The interchange at Buckingham Palace between Lady Susan Hussey, the late queen’s lady in waiting and Ngozi Fulani, a charity founder, in which Lady Hussey repeatedly asked Fulani where she was from, sparked a debate across the nation.

Can I ask people where they are from? 

People tend to fall into three camps here.

Yes. Some see the question as inherently harmless and an extremely normal thing to ask someone who you are seeking to get to know. Others assure me that they “have many friends from diverse backgrounds and none of them mind being asked where they are from”. Many see the very existence of this conversation as the highest example of the “political correctness” gone too far. 

No. People in this camp take a hard line. We should never ask people where they are from unless they choose to offer that information up. They believe that the question is inherently othering, another way of saying “you’re not from here”. Some even see this question as an everyday tool of white supremacy, re-enforcing the message “you’re not like us” so  “you’re not welcome here”. 

It depends. The third camp, in which I firmly sit, is that it depends. We can neither give a blanket pass to this question if we are trying to build a more inclusive world, nor should we ban it altogether. We advocate for thinking about the nuance of the question and determining ways for us to move forward together.  

Why does it depend? I myself have been asked this question multiple times and my response varies depending on multiple factors, mostly who is asking; when and why they are asking; what mood I’m in and what has happened in the run-up to me meeting that question. There are times when I will delight in the question as an invitation to speak proudly about my heritage. But if the same person asked me that question directly after I’d had the all-too-familiar experience of being trailed around a store by a security guard, I might be less inclined to receive that question favourably.  

The point here is that for many people of colour, this question isn’t just another innocent getting-to-know-you question. It brings with it an invisible suitcase filled with a personal and ancestral history of being made to feel that we aren’t welcome. It contains the painful memories of when we were first called the n-word, the p-word, the c-word or the list of other derogatory terms that exist to tell us “we don’t want you here”.  

And yet the answer cannot be to ban this question altogether, because questions like “where are you from” and “what do you do” are key in forming connection with others, and what is inclusion if not a genuine will to connect with all people. But we must be awake to the fact that this question carries baggage and be skilled in using it in a way that connects rather than excludes.  

Here are three things to consider when using this question.  

1. The difference between “where are you from” and “where are you really from”  

Imagine the scene—you ask where someone is from, and they say Huddersfield. That wasn’t what you meant, you think. You meant what is their heritage (or to put it bluntly, why are they brown). And so you ask again, “No, where are you really from”. The first answer someone gives you is the way they view themselves, or what they are willing to share in that moment. If you have to ask a follow-up question, what you are saying is “I don’t accept your first answer” and so, in this example, implicitly saying “I don’t accept that you are British”.  

2. When, who and why you ask it?  

When—is this the first question that you ask people of colour? If so, consider that this might send the message that this is all you see and fortify the sense they may be carrying that you don’t see them as a whole person. Who—do you ask this to everyone? If not, consider that you may be carrying conscious or unconscious biases around who gets to be “from here”? Why—are you asking to genuinely connect or is there another agenda here? If you are asking because you want to tell them how much you know about their culture or to confirm preconceived ideas about who they are, consider that you might have another agenda beyond genuine connection. 

3. How would you react if someone was offended by this question?  

For some, the baggage that this question carries with it is so great that no matter how skilfully and innocently you ask this question it cannot help but trigger a feeling of exclusion. In the event that you do offend someone with this question, do you get defensive or are you open, curious and willing to learn more? Similarly if you choose to “call someone out” for asking this question, do you do so with compassion, taking into account the golden rule of “it depends”, calling them into deeper reflection rather than scaring them away from asking that question ever again and pushing them further out of the conversation.  

Building a truly inclusive organisation depends on us having honest, meaningful and skilful conversations about sensitive topics. This question is a great place to start.