Where are you from?
It’s such a simple question, isn’t it? Four little words strung together in a way that seems designed to make small talk. Easy. Straightforward. Except when it’s not.
For me, answering that question is like trying to explain how to tie a shoelace while also juggling. There’s no single answer—at least, not one that feels entirely satisfying.
I was born in Newfoundland, which is often where the conversation starts. And if I leave it at that, people seem satisfied. “Oh, you’re from Newfoundland! Gorgeous place. What part?” They’ll ask if I love cod or if I know someone’s cousin’s uncle’s neighbour who lives near St. John’s. It’s tempting to nod along and lean into the identity. But the truth is, I’ve spent so little time in Newfoundland that calling myself a Newfoundlander feels…disingenuous. Most Newfoundlanders might agree with that assessment. I’ve got the birth certificate, sure, but that’s about as far as it goes. And you won’t catch me telling stories about hauling in the biggest fish or dancing a jig at a kitchen party.
So then, am I from Ontario? Well, that’s where I spent some of my childhood and a big chunk of my adult life. I’ve got memories of snowbanks that reached the sky and summer evenings filled with cicadas and campfires. It’s where I graduated high school, went to university, and met some lifelong friends. It’s definitely a strong contender, but even then, I’ve always felt like I was borrowing space, not truly rooted.
Maybe I’m from British Columbia, where I spent my awkward teenage years surrounded by towering mountains, the arid interior, and the salty breeze of the Pacific. BC feels like an old friend I lost touch with but still miss. Those years shaped me in ways I’m only now starting to appreciate, but I don’t think I ever truly settled in there, either.
And what about Alberta, where I’ve lived the longest as an adult? If we’re talking pure geography, it makes the most sense to say, “I’m from Alberta.” Thirteen years (and still going) has to count for something. Alberta has been good to me. It’s where I’ve built a life, made lasting connections, and felt a real sense of belonging. The endless skies, the northern forests, the friendly communities, and the steady rhythm of life here make it feel like home in a way that’s hard to put into words.
By now, the person who asked me the question is probably regretting it. They just wanted a quick answer—not an existential crisis served with a side of geography.
So, where am I from? Honestly, I think the best answer is, “I’m from Canada.” Not because it’s vague or evasive (though that’s a bonus) but because it feels true. Maybe, in some sense, I’m nomadic. Every province I’ve lived in has left a mark, shaped who I am, and taught me something unique. I’m from Newfoundland in the sense that it gave me my beginning. I’m from Ontario because it gave me stability and roots. I’m from British Columbia for the mountains and the sea, and I’m from Alberta for the northern living and the sense of home I’m still figuring out.
So the next time someone asks me, “Where are you from?” I’ll probably smile and say, “Oh, here and there. But mostly, I’m from Canada.” And if they push for more? Well, they’d better have time for a story.
The CJBuzz 