Passport, please (part 2)

(part 1)

I recently stumbled upon an intriguing word: 교포 (pronounced “gyopo” or “kyopo”).

My basic understanding is that it refers to Korean people who live (or have lived) abroad. If, as a Korean national, you have lived abroad for a certain period of time (following your parents who are moving abroad, studying, working…), other Korean nationals may refer to you as a 교포. It also seems that you can’t really get rid of this label, even if and when you choose to settle back to Korea, but I can’t really find much about this aspect.

The actual concept is probably much more nuanced and complex, but for the context of this post, I only want to point out that this word simply exists (if you have a few minutes to spare, I suggest reading this short article to learn a little more about it).

I can’t think of an equivalent word in English or in French, and that’s what I find so interesting about it. It feels very different from “foreigner” or “non-national”, while still borrowing from these two concepts, and adding a lot of complexity into it. And like many other words in any language, its full meaning and perception can vary widely, depending on the person using it, as well as on the person hearing it.

I don’t know enough about this word to know if I like it, but I like that I found it.

What I discovered is that, for a very long time, I might have been trying to find a word that doesn’t exist (in the languages I can speak, at least). A word that would describe a feeling of “not really being from [somewhere]”. While imperfect, it is the simplest description I can give to this thing. This thing being how I have felt, as well as how other people have made me feel, for a really long time.

I’m not sure where this comes from, but I’ve always thought that you were supposed to have a simple and straightforward answer to this “where are you from?” question. The vast majority of people I’ve met in my life have that. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that “where are you from” is a loaded question, but I still think twice about what to say when I’m asked, even today. If you wonder why, well, so do I.

Because I know the answer to this question. The answer to this question is “France”. I’m from France. I’m French. I was born in France, and the only passport I own is a French passport. I’m not “half-this half-that”. I don’t have any other nationality.

The thing is that - unlike the majority of people who may be asked the same question - my looks don’t match my answer. I look anything but French. Indonesian, cambodian, indian, thai, bangladeshi, malaysian, maldivian, you name it. I’ve heard them all. And if you believe that it doesn’t make any difference, that it isn’t relevant to the question, or that it just doesn’t matter (I’ve heard this one so many times), I have some bad news for you.

The difference it makes is a question that inevitably follows the first one. More often than not, I expect a follow up question along the lines of “but… where are you really from?”, “but… where are your parents from?”, or a few other variations. I’ve met people visibly confused, and clearly too embarassed to ask. This had led me to preemptively just telling them where my parents are from, and save them the embarassment of asking why I don’t look French. I know this sounds weird, but this is the answer to the question they don’t dare asking. I’ve also met people who just didn’t seem to care. But most people have no problem asking me this second question.

I genuinely don’t think that it comes from a bad place, or that the person asking this question does it with bad intentions. I believe it comes from a strange mix of healthy curiosity, deeply rooted habits, and the lack of exposure to cultures others than your own.

The thing is that every time I’ve got this follow-up question, it felt like I had to justify myself. Every time I’ve got this follow-up question, it felt like being told I’m not really French, despite knowing full well that I am. This follow-up question has made me feel, more than once, and for a very long time, that I wasn’t really from there.

Is there a word for that?

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