I found a method for finding who you are, no DNA test involved. Think those lame official questionnaires with race and ethnicity questions, shoehorned answers that don't fit.
You walk into an ethnic Deli, grab a few items, you stay mum, not a word, approach the counter with confidence, pull the wallet as if ready to pay, not a word, and wait until they address you. If they speak to you in their language, that is your identity, if they speak to you in English you try the next Deli.
Really simple, the mirror lies. We are not who we think we are, we are not who we say we are, and in spite of the tired Hollywood line we may not be anything we want to be.
We are what others think we are. If to the locals I am one of them, then I am. If am not, there is no use in pretending.
We are telling Gabe about all the good eateries we are lining up for him the moment his ordeal is over, anything is better than hospital food, specially some good Armenian, Peruvian, French, Italian, Argentinean, Jordanian, and Russian places around here...
I found who I am, and the picture has the answer.