Where are you from?
It seems today’s society defines us – our character, our knowledge, our capabilities, our strengths and weaknesses – by our nationality. Here in Europe, we are not Europeans. We are English, French, Dutch, Spanish, Greeks, Polish, Hungarians or Romanians. And I am not going to carry on to the United States or Africa for that matter. You all know the story.
If that’s not enough, some want to build walls. Others speak about jobs only for nationals. Or even about a country where only the ones who come from the ancient civilisations are welcomed. Nations. Boarders. Peoples. Does all of these make sense in 2016? I repeat 2016.
“Where are you from?” has become the most annoying question. I am from the neighbourhood, from the city, from here, from far away and from nowhere. Does it matter that much? Aren’t we suppose to be what to want to be – communicators, managers, business developers, scientists, teachers, artists, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters – all or none at all.
I am not defined by nationality(ies), nor by the languages I speak. And I will never be. My son is not French, nor is he Romanian. My son is a wonderful little boy who loves cucumbers, wild animals, books and trains. He could tell much, much better what else he likes and dislikes.
It’s really astonishing, how little have we learnt. How low have we gotten and how much work we will need to fix it. It’s astonishing that when some have multi planetary visions others spend their time asking people where they are from.
Until next time…
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