A well-traveled friend made a wonderful observation a couple of years ago. In America, she noted, the question “What are you?” is a normal conversation starter. People know what you mean when you ask it: What is your lineage? “What are you” on your mother’s side versus your father’s? Americans know you aren’t inquiring about their nationality — that’s a given.
The Europeans my friend had met, however, found this question odd and ridiculous when she asked them. “We’re in Munich, aren’t we? What do you think I am?”






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