In my case, the answer to the question ‘Where are you really from?’ is quite complicated. I wasn’t born in this country. If my naval officer father hadn’t made a special effort to register me as British before he retired, I might well be stateless. Some of my forebears weren’t born here either. I am rather wary of the sort of people who are interested in the subject, and I’m not about to give you all the details.
Nor would I take kindly to a complete stranger reaching out a hand to move my hair or clothing, especially so as to read my name-badge. Why not simply ask her name? Touching people without their permission is just rude. Anyway, I hate name-badges and resist attempts to make me wear them. They’re a step along the road to the society where we all wear barcodes stapled to our ears, like cattle.
