I stumbled upon an essay by an anthropologist who had a diverse background before settling in Michigan.
But where is she actually from?
When I travel and a stranger asks if I’m from Michigan, I immediately reply: ‘I live there, but I’m not from there.’ I feel compelled to tell everyone about my immigrant past: ‘I was born in Cuba, my ancestors were Jews who spoke Yiddish and Judeo-Espanyol, and I grew up in New York. I live in Michigan because it’s where I work.’
Home for me is a similarly fluid concept. I have a house in Portland, Oregon, where I spend about half of the time. But I also feel at home on the road, going from place to place and making stops along the way.
Traveling itself feels like a home—and when I’m not in one home, I think of another.
Read the original essay.