Don't Ask Me "Where is Home?"

Ask me, “Where are your harbors?”

A few weeks ago, I returned to Beijing to throw a “thousand dumpling party” with friends. While washing down my 48th dumpling with wine, a new friend approached me. She cocked her head in confusion. “So, Stephen” She started slowly, “Now that you moved to Vietnam…. Where is home?”

I grimaced into my cup, took a final sip - wishing it would last a few more seconds - and put down my cup. What should I tell her? Do I say where I grew up (Missouri)? Where most of my friends congregate (San Francisco)? Or where I now live (Saigon)?

Frankly, Beijing was another option - I had great friends, a quasi-family (thank you, Galors!), and a real sense of community. However, saying Beijing didn’t feel right. Beijing wasn’t my “home.”

After facing this question dozens of times – and never having a good answer – I've begun to wonder: "Could the problem be in the question?" As I've realized, the concept of a “home” feels misleading for me and, I believe, an emerging cohort of people.

The term “home” harkens back to a time when people lived and grew up in one place. When they traveled, other people could ask, “where is home?” To which they could smile, stare wistfully into the distance, and describe the rolling pastures, fluffy sheep, and punctual roosters near their house.

However, with a growing population of people who live as much "between" cities than "in" them, the concept of a home can become fuzzy and often downright inaccurate.

Take the example of my friend, Li Yi. She grew up in Nantong, China, went to high school in neighboring Nanjing, spent college in LA, worked there for a few years, then moved to Beijing to continue working. Now, she’s moved with her company to Nairobi. Where is “home” for Li Yi?

Or where is home for my other friend, Sam? He grew up in Boulder, Colorado went to college in Boston, did his PhD in the UK, and has spent the past two years in Taipei & Beijing. He’s moved back temporarily to Boulder, but his parents have already moved elsewhere - now they live in Toronto. Is Boulder “home?”

The truth is, we need a new concept to describe the places we live in. It shouldn’t be a uni-dimensional concept that implies a lifetime commitment to a single location. Instead, it should describe the core elements of a home – connection, community, and comfort.

I want to introduce a new concept for describing places that are important to us, our “harbors.”

I believe our lives are becoming more like ships and less like farms. You might ask a farmer, “where is your farm?” But, for a sailor, you’d recognize that their ship moves - and ask something like, “Where is your ship usually docked?” or “What ports does it usually stop in?”

A harbor is a place where your life’s ship often docks. It isn’t an exclusive agreement - you can have many harbors - but, it is a recognition of the importance of that place. I think we should ask others “Where are your harbors?” (plural) instead of “where is your home?” (singular).

What constitutes a harbor? In my mind, there are three factors.

Connection: It’s a place that you’ve spent a significant amount of time and feel connected to.

Community: It’s a place you care about people (and they care about you!)

Comfort: It’s a place you feel comfortable being in, even if you don’t live there

For example, San Francisco serves as a major harbor in my life. In total, I’ve spent 6 months living there over the past three years; it houses some of my best friends in the world (my college roommate, a friend group I hang out with, etc.); and whenever I return, which is once every few months, I feel right at home.

A few weeks ago, I went back to my SF harbor and held a small event for friends. Despite not living there full-time, I had 20 people show up to reconnect and catch up. I didn’t feel like a tourist to the city - I wasn’t. Instead, I felt like a part-time resident, like a ship returning to the port it visits often.

The concept of a harbor better matches reality for millions of people. Now, I understand harbors aren’t for everyone - nor even the majority of the population. For most people on earth, they grow up, go to school, get married, and are buried in the same place. In many ways, the term harbor comes from privilege - it describes life for people who have the means and opportunities to move around.

There are also people who just like the sense of “home.” I am not begrudging them of that word, nor of that concept. It’s beautiful to feel deep belonging to a single place.

I am not asking we get rid of the word “home,” rather that we recognize different types of connections to places. For millions of people who have lived and live in different places, we can feel trapped and even guilty by the concept of home. What does it mean that I don’t have a “home?” Does it mean I don’t belong anywhere?

Take international migrants, for instance. There are roughly 250 million international migrants who now live permanently in a place they didn't grow up. For these people, it can feel alienating to get asked where “home” is. If they say where they currently live, these migrants might get doubtful looks because they don’t look or sound of that place. If they say where they grew up, they might feel guilty because they no longer live there.

Just because you don’t have a “home” doesn’t mean you don’t belong - and our language should reflect that.

So, I urge you the next time you're interested in learning about someone's life, don't ask for a singular answer of "where is your home?" ask a broader question.

"So, where are your harbors?"

*Cathy Chen, whose harbors are Toronto, Hong Kong, & San Francisco, first proposed the name “harbor” to describe this concept. For her, Maddy Su, and our other brainstorming friends in San Francisco, I am deeply grateful.