This weekend, I was having a little friendly chatter with an individual in the service industry, when they asked:

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what is your nationality?”

I took a breathe and thought about this for a moment. How much effort do I put into dealing with this situation? My kids are in the car and I’m on vacation.

“I’m Canadian” I tell him.

He looks at me. I look at him. We just look at one another.

He mouthed something like ‘oh’ and we went back to briefly talking about other things. I took another breathe and decided to deal with this.

“I’d like to give you some feedback on the question you just asked me, and why I recommend you not ask that of people”

“When you’re a person who isn’t white, you’re used to being othered. Of people assuming or insisting that you can’t possibly be Canadian or FROM here.

If you, a white man, were asked where you’re from - your first response would be enough.”

“Newfoundland? Canada? Whatever it is, it’s enough”. For people like me, people aren’t satisfied until they know where ‘my people’ are from. What my ancestry is, and any answer that doesn’t satisfy that just isn’t good enough.”

“When you ask me what my nationality is or where I’m from, it’s exhausting. It’s the 1000th time someone has asked me and I know I’ll be asked 1000 more times. “

Hindsight being 20/20, i wish I hadn’t have said Canadian. What I wish I had done was ask him why he wanted to know my nationality, and guided the conversation towards why that was meaningful to ask of a stranger.