People often tell me I talk about home too much. But I do not think I talk about it enough, and maybe that is why I am often called an overly cultural person. Someone who holds on to their culture “a bit too much,” who constantly brings up where she comes from. Someone who refuses to speak or dress differently to blend in. Many of us who live away from our home countries understand this feeling, the instinct to hold on tightly to where we come from. Even when we grow up elsewhere, our roots find a way to show through, and sometimes we might even overdo it.

Where we grow up shapes how we understand identity and belonging. Born and raised in the UAE, I was surrounded by a rich cultural mix. I have tasted home-cooked meals from Tunisia, Syria, India, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, and more, and each time it felt as though the person cooking was offering me a taste of where they came from, a glimpse of their roots. I saw it too when walking into someone’s house and noticing the small details that represented their version of home, the place that waits quietly for their return. My family is no different; our house is filled with every Palestinian accent imaginable, and my siblings and I were raised to love and celebrate our heritage. Hospitality was a rule, not a choice, and my mom would always prepare traditional dishes when my friends came over, determined to share a piece of who we were. Only later did I realize this was her way of helping people understand us and our culture. It always felt like an unspoken rule to celebrate where we come from passionately and instinctively. Some may call it excessive; I call it beautiful because it makes us warmer, more grounded, and more human.

As I grew older, I began to realize that culture is not only something we inherit but also something we protect. Living abroad taught me that identity is fragile when separated from its roots. When you move away from the soil where your story began, parts of you naturally adapt to new people, food, and rhythms of life. It helps you grow, but when you choose this deep cultural attachment, you are choosing to keep a part of yourself intact. You are choosing to honor your origins because your identity feels sacred and worth preserving. That choice is what gives culture its rare gift when we live away from home, the sense of emotional continuity. It becomes the thread that ties the life we are living now to the one our families left behind. The familiar songs, foods, and gestures we carry create stability in an ever-changing world, reminding us that even as our surroundings evolve, there are pieces of us that remain constant. Sometimes I think about the homes we never got to see, the ones our parents describe through stories, and I realize that culture is the only way we keep them alive. Culture safeguards identity from erasure and keeps us anchored to where we began, and that feeling deepens when you grow up far from your ancestral home because culture becomes the home you build within yourself.

Culture allows us to connect with others. People confident in their roots often interact more deeply with others because they understand what it means to belong. In the UAE’s diversity, appreciating and embracing other people’s traditions is an unspoken necessity for harmony. When you express your culture through food, music, language, or clothing, you are not excluding others; you are inviting them in. You are representing your roots and your people and welcoming others to experience them. The impression you leave is lasting. It teaches, inspires empathy, and builds respect. When others understand your culture, they feel as if they have experienced your home through you. Sharing culture through small acts holds love, effort, and history, reminding us how deeply our roots travel and how much of them we carry wherever we go. Culture does not create distance; it creates compassion.

Not everyone sees cultural identity the way I do. A common critique is that holding on too tightly to culture keeps us from adapting, that it makes us rigid or unwilling to change. I appreciate this perspective, but it misunderstands what culture really is. To me, culture is not a wall that separates people; it is the foundation that supports us all. You can embrace a new country, language, or lifestyle while still carrying your traditions with pride. You do not have to replace who you are. You can grow and evolve, but that growth is rooted in remembering where you began. The people who are most secure in who they are are often the ones most open to others. When you know where you come from, you do not fear difference, you welcome it. I have learned that the stronger your sense of self, the easier it is to make space for others’ differences. Taking pride in my culture means I have a sense of self strong enough to showcase my traditions while also appreciating others’.

Being overly cultural is not about refusing to move forward. It is about refusing to forget. It is how we carry home with us, no matter where we go. In a diverse world where people merely coexist more than ever, some of us cling to our roots more tightly than others, but that is not a flaw; it is human. It is how we make sense of who we are amid constant change. Belonging loudly is not only a personal act; it is a way of keeping a collective memory alive. So yes, I am proudly overly cultural, because in a world that forgets too quickly, remembering and loving loudly and without apology is an act of belonging.