hereafter. Although, as some mystics say, the question is moot. There is no “I” to be from anywhere, just God.”
Now I am really confused. I can’t tell if I like the “We are all from Africa” shirts or not. I agree with the message of unity, but the continent doesn’t have those implications today. It seems a little like appropriation. And if people knew the more mystical ideas of unity I toy with, they might think I am a heretic.
“Where are you from?”
“No idea. You?”
Abdul Latif is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Friday.
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