Go back to where you came from!”
I don’t need to tell you how many times I have heard the above command from strangers. I just want you to understand how confusing it is when people yell this at me from their cars and then speed away.
My identity journey
Let’s examine the statement: “Go back to where you came from!” I moved to Chicago suburbs from the north side of Chicago. City dwellers don’t think suburbanites are real Chicagoans. Oh well.
My parents immigrated from Hyderabad, India. Should I go back there? Let’s imagine I get on a flight tomorrow and actually, “Go back to where I came from.” India, which is the world’s biggest democracy, just had an election where populism is the new norm. The new political party thinks all Muslims should leave India and that India should go back to a country where only Hindus, Sikhs and Buddhists live, no Christians or Muslims. A Hindu Indian might yell, “Go back to where you came from!”
Ok, I guess I have to get on another flight. Where do I go? If I trace my ancestry, in the 1700s, my ancestors moved from Uzbekistan to India. I guess I’ll go to Uzbekistan. I don’t speak Uzbek, eat Uzbek food, or wear Uzbek clothing but they better accept me with open arms nevertheless. I don’t think they will because really, do I have a home anywhere in this world? I do. It’s United States.
The States are my home.
And no matter how many times a stranger in a car yells at me, “Go back to where you came from!” my response will be the same. Yes, I will go back to my house in the Chicago suburbs with my messy little garden and drink a cup of coffee on my property in this great land because this is where I’m from.
Thanks for the reminder stranger.