Coming back from winter break, I was faced with so many questions: Where did you go? What did you do? Were you with family? These questions are very reminiscent of the ones I received when I first arrived at college, but the one that stands out to me to this day is, “Where are you from?”
This is a simple question and it should not require too much thought. To me, however, it is a very loaded question and I always struggle with how to respond. I was born in El Salvador and spent some of my most formative years there, ages 0 to 4. My grandma, aunt, uncles, and cousins still live there. We own a home there. El Salvador is a part of my identity so why do I struggle to say that I am just from El Salvador?
My family immigrated to the United States and we called Virginia home. I spent 15 years lugging my belongings in boxes from apartment to apartment; my address written in pencil and easily erasable. When I say that I am from Virginia, I get asked “what part?”; Do I say Springfield, Arlington, Alexandria, or Falls Church?
This past winter break, my family purchased their first home in Maryland, so I guess that now Maryland is home too? I will spend only a few months out of the year in Maryland; do I still have the right to claim it as a home?
These questions have plagued me for a long time but as I get older, I’ve come to realize that when I’m asked “Where are you from?’’, I cannot just list one of these places. I have memories in each of the places I’ve lived. I was born in San Salvador, El Salvador; I was primarily raised in different parts of northern Virginia, and I live in Maryland. All of these places are me.