We dont’ live in New York City, or Los Angeles, or San Francisco. But this is still a fairly big metropolitan place and the population is rather diverse here, yet I still get this question. A lot. If you’re not white, or black, you will get asked this question at some point by some nosy person who could really care less about your answer. Even if you don’t have any weird noticeable accents (a dead giveaway that you’re not local). And it’s usually by people whom you’ve never met before, and will never see again. Or ones who you’re meeting for the very first time. They must just want to make you feel like an outsider, like you don’t belong. They question why you are here, as if they have a right to say “yes you can stay” or “no you must go.”

What is it with the fascination of where people are from. And it’s not just where you grew up, or where you were born. They want to know where all your ancestors are originally from, all the way back to the 1500’s or something.

It saddens me to think that our son will probably get asked this question, more than once, as he grows older. (He was born right here in the midwest). I envision these exchange of words:

Nosy Person: “So sonny, where are you from?”
“Minnesota,” his reply.
“No, I mean, where were you born?”
“In Minnesota”, he replies again.
“Ohhhhh really? Is that right?! Well, where are your parents from then?”

I wonder if this also happens to children who were adopted internationally (who aren’t white or black).

Nosy Person: “So sonny, where are you from?”
“Florida/New Jersey/whatever.”
“No, I mean, where were you born?”
“Uh, I was born in China/Korea/Fiji/birthplace.”
“Wow. What made you come all the way to America?”
“My parents. They adopted me.”

It’s one thing to be truly, genuinely curious. It’s another thing to be a nosy son of a bitch and act like you have a right to know every single branch of this complete stranger’s family tree. And usually, you can tell the difference.