MEMORIES THAT DEFINE A DUBAI CHILDHOOD

Expat youth navigates belonging, identity, and the transient nature of the city

- BY MEHER VAKHARIA | Special to Gulf News

" W here are you from?” they ask.

The very generic, and seemingly simple question sticks to me like static. I pause briefly, feeling the cogs start to move in my brain.

Where am I from?

Is it the place my parents were born and raised, a place I have never once resided in?

Even my Zoroastrian roots mean my diaspora identity has always contained layers, never confined to one region.

Or is it the city I spent all my years in, where Kite Beach was a ritual instead of a place, where the salt of the sea clung to my hair like smoke in the air, where sand settled in my shoes no matter where I wandered?

From the bike rides with my best friend, flying through streets full of sweat from the torrid sun, giggling as we passed the landmarks of our childhood. From the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the rooms of my childhood home, as the posters in my bedroom remain frozen in time, reminding me of all the different versions of myself through the years.

So “Dubai”, I say as I watch the person's face contort with confusion at my hesitance.

And suddenly, my answer begins to chip at its edges.

Even as I name the place, uncertainty tugs at my chest because the place I name does not name me back. The skyline may have grown alongside me, the sea may flow through my veins, but a document fails to show itself — like many Gulf countries, people can belong in the UAE without citizenship.

A shared experience