A reflection on identity, culture, and belonging

I had a moment recently in Hong Kong that stayed with me longer than I expected. I was walking through a busy local market, picking up souvenirs for my daughters before catching my flight home. It was one of those places full of life—tight walkways, vibrant colors, vendors calling out, the kind of energy that makes you feel like you’re part of something bigger, even if you’re just passing through.

A local Chinese man approached me and asked a simple question: “Where are you from?” Without thinking, I answered, “Canada.” It came out naturally, almost instinctively. He smiled and followed up with another question: “What part of Canada do you live in?” And that’s when I paused. Because the truth is, I don’t live in Canada anymore. I live in the United States. So I corrected myself, but that brief moment stuck with me far more than I expected.

It made me realize something I hadn’t fully processed before. Even after years of living in the U.S., building businesses, raising my family, and creating a life here, my default identity is still Canadian. But then I started thinking deeper about it, and it became even more layered. Growing up in Canada, when people asked me where I was from, I didn’t say Canadian—I said Greek. That’s what I felt. That’s how I was raised. My home, my values, my traditions, everything was rooted in Greece.

Then when I go to Greece, I don’t say I’m Greek. I say I’m Canadian.

And now, living in America, where I spend most of my time, where I’m building the next chapter of my life, I find myself navigating all three identities at once. It’s a strange dynamic at first glance, but the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s not confusion—it’s depth.

Each place has shaped me in a different way. Greece gave me my culture, my pride, my sense of family, and the foundation of who I am. Canada gave me structure, discipline, and the environment I grew up in. America has given me scale, opportunity, and the ability to push boundaries in business and life. None of these identities cancel each other out. They build on each other.

That moment in Hong Kong reminded me that identity isn’t always a clean, simple answer. It’s not always one place, one label, or one definition. Sometimes it’s layered, evolving, and shaped by experiences across different parts of the world. And in today’s global environment, that’s becoming more and more common.

More importantly, it’s something I want my daughters to understand as they grow up. I don’t want them to feel like they need to choose one identity over another. I want them to embrace all of it. To understand that having roots in multiple cultures is not something that complicates who you are—it strengthens it. It gives you perspective. It gives you adaptability. It gives you the ability to connect with people in a way that’s deeper and more meaningful.

Looking back, it’s interesting how a simple question from a stranger in a market halfway around the world can trigger that kind of reflection. “Where are you from?” seems like such an easy question, but for many of us, the answer is anything but simple.

Because the real answer isn’t just a location. It’s a story.

And for me, that story spans Greece, Canada, and the United States. It’s shaped by family, by upbringing, by opportunity, and by the journey itself. And the more I embrace that, the more I realize how fortunate I am to carry all of it with me.

“Looking back, it’s interesting how a simple question from a stranger in a market halfway around the world can trigger that kind of reflection. “Where are you from?””

— GEORGE STROUMBOULIS