Meanwhile in North Western Europe
My friend told me about a conversation which brought her to tears (or at least nearly), by shattering her sense of self confidence: because of her last name, an interviewer (this was for an international position - the interview took place in English) had asked her "where she was from, and why she decided to come to thus country". She, of course, had been born and raised in said country. She was shocked, hurt and offended - all at once. I felt for her at first, feeling her pain, but then when I thought about it, it made zero sense to me.
I wondered why I did not understand her feelings about that simple question... of interest? Or was there something else to it?
I know the question all too well - it is usually the second or third question people ask me upon meeting me, often even the first. And then it dawned on me: the question made complete sense to me and would not offend me, because I am used to it. My Grandmother still jokes about the time an adult asked me the question when I was around two, and I replied with the name of the city we had just moved from. But then when I grew older people did not laugh, but posed the second question "no, I mean where you are really from?" I then figured out I had to reply my birth country, in Africa.
It made sense to me, because if you are black, this is a normal question to ask. Obviously, you cannot be European if your skin is black. This sentiment carried out by most people around you, gives you a sense that you do not belong from an early age, and thus you are not shocked when people confirm this. In the news, in Parliament, in school, even in your circle of acquiaintants.
We focus on "integration", not segregation, like those silly Americans. But do we really? I remember an incident where I - how ironic! - was looking for a spot to study for my law exams. A lady who apparently thought I was lost said: "Oh, you (as in "tu", not "vous") must be looking for the language course!" I kindly replied in her language that I in fact was not, and she said: "Oh, but if your friends want to learn Dutch, let us know!"
It is patronizing, it is painful, but most of all, I saw through the eyes of my friend it really tells you you're not like us, and for all you try to integrate (or in my case, have been a part of the culture for all your life and not even know any different culture) we will never fully see you as one of us.
It was quite interesting for me to realize how much of that I had already accepted and even adopted. I guess I am a product of my culture in every sense I possibly could be - even in thinking of myself as foreign.
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