What’s Wrong with Asking “Where Are You From?”
Asking someone, “Where are you from?” can seem like a very innocuous question but can quickly turn into a microaggression.
Job and life advice for young professionals. See more from Ascend here.
Four years ago, I moved to New York to start pursuing my journalism degree at a graduate program in the city. I spent my first week researching and reporting an audio story about the local farmer’s market. When I handed it in, my professor looked down at the script I had written, looked back up at me, and said, “Your English is good. Where are you from?”
While that was supposed to be a compliment, it didn’t feel like a pat on the back. Whether it was based on how I looked, sounded, or information the professor had gathered about me beforehand, their tone implied that, because I was an international student, my ability to write English well (or not) was tied to my geographical and cultural background. I was confused and hurt.
This is a question we all ask — and get asked — very often. It comes up during the 10-minute chats we have with our Uber drivers, in job interviews, and even during that awkward small talk at office parties. It may be a question that’s asked out of curiosity (and I do believe that is usually the case), but it has the potential to trigger something very personal: Our sense of belonging. And, that, for a lot of us, can look like alienation.
Here is the problem: For those of us who already feel “different” in a given space, being asked where we’re from carries implicit assumptions about our race, caste, ethnicity, nationality, etc. Often, it translates into: You don’t seem to (already) belong here. It validates existing beliefs about social identities and can be quite patronizing. For instance, following-up the question with, “Oh, of course” or “Yes, you do look like you’re from [country]” can force people into neat categories of race, gender, or nationality, without acknowledging the nuances of that person’s identity.
None of us have singular identities and most of us belong in many places. People can belong in different geographies, cultures, and identities at the same time. Most of us don’t identify with markers we were born with. So, to me, the question, “Where are you from?” is very reductive.
But that’s how I feel about it — and lately, I’ve been thinking, “How do others perceive this question, especially if it’s asked in a professional setting?”
So, I reached out to four of my colleagues at Harvard Business Publishing across the globe — who also led an internal Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging panel recently — and asked them how they feel when someone asks them, “Where are you from?”
Here’s what I learned from my discussions with them.
For Stefano McGhee, a colleague based in the U.S., his last name has always garnered a lot of attention. “My first name is Italian, the last name is Irish, and my paternal family is Black, based in Alabama. So, when I introduce myself to someone, the follow-up question usually is about where I’m from,” he says. However, he doesn’t mind it. In fact, it wasn’t until he was 25 that he learned about the origins of his last name.
“During the time of slavery in the [American] South, slaves often took the last name of the slave owner,” he explains. “Somewhere in my history, my ancestors were held by an owner named McGhee.”
McGhee finds the question fascinating and wonders if there are others like him, with similar stories about their roots. However, he adds that he is always mindful of the context of the question while he’s answering it. “I’m usually okay if a friend asks me that, but it doesn’t make sense in formal, work situations.”
Why? Because questions about someone’s identity can be a microaggression — especially at work. A microaggression is a behavior or action — whether accidentally or purposefully — that subtly undermines someone’s identity by playing into the stereotypes or historic biases about social groups. While the question may not be born out of malicious intent, it can have a serious consequence or impact on the people it is directed towards. In the context of racism, anti-immigration, and anti-minority sentiments, this “curiosity” about someone’s perceived race, ethnicity, and nationality can be quite damaging.
Trisha Rai, a former colleague who lives in India, explains that asking this question can often stereotype people. “When someone tells you, they are from [country], and your response is, ‘Oh I love [that country’s] food/music/movies/characters,’ it reduces their complex identities to your limited understanding of a social/identity group they belong to.”
That’s harmful because it turns an individual into a representative for a specific culture or identity — and that can be really exhausting for the individual on the receiving end. This often looks like: “Do you have any ideas on how we can celebrate [insert festival] at work?” or “What’s going on with this [news affecting that group]?” This can put pressure on the individual to be responsible to educate others about a specific culture or identity, which turns out to be a lot of work (work that the person asking should really be doing).
Maria Ortega, a colleague from Mexico City, says that asking about people’s backgrounds can be an opportunity to build an honest, trusting relationship. But it all depends on how you ask the question — and what you say next.
“The tone, the facial expressions, and the follow-up questions — all of that tells me what this person really wants to know,” she says. “For instance, you wouldn’t just ask a colleague if they have kids,” she says. “But, in a conversation, if they mention or talk about their kids, then you can build a conversation from there.”
Ortega uses a test to gauge the intentions of the people who put her in a tight spot. “I always wait for the next question someone asks after they hear where I’m from,” she says. That tells her whether the questioner is really interested in getting to know her or whether they’re looking to confirm their own judgments or unconscious bias. If it’s the latter, it’s a microaggression.
It’s also about who is asked — and who gets to ask these questions. “It is likely that many of us might be okay with asking our juniors or colleagues about their background, but how many of us have actually asked a senior executive a similar question?” asks Rai. To her, it also reflects power relations between individuals.
Questions about our last names, looks, accents, and culture may reinforce and magnify differences between a marginalized community and the majority demographic — which can trigger feelings of alienation.
It made me realize (and I’m ashamed to admit) that the only people I have ever asked this question to have been people of color. Often, I have been perplexed (even if I don’t express it) when another South Asian friend has identified as British or American.
So, here’s a question Rai nudges us to ask ourselves, “Why am I even asking this question? What do I hope to gain from this specific question, as opposed to say, asking someone about their favorite holiday destination or music band?”
From my conversations, I learned that there are no easy answers to this question. It can mean different things in different contexts. For me, I’d be okay telling someone my background history if I met them on a solo trip halfway across the world, but not always in a professional context — particularly if the question feels like it’s coming from a place of ignorance or mal-intent (consciously or not).
The tricky thing about microaggressions is that they are mostly unconscious biases — which means it’s so much more important to be mindful of where, when, and how you ask questions about someone’s identity.
How can you start? First, know that you will make mistakes. “It is often in these uncomfortable moments, that we are able to engage with why these questions are problematic and learn from them,” Ortega says.
“For instance, the use of words like ‘partner’ instead of wife or husband and pronouns like ‘they’ instead of the binary ‘he’ and ‘she’ weren’t common to use at work until a few years ago. It was only because people were called out and made aware of their unconscious biases that we were able to change and use more inclusive language,” she explains.
Consider this article your callout. Here’s what you can do to change:
Become more aware of your place in the world and the impact your status has on those around you. My Canadian colleague, Mary Shaw, said something that really stayed with me: “I realize that I’m someone with privilege. Of my skin. Of my nationality. Of my general place in the world. And that awareness is useless if it doesn’t translate into more accountability.”
According to Shaw, that means operating from a place of kindness. And kindness means different things to different people. “For me, that translates into making personal connections with people — from the simplicity of smiling and saying hello when out on walks (a common politeness in our small town) to never asking “Where are you from?”
Pro tip: More privilege means more accountability.
Ortega shared how change only happens when we start to listen more than we speak. “The only way to eliminate unconscious biases is to listen more deliberately when someone speaks,” she says. “Listen to what details they give you and have a conversation. Don’t try to box someone’s identity based on what you believe to be markers of said identities.”
Before you ask personal questions, be willing to get to know someone better. “The best we can do for ourselves and for historical injustices goes far beyond asking where someone is really from. Better questions surround who they want to be, what their aspirations are, what specific needs you can help them with,” Rai explains.
Pro tip: Instead of inquiring about someone’s background, ask, “What is it that you’d like me to know about you?”
If you ask something that you immediately regret, address it. Say, “I’m sorry if I crossed a line there. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t feel comfortable.” If someone doesn’t respond positively to you, understand that they may not be willing to address the question, and let it go.
Pro tip: Avoid saying, “Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” or, “I was just joking.” Be sincere in how you apologize and move on from the conversation.
In my case, I didn’t confront or seek clarification from my professor. But, if I could go back in time, I’d say, “Thank you, but is there a reason that you asked me where I’m from?” It’s a strategy I’ve learned from a friend — to ask “Why?” until someone sees through their own (unconscious) biases.
These conversations can feel awkward to address, especially in multicultural and global workplaces. And that’s okay. All it takes is a little bit of self-awareness and a lot of accountability, so diversity actually makes people feel included.
What are some of the other uncomfortable or awkward situations you face at work that are hard to navigate? You can let us know here and we’ll get an expert to address your concerns.
What’s Wrong with Asking “Where Are You From?”
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