When People Ask Where I’m ‘Really’ From, I Finally Have an Answer
<p>“No, where are you <em>really</em> from? You know, China, Japan?”</p>
<p>I stare at my questioner. Standing on the sidewalk, she cradles a baby doll and wears a dingy blanket draped over her head. While hardly a child, the woman studies me with an air of innocence.</p>
<p>“I was born in the United States. <em>I am American</em>.”</p>
<p>As she furrows her brow and begins to protest, I abruptly turn and walk away. My dismissiveness may have been unkind, but my own feelings of exclusion have left me in an unforgiving mood. Was she asking out loud what others privately wondered about me?</p>
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