Series: Going Back | "Where are you from?"

Kindergarten in Turkey

Summer in America

Small talk is not my forte. I’ve gotten better though.

Its interesting the go-to questions within small talk. “So what do you do?” and “Where are you from?” I like talking about my job. I love my job (most days!) and I love that photography brings people together, and everyone seems to like it.

However, nothing has stopped me in my tracks quite like “Where are you from?” Nothing sounds so simple, yet feels so aggressively personal as “Where are you from?”

Here’s the thing. I’m technically from Memphis. My birth certificate says Memphis, Tennessee, my passport says Tennessee, United States of America. When they stamp my passport at customs they say “Welcome home, Miss Frazier.” When I check my ethnicity on medical papers and forums, I have to check “white”.

I know those things are all true. I usually answer “Memphis, but I grew up in Turkey” That invites the next question of “Were you born there?” And I know I shouldn’t find this as a test of my “TCKness”, and I KNOW i’m projecting my insecurities. All I want is to be able to answer is “yes, i was born there”… but I can’t. Thats not true. I was born in America. I was born off Walnut Grove in Memphis, TN on December 2nd down the hall from my best friend, Sara Beth. “No, I was born here.” quickly followed with “But I was taken back after 6-8 weeks!!” And there is always this “oh.” And it really messes with me. The “oh.” feels like a punch in the gut. Something like “I thought you like legit grew up in Turkey, but you weren’t born there, SO you aren’t really THAT Turkish. That would have been cool if you had been born there. But oh well.”

I sometimes stare at the ethnicity check boxes while sitting on a uncomfortable leather chair in an uncomfortable waiting room. My pen lingers above other for a few seconds. “I don’t know what I am.” I always check white, because I feel dumb for having an identity crisis when they probably will never look at this forum twice, and it will be packed into a file that might get touched when I have the flu in like 2 years. Why does it bother me SO much?

So where am I from?

I’m from a 3 bedroom apartment with radiators under the window sills, hardwood floors, three bathrooms, but just one with a shower you have to manually light, and acs units that gave out every summer and spit ice at you during the night. I’m from airport gates and layovers in the Munich, Germany. I’m from the window seat with my nano ipod on shuffle pretending to sleep because I hate the airplane food. I’m from the painful hours of therapy so I could read and spell like everyone else. I’m from the fresh air in my lungs during summer camp off the Aegean. I’m from the 39 best friends I’ve had before I turned twenty one. I’m from every hello I said bravely and every goodbye I pretended wasn’t going to change me. I’m from vulnerable conversations with strangers I’ll never see again, but changed my life on that one train ride in 2017. I’m from the tears over facetimes between “I miss you”s. I’m from church parking lot doing stupid stuff after youth group. I’m from the dish room cleaning 200 plates and trays for two hours. I’m from the awkward photo-shoots edited with “sepia” with my friends in High School. I’m from spending weeks in Minnesota in the summers to feel at home just for a moment. I’m from crying on my counselors couch every week for nine months. I’m from the tax office in Shelby County applying for a business license. I’m from a roadtrip that reminded me why I love this life so much in 2018. I’m from the two bedroom apartment off poplar avenue that made me an adult and learn how to cook 3 meals a day, and the other two bedroom apartment off poplar avenue that has hosted some of the best friends I’ve ever ever ever had. I’m from the hours looking for the lost memory card. I’m from the hours every early morning breakfast with my grandmother that keeps everything in perspective. Where am I from. I’m from my story. That’s it. I’m not from Turkey. I’m not from America. I don’t know where I’m from, but I’m figuring out who I am.