My colleague asked me, “Abbas, are you pure Pakistani?”

The question was a casual one. It was just before our team break fast at the office. I suspect it had something to do with the pakol* I was wearing for the occasion.

The answer should have been straightforward. But when you’ve spent close to a decade studying history, migration and ethnicity, it rarely is. Questions of identity are rarely simple once you begin pulling at their threads.

“Pure” is a curious word. It assumes a starting point untouched by movement. But history is almost always movement. Families migrate. Marriages cross boundaries. Languages mix. Even traditions evolve quietly from one generation to the next, especially in a country like Singapore.

Over the years, I have learnt to embrace the complexity of my ethnic identity. It is layered, refusing to be reduced to a single label, sometimes not even “Pakistani.”

The early Pakistanis who arrived in Singapore during the colonial period did not step into a vacuum. They entered a multicultural port city shaped by British colonial administration and Malay society. Being born and raised in Singapore, my own sense of identity lies somewhere within those overlapping spaces.

The question stayed with me far into the night.

Perhaps because it reminded me how easily we reach for clarity in matters that are, by nature, layered. Or how often identity is treated as something fixed, when in reality it is negotiated quietly over time, whether at home, in schools or even in offices before break fast.

*The pakol is a traditional hat originating worn by men across Afghanistan and Pakistan, characterized by its rolled-up edges.