Are You Frum?

I was recently introduced to a friend of a friend on the LIRR and in the course of the conversation she asked me if I was “frum?” I was not wearing my kippah thus I was label ambiguous. (I recommend reading a previous post entitled “The Yarmulke Conundrum.” - See below). It is not the first time I’ve been asked this question and I am always perplexed by it.
To be fair, I think the question is usually asked to convey a sense of affinity. We all take comfort in socializing with those we have commonality with. I have an ethnically diverse portfolio of friends and acquaintances, but I admit that my closest friends tend to be American and Israeli Jews. On a recent extended overseas trip I looked to find Anglos, Israelis and Jews to socialize with. It was not because I had something against the locals or their culture, I did not, I was looking to share the experience of being an American and a Jew in a place where there is few of either. Thus, in this context I see the search for those like “us” as perfectly normal and acceptable.
So why am I particularly confounded when asked if I am “frum?” Is the questioner not asking me to see if we share the same background? Isn’t the questioner asking me if we have much in common? Perhaps! I am a Jew by birth, I am/am not frum by choice. Therefore, if you ask me if I’m frum, you are asking me what my life choices are. I may or may not be willing to answer those questions. 
Another factor is, define frum? To some people I am extremely devout to others I am no where near that. So when the question is asked of me I certainly need context so I can answer it properly. I will concede that the term “frum” usually connotes Sabbath observance and keeping kosher – at least that’s what I think people mean when they ask the question. But even if you accept that definition for the context of the question, I still have a problem with it. Am I a Sabbath observer if I occasionally use electricity? Am I kosher if I eat tuna at a diner? What about those that observe the Sabbath and eat strictly kosher but never daven and put on tefillin? I suppose there are those that will say my nuance is extreme, they would be correct, but I don’t think that is a bad thing. If a person self labels himself as frum then I guess he is on some level. 
On the one hand it is very important for us to find a comfortable, spiritual home but at the same time include those that don’t practice or agree with the way we do. If you want to seek affinity with me on my level of observance meet up with me in Shul. If you don’t go to mine or I don’t go to yours we likely have a different opinion on a lot of things. Yes I know that we will have a lot in common too but there are nuances there. 
We have backed ourselves into a corner of labels. We use terms like “frum,” “The Torah World,” “dati leumi,” “balabatish,” “kippah serugah,” and “Yeshivish” among others to classify ourselves. We separate those that cover their hair with those that don’t, those who wear a black hat and those that don’t. We are obsessed how others observe and how they present publically. 
We need to find our affinity with each other based on the legacy handed down by our forefathers. But which legacy? A legacy that puts distance between us even in the most subtle ways, or one that brings us closer together? “Are you frum?” is a subtle message that those that aren’t, don’t have much in common with me. It is no different than when someone I meet for the first time asks me if I am a Jew. While I am proud to be one, I find the question offensive. If it’s something I want you to know I’ll tell you, that’s why all those official forms that ask for your ethnicity also give you the option not to furnish that information. Let’s start unifying as Jews and stop separating by levels of observance.