“Where Are You From?” – The Question That Breaks Minds and gave birth to ABROADIEN
“Where are you from?” Here we go again. The simple question feels so complicated. It immediately begs another: “Where do you want me to start? Do you mean the last country or the few before that? Do you want to know how I identify, or the birthplace written on my passport, which might be totally pointless because my passport’s country is something different again?”
Thousands of questions run through your head because you don’t know what to answer. Yet there’s also that doubt—does it actually matter? If you tell them, will they know? Or will it just end with the usual aaaah, and the conversation dies as fast as it was born? Because, quite frankly, 90% of the people who ask this question are strangers, and 99% of the time, you will never see them again.
The Multi-Country Life Puzzle
Imagine you are born to one parent from country A and another from country B. You’ve lived in country C, but recently moved to country D. You have dual nationality because you can (and why not), and you speak three languages. How long will it take you to answer this “simple” question?
You spend ten minutes explaining your life journey, identity, and all the marvellous mess that comes with it. Because if you just say “London,” they act like a true smart-ass and reply, “But where are you REALLY from?”
Once you give this exhausting answer and finish with the last country you lived in, thanks to nonexistent geographical knowledge, the cashier at Tesco just blanks out. Then you face your own emotional storm, trying to stay polite and not roll your eyes, thinking Why not just stick to talking about the weather?
Experiments in Answering
After a couple of battles like this, I used to play a game. When I couldn’t be bothered, I’d pick a random country—but then I felt I was stealing something that wasn’t mine. I also found it difficult to keep up with the lies.
Then I started saying just the last country I literally landed from. Factually correct, and something I could actually remember. My last encounter was in Malta. A taximan asked me the dreaded question. I replied, “Spain.” And don’t you know it?
“Heeey, I’m a Spaniard too!” and switched to Spanish. Joder, was I in another pickle again! I thought to myself.
To hold my ground, I continued in Spanish, thank god I could, admitting I live in Campo de Gibraltar, which he heard as “I am Gibraltarian,” which wasn’t what I said. I simply resigned.
I also used to admit in Spain that I am a “guiri,” but a Spaniard recently corrected me: since I speak Spanish, I’m apparently not one. Oh, the pride I felt in that moment made me three metres taller!
But then… damn it, so what am I? Why not just say the passport country, or the country you were born or the nationality you got from your parents? Maybe because it just doesn’t feel like YOU anymore? You can be proud of your born nationality but still feel like abroadien, a foreigner from somewhere else.
Surely there must be people like me—lived abroad too long, collected other pieces of identity along the way, or are even unsure what they are supposed to be. Your born identity does not feel 100% you anymore, or the nationality you inherited from your parents does not feel quite right, no matter what others tell you who you should or shouldn’t be.
Introducing Abroadien
Who are we then? Who are people like me? How about we don’t try to fit an existing box, we create our own! The people who live these moments every day. We are Abroadiens.
What we’re not: We’re not the type who move abroad only to live in a safe, privileged bubble, ordering the same food every week (in English, preferably) and pretending the world around us hasn’t changed. We’re not content staying insulated, watching life pass by from a comfort zone.
abroadien
(noun) /əˈbrɔːdiən/
Definition (noun):
A person who lives abroad and fully embraces the chaos, comedy, and occasional confusion of it. They stumble, adapt, learn the local language (bad accent included) or are born into multilingual and multinational chaos, and collect little pieces of culture—and identity—along the way. People who refuse to stay in a privileged bubble, preferring adventure, learning, and real experiences. They might fit one nationality label, or several.
I am Abroadien, collecting tiny pieces of every culture I live in, like souvenirs for my soul.
I am Abroadien, embracing confusion, chaos, and all the tiny wins that come with life abroad.
Plural (nouns): Abroadiens
Adjective: abroadien
Describing the mindset or behaviour of someone fully immersed in abroad life.
Feeling particularly abroadien this morning—mixing up greetings in three languages at the market.
Examples (adjective):
- That was such an abroadien mistake—mixing up idioms and causing a small scene in the café.
- He handled the new city like an abroadien pro: awkward, enthusiastic, and totally immersed.
Synonym: citizen of the world 🌍
Antonym: expat (the type who prefers the safe, privileged bubble and English menus 😏)
Are You Abroadien Too?
If you’ve ever mixed languages in one sentence, called your home the place where your toothbrush lives, made friends with locals, and loved the messiness of life abroad… you might be an Abroadien too.
This isn’t just my word—it’s become my “citizen of the world” identity, just shorter. It’s a simple answer to a simple question:
“Where are you from?” → “I am from abroad. I am Abroadien, but now I live here and I am loving it.”
And if you’re nice enough, I might just tell you my whole life story.
So… where are you from? And more importantly, are you Abroadien too?
Check out more stories from “Life in translation“.