This question was repeatedly asked of me in all the different countries where I lived. Even in my hometown, Casablanca, I was asked the same, seemingly trivial question: 'Where are you from?' Implicitly, it meant, 'Where are your parents from?'
When someone asks you where you're from … do you sometimes not know how to answer? Writer Taiye Selasi speaks on behalf of "multi-local" people, who feel at home in the town where they grew up, the city they live now and maybe another place or two. "How can I come from a country?" she asks. "How can a human being come from a concept?"
In Morocco, I always struggled to reply,
As there were ethnicities with varying degrees of prestige.
For instance, the Fez people were considered the cream of the crop – the wealthiest and the most intellectual. It was among them that you could find doctors and intellectuals.
The Berber people were known for their business acumen.
On the other hand, the 3roubiya were considered the 'rednecks' of Morocco, the 'cul-terreux' in French – the least prestigious.
I was born to parents from the two least prestigious ethnicities: a Berber father and a mother from Doukala, a region of 3roubiya. As such, it was more or less kept a secret, especially since my friends were all Fassi, and I felt ashamed. Parent-teacher meetings were kept under wraps to prevent my parents from attending. There was no way I wanted my classmates to discover my origins! In my child mind, I felt some sort of shame!
Let's share this joke related to this hierarchy,
Particularly in the context of mandatory army service. For instance, soldiers would come after a Fassi (a descendant of Fez) to fulfill his army duties. When the Fassi's mother answered the door, she sarcastically remarked, 'Are there no more Berberes and 3roubi left?😊) it's humour.
In France
In my twenties, I came to France to pursue my college degree. Following my graduation, I decided to stay, got married, and found employment in a company. Prior to meetings, my colleagues, noticing my accent, often perceived me not as a 'real' French person, but rather as an immigrant. I consistently struggled to accept this perception and felt as though I was inadvertently contributing to the stereotype of immigrants coming to take opportunities from the locals.
In the USA,
our family moved there from France. and since we originated from Paris, we were all considered French. I possess a French passport, so I no longer felt the need to justify my identity after years of struggling in France. Having been a local and a worker there for 20 years, I genuinely consider myself French due to my love for the food, friends, cultural aspects, and the history of France. Suddenly, in the USA, I was labeled as French, thanks to my husband, who is a 'real' French person. While it brought some relief, it also triggered an identity crisis, feeling like I was living a lie.
I waited for the right moment to reveal the truth when asked, 'Where do you come from?' The real answer was, 'Right now, I come from France, but I was actually born in Casablanca, so I come from Morocco!' I didn't feel threatened by this question until a lady in a group gathering framed it differently, saying, 'We are all Christians, right?' I couldn't help but raise my voice and respond, 'No, I'm not.' They all stared at me as if I were an alien. When I explained that I was 'agnostic,' I couldn't bring myself to say I was born in a Muslim country, and therefore, I am Muslim, which I don't feel in my soul.
In Morocco
Let's talk about Morocco, where we returned for a short 3-year stay. It had changed drastically. I was referred to as 'MRE: Marocains Résidant à l'Étranger' (Moroccans Residing Abroad). I didn't bother to correct anyone because my 'accent' was different from the 'real' Moroccans once again! Casablanca, my birth city, was unrecognizable, overwhelmed by cars, traffic, and pollution.
My high school now accommodated both girls and boys, marking an improvement since, during my time, it was only for girls. However, what astonished me was that these girls were wearing Hijab! No, it wasn't an improvement for the girls!
In my neighbourhood, there was still an old building that was supposed to crumble, but guess what? It's still standing, hosting some very poor families. The whole street has transformed into an open market where everyone is selling something, perhaps to survive or maybe because they receive a lot of items from relatives living abroad in affluent countries, and they try to make money from it to make ends meet.
"who I am" speaks more to me than "where I am from"
After years of an identity crisis, I exactly know today who I am, and especially, where I am from. I am from different worlds where I have lived. I am an international citizen. I am like a bird, and birds don’t have boundaries. I don’t believe in countries, especially when I see during the World Cup how the teams are diverse with multiple identities.
I don’t believe in boundaries. I am a free spirit.
I was born in Casablanca, in a neighbourhood where I especially loved the people I connected with while growing up. The same people I didn't find any more when I went back.
I moved to France where I experienced my adult life—marriage, kids, work. Then to the USA, more of the same but with a new language, culture, and connections. I remember returning for my son’s graduation and felt like I was going back home—a strange feeling. This reminds me that home is a feeling, not a place.
Today, I view this question as an attempt to confine me to a frame, to fit me into a box, and to exert power over me. The reality is that I am shaped by all the life experiences I have had, the people I have met, and the connections I have made. I don’t belong to a single country; I belong to a neighborhood, to the people I connected with, to Moroccan food, to French patisseries, to French history, to the spirit of American runners. I belong here and there, I belong everywhere—limitless, free.
I invite you to watch this beautiful speech!
It explains a lot how we feel after being in another country for so long. What an interesting perspective. I think this is a nice viewpoint. It really got me thinking about the experiences that shaped me as a person. And how about you? Do you like or dislike this question? Do you perceive it as a form of asserting power over you or as a means of getting to know you better? I've had numerous discussions about this with my twin living in the USA, and we completely agree to disagree, as you can see ;) The essence is to talk to each other, to accept the other, their ideas, their convictions. It reminds me of a topic from the baccalaureate: "What is exoticism?" My answer is "exoticism is the other!"
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Crédit photo : les paresseuses