What's your nationality?

What's your nationality?

It's a simple question with responses about being German, English, French, more likely a combination of ancestral heritage. I've asked the question of friends and friends have asked the question of me. And we've answered without much thought to the question or our answer.

It's a conversation starter.

But not the type of conversation I was expecting when I asked a friend while hiking this past summer.

Her answer startled me. Embarrassed me. And made me think.

"What's your nationality?" I asked.

"I'm American." she replied.

But of course she is. I had not intended for my question to imply that she wasn't. I sputtered an apology and reframed my question and she answered, Taiwanese, and our conversation continued. As did the conversation in my head.

I wondered why I was startled and embarrassed until I realized that she had slapped me upside the head with my white privilege as my mother would have slapped me when I did something stupid. A solid backhanded slap that let me know she was tired of my antics. Here I was getting the verbal equivalent from my hiking buddy.

I know I have privilege. I was not born with the proverbial silver spoon - far from it. I was a farm kid who ate her pets. For a time when dad was out of work, I would accompany mom to the food bank for our weekly allotment of butter, cheese, and oatmeal. I was however born with a hereditary silver spoon - I was born a white American. And I have benefited from that privilege - simple things mostly like being served more graciously than people of color were served. Yes, I've noticed the difference.

You see, to be born white in America grants you the privilege of never having to remind people that you are an American. You never have to defend your American heritage. It is automatically assumed. We've all made that mistake - looking at a European family vacationing here and not realizing they're tourists until they start speaking. But my friends who are Asian and my friends who are Hispanic, well it's assumed that they were not born here or, worse yet, are "illegal".

We expect People of Color to prove to us that they are American instead of assuming that they are.

My question that I asked my friend - how many times have you actually been asked, "What's your nationality?" I know I haven't been asked very often. Have you? I neglected to ask, but I am sure my friend has been asked that question all her life and far too often than she'd like to recall. I am sorry I added to that list. It was my assumptions based on my privilege that made me ask.

I was reminded of this conversation today when I saw a "corrected" meme. The original meme stated that It doesn't matter if you're black, white, yellow or brown - You're an American start acting like it. The corrected version stated that Whether you're black, white, yellow or brown - You're an American start treating each other like it.

I really don't have the answers for all of us to magically get along, but I know that taking the time to ask the wrong questions, listening to the response then finding a better question - a conversation can get started.