I have always found this comment interesting. As you can see, my mother, who is African-American, and I look very much alike. But for most of my adult life, when ever someone who was Eritrean or Ethiopian would see me on the street or in some other public place they would aways stare at me for about 5 min and then ask me what my name was. And that would, of course, turn the light bulb on in their minds, “Ah yes you look habesha, it’s in the blood!” Airports in DC and Atlanta are always fun because they are practically run by habesha so when they see my ID they start speaking Tigrinya to me. That’s always a weird moment for me. Their reaction always is, ” What? You don’t speak? Why not?”, as if I have insulted them, like it is logically impossible for me not to speak. And that reaction really does happen all the time. In most instances I don’t have time to tell them the whole story, so I just say, “It’s complicated.” But the feeling is always the same, like I am some lost child in the mall and everyone is asking, “Where are your parents?”. And it won’t stop happening until I learn the language, it’s in the blood I guess.