The scenario usually unfolds this way. A Caucasian man or woman — standing in line at a grocery store, coffee shop, or fast-food outlet — confronts another customer or maybe even the clerk behind the counter, who’s been speaking with a noticeable accent. The Caucasian fires off the question as if it were a bullet coming out of a gun: Where are you from? The question carries an unmistakable, if unstated, meaning: Wherever you’re from, you ought to go back there, because you don’t belong here. Given everything the Trump Administration did to make life difficult for foreign-born people living in America, it’s not surprising the question “Where are you from?” carries such negative connotations. But maybe it’s time to give this question a second chance. Put it in a different context and speak it with a tone of curiosity rather than suspicion, and it can be a valuable tool for opening doors and building bridges.

I offer my own experience as a case-in-point. As an English instructor and a public-speaking tutor, I have asked many of my students “Where are you from?” I ask the question with interest and curiosity and with this clear, if unspoken, message: I would like to know where you’re from because I think your life experiences could teach me something of value. The answers I’ve gotten to the question have led to dialogues that have opened my eyes to different realities I would never have otherwise known. For example, I have

• learned what it’s like to live in an African refugee camp and have to travel four miles round-trip each day to bring a cask of water back to your family.
• heard about the confusion and chaos one experiences going through a Chinese “wet” market during the early morning hours.
• learned about the fear and helplessness Palestinian young people feel when passing through an Israeli military checkpoint.
• learned what it’s like to set foot in a large American city without knowing anyone there and with almost no ability to speak or understand English.
• discovered what it was like to be caught up in the Rwandan civil war of the early 1990s.
• received some insight to the economic challenges a foreign-born family faces when transplanting itself in the United States.

I should add that the question of Where are you from? can yield equally interesting answers when asked of students born and raised in the U.S.  It’s given me insights to what it’s like to be homeless, how it feels to save someone’s life as a first-responder, and how difficult it is to succeed in college when so many people are telling you that you’re sure to fail. In short, the question of Where are you from? is one that makes me realize that I learn as much from my students as they learn from me — maybe even more,

So with the Trump Administration fading into the past, let’s give the question of Where are you from? a second chance. Let’s pull it up, dust if off, and give it a new set of clothes. And let’s give it a new attitude, too. Instead of asking it as a challenge, let it be asked with the hope of learning something of worth. Instead of building a wall, let it open a pathway to understanding and empathy.