Where are you from?

Poorna Patange shares experiences she and others have had as Canadians working in Europe.

Where are you from?  Canada. Where are you actually from?  Canada. But where are you from?  Canada.

And the questioning would continue until I gave in to saying my parents are Indian. The fact that I am a naturalized Canadian that has never lived in India was baffling to the average, polite stranger in Brussels. Although I have never been able to fully identify with any nationality, I am in most respects a Canadian. As a child, my family took great efforts to educate me about their culture, while providing me with the comforts and freedoms of suburban North American life; a phenomenon which is common to many first-generation children. My extracurricular education was a balancing act in consumption of western and eastern culture. While my brother and I would read the great works of western literature together, my mother insisted I go to Indian classical dance class, in a town an hour away, to learn the stories upon which her values where built.

Having spent most of my life in this flux I am always thrown off by questions of my identity. It never seems enough to introduce myself with a name, possibly my occupation, or some other pleasantry about myself. My name, Poorna, is obviously foreign, and can be mispronounced quite easily. Over the years, I have broken it down into the more digestible phrase of “It’s like, Oh my god I’m so Poor but na” which usually gets a few laughs, in hopes of avoiding conversations about my background. Unfortunately, my introduction is almost always followed by Oh where are you from? or What does that mean? as if I suddenly became an exotic specimen from a holistic, yoga-practicing, spiritually-in-touch society that understands the value of tradition. That I don’t adhere to the norms of their perception of a society I am not from, and can point out the flaws in the idealization, has led to personal strife. To the outside world my identity has always been predominantly related to my not-so-unique heritage. While in Canada this discussion proceeds without a doubt of my Canadian-ness or Indian-ness, I still strive to have identity without nationality. For four months in Europe, my insistence that my identity is my nationality has left me unsure of who I am.

To the average European I am considered an Indian because of my ethnicity. Frequently in India I am considered a foreigner because of my behavior and accent. Most often I am ‘that cousin from Canada,’ even though I have spoken Marathi with my mother since I can remember, and have a comprehensive understanding of the social intricacies of that culture. I understand that the homogeny of India makes me stick out like a sore thumb despite my parent’s efforts to teach me about their culture. However, I do not understand how these ideas of ethnicity can exist in a diverse city like Brussels. As the heart of the European Union, with an apparent population of visible minorities from many countries, I had expected to experience the same diverse national ambiguity I have had the privilege of maintaining in past social circles.

Returning to the School of Architecture my classmates shared similar experiences where the idea of multiculturalism as an identity was questioned. I imagine the question of identity based in nationality resonates with many Canadians, as we all live in some flux of understanding and adopting from each other’s traditions. My insistence of being Canadian is based in this understanding of Canada as a non-nationality. A student who worked in Copenhagen recounted a conversation where she was asked what Canadians look like. At a loss for any real answer she responded jokingly “probably East-Asian.” Outside of North America, the expectation of homogeneity has withstood changes in the races that make up a city.

Another student who does not fit into the European assumption of North-American ethnicity was asked to show a passport to prove their nationality while arranging for a bank account.  Even when he showed his passport the bank teller was in disbelief that he could be Canadian. In similar positions, I have felt powerless against the identity projected on me.

In the most extreme case a neighbor called the police, villainizing a student for her ethnicity when her family came to visit and was deemed too dark to be in the neighborhood. In the same co-op experience she was also told she was too dark to be from Canada, as if the only criteria for her identity is ethnicity. Neither ethnicity or nationality should govern the identity we each have a right to formulate. In the relative comfort of Canada I had become fairly sure of my transient non-national identity, considering it a Canadian phenomenon. Stepping outside of that bubble my fragile theories stood no chance against constant questioning.

Although my illusion of an identity based solely on my self-understanding has dissipated, by no means have my experiences turned me off the prospects of working in Europe. Mostly in consolation, I have taken this stark awakening as a chance to increase my self-awareness, to form a stronger sense of independent identity. Perhaps our shared experiences, as students in a program where one must move from place to place in a short period of time, will encourage us all to form identities that are tied to no place. One day I hope my identity is not so fragile that someone else’s claim determination that I am not from one place or another becomes irrelevant to how they should perceive me.

Poorna Patange is an undergraduate student at the University of Waterloo School of Architecture.