Most of the time, I get it when people detect my accent. In those cases, I’m happy to explain where it’s from. But often, I’m asked where I’m from even before I’ve said a word—often as a conversation-opener at a bar, on the street, or in an Uber. It irks me that in these situations, the question comes loaded with presumptions. Judging by the flood of responses I got when I asked people their reactions to the question on social media, I’m not the only one who finds the question daunting.
But on the other hand, I have to admit that I’ve also often asked people where they’re from, and it’s led to some really great conversations. The point is, just as with any other fragment of language, context matters. Below, I’ve unpacked some of the reasons people may be uncomfortable when asked where they’re from. [...]
When directed towards minorities, the veiled question assumes foreignness. (Trump’s phrasing is a good example.) Given that the original inhabitants of the country weren’t white, the very first “settlers” of America were Hispanic, and that Chinese were among the first immigrants to the country, the idea that somehow these ethnicities are different from the mainstream, or not as American, is grating to many. [...]
An informal poll among girlfriends confirmed that women often get asked this question at loud, crowded bars and on streets. In these cases, it’s not likely that the askers have a genuine interest in the woman’s geographical origin. For women of color, in particular, the question recalls a history of men projecting cultural stereotypes onto them. It’s along the same lines of calling someone “exotic”: it might signal interest, but it’s actually not a compliment.
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