Where are you from? It’s such a simple question but with such complicated answers. When I’m asked this question, people are always expecting me to say “China”. When I answer with “United States”, without skipping a beat they follow up with “No, where are you really from?” Boy, does that set me off.

Yes, by blood I am 100% Chinese with my ancestry originating from Hong Kong, but I’ve never lived there a day in my life. I’ve never even set foot in Asia, despite the 55 countries I’ve made my way to. I fumble my way through dim sum orders with my broken Cantonese, banking on the names of the dishes I’ve memorized over the years. I speak this mangled mixture of Cantonese and English to my grandma, grammatically setting up the sentences in Cantonese but filling in the bigger words with English. See this wonderfully hilarious video of how I feel when I speak Cantonese. I struggle to make sense of why my physical appearance seems to define me even before words come out of my mouth. So, if “Where are you from” means “Where does your ancestry originate,” I guess you could say I’m from Hong Kong. But how can I say I’m from somewhere I’ve never even stepped foot in?

If “Where are you from” means “Where did you grow up,” I’d say I’m from San Francisco. But I left before I even turned 18 and only recently moved back here. If you asked me for bar recommendations or hole-in-the-wall restaurants, I’d honestly do a quick Google search for you. I left before I was even old enough to drink! I grew up in a small town in the San Francisco Bay Area that my parents picked out. Growing up, we called is Boraga instead of Moraga because there was nothing to do. But this was the life my parents laid out for me, sending me to a top-ranked high school, sheltering me in a small town, and essentially mapping out the first 17 years of my life. How can that be where I’m from when the person I was then was the reflection of my parents’ decisions? How can that be where I’m from when I know a lot less about the layout of that city than I do of places I’ve lived in since then?

If “Where are you from” means “Where can you navigate with the most ease” I’d say Boston. But a half an hour conversation with me and you’d know that I didn’t have a tough enough shell to be a masshole (Massachusetts asshole). When driving, I’d let people cut into my lane until my GPS told me that I’ve added an extra 10 minutes to my route. I’d get yelled at for walking too slow on the sidewalk. And I’d rather wait for the walk sign to come on than calculate how fast I’d have to walk between cars flying down the street to make it to the other side alive. But at the end of the day, I can navigate the city with total comfort. Walking on an unfamiliar street, it wouldn’t be long before I found myself at a familiar point. I could name you my go-to bars, clubs, coffee shops, and bookstores. People would tell you that there’s one Vietnamese restaurant that I take all my dates to without fail (shout out Pho Basil). Just three and a half years in Boston and I’d tell you that I’m still most comfortable in that city (despite never getting used to the winters). But can I be from a place where I don’t fit the description of the stereotypical resident?

Having lived a year in both Spain and Kenya, I’d call those places home as well but I think the locals and long-term expats would scoff if they heard me saying I was from Spain or Kenya. I lived there on tourist visas. I never quite mastered either Spanish or Swahili. And at the end of the day, I didn’t look Spanish or Kenyan. While I was living in Spain and Kenya, I did some extensive travelling, making my way through Europe and exploring East & Southern Africa. If “Where are you from” means “Where are you currently keeping all your stuff,” at that time I’d say Spain or Kenya but can you imagine how many times I’d get the ”No, where are you really, really from” question?! Can I be from a country where I have to produce my visa every time I cross its borders?

So, what did I say when I was travelling in Tanzania and got the “Where are you from” question? As any other third-culture kid who found their way into an entirely new country would say, I said “I was born in the United States. My family is originally from Hong Kong. But I currently live in Kenya. I’m not really from anywhere.” You know, the simple answer… A simple question with a wildly complicated answer.

So, what do we ask? What question do we ask that fully encompasses what home means to us without putting people in boxes based on appearances or accents? What question do we ask third-culture kids who have found themselves floating between cultures, never quite fitting into one or the other?

For me, I’d like to be asked “Where is home?”

Home, to me, wears multiple hats. I don’t believe there’s any one answer to what home means but I certainly don’t think that the Webster dictionary definition of home fully encompasses what home really means to a lot of us. Home means something so different to each of us. A meaning based on experiences, memories, and moments.

It could be physical: A place you’ve lived in for a defined amount of time. A particular house. A neighborhood. An entire city. Or it could be an idea: The friendships you’ve built. The person you want to spend the rest of your life with. The routines you’ve made. The “roots” you’ve established. Or it could be a feeling: The feeling of comfort, security, and ease.

With the question “Where is home,” I get full range to answer with whatever I understand home to be in that particular moment, whether it’s where I’m currently living, my ancestry, my hometown, or where my loved one is. While my answer doesn’t get you the logical, she-belongs-in-this-box answer you’re looking for, it gives you insight into who I really am, someone who isn’t defined by where she’s been, what she looks like, or what language she speaks.

So, I’ll answer your “Where are you from” questions. I’ll even answer your “No, where are you really from” questions. But what does that really tell you about me? Does it really give you any insight into who am I? Does categorizing me as American or Chinese help you understand me? Growing up in a generation that constantly craves adventure, we are shedding our American, Brazilian, English, South African labels. We are becoming a collection of the places we’ve lived, explored, and embraced. And I strive to continue to push beyond the “Where are you from” labels and become a citizen of the world.

As Pico Iyer puts it “Home, in the end, is of course not just the place where you sleep. It’s the place where you stand.” A place where we find comfort. A place where we can be ourselves, no frill, no fluff. And a place, whether in the comforts of our own bedroom, in the arms of loved ones, or amidst a bustling street of an unfamiliar city, where we stand our tallest. Adventure is out there!