I moved to Cairo at three very different times in my life: as an 11-year-old kid, a 20-year-old college student, and last summer, as a 40-year-old spouse and mother.
One could argue that as an Egyptian American, I should consider Egypt my “homeland.” But as a Xennial born and raised in California, Egypt felt nowhere near home in the early ’90s, when my parents told me and my brothers that we would be moving there.