We're all from somewhere. Our home, our heritage, it shapes us, for better or for worse, and no matter where life takes us, that tether holds; sometimes faint, sometimes like a siren, but always present.

The NFL invites players to celebrate that heritage with flags on the back of their helmets, representing countries where they were born, if other than America, or have ancestors tracing back two generations. They are a reminder that players come from all around the world, with threads of stories that circle the globe. And as the NFL continues to grow its brand in new countries, sharing the sport with the world, it's crucial to remember that with each new country ventured, the world is also sharing itself with us. It's vital we listen.

The Carolina Panthers boast 11 players who display their history with the Heritage Helmet stickers. These are their stories.

Make sure to watch the full documentary at the bottom of each article.

"Cameroon is sometimes called mini Africa because geographically they have a little bit of everything," Njongmeta says. And each tribe has something for which they're known.

Njongmeta holds up the first of two pictures, one of him and his mom, posing with big smiles for the camera.

"Me and my mom coming out of church," he explains. "I'll go to church, throw it on. This is a fire fit. I really gotta bring this one out. This is like Carolina blue. I don't know why I haven't brought this one out yet."

Then he picks up the second picture, a shot of him walking into a game while playing in college for the Wisconsin Badgers.

"This is actually the specific part of Cameroon I'm from; we're known for this pattern. My grandmother actually sewed this one. You throw this one on, you mean business. This is a very powerful picture. It was like 30 degrees outside when I was wearing this one, so I went no sleeves to strike fear into my opponent's heart," he finishes with a big laugh.

These days, aside from a trip home every few years, fashion is one of the most tangible ways for Njongmeta to stay connected to his heritage. The son of two intellectuals, the future linebacker came to America at three years old when his mother was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to study at Texas A&M.

"We didn't have a lot of money growing up," recalls Njongmeta, his tone making it clear this is not a slight or evidence of lingering hurt, but simply an objective fact. "My parents left the middle class, a really good life in Cameroon, to essentially come back and be students in America and start over.

"I think it takes a very specific mentality to leave a very comfortable life, immigrate to another country, all in an effort for better for your kids, better for yourself."

His parents starting over also meant Njongmeta was starting over, and for a while, honestly, he floundered, unsure of who he was in a country that was unsure of who he was. America is a melting pot, a relatively young, beautiful tapestry of different colors, cultures, influences, and beliefs. But the human mind needs to arrange things in boxes.

As a young kid, Njongmeta felt like he didn't fit into any box.

"So I grew up, obviously, I grew up in America, but I always felt like I had this identity conflict," he admits, softly but assuredly. "I grew up in a predominantly white area around a lot of white kids, and I always felt kind of too African for the black kids, a little too Black for the white kids, and then just stuck in that awkward middle."

It's the kind of crippling paradox that can stunt many an adolescent's growth. But Njongmeta's parents didn't move across the Atlantic for their children to stumble. So instead of listing in the wind, he became "fluid," using his ambiguity to his betterment.

"I've always felt like I come from such a unique perspective, and so it took me a while to learn that to be a strength and not see it as a weakness.

"I think the best part I've gotten out of my heritage has been the perspective on life you get when you're growing up in a country where you weren't born, or your parents aren't from. Because I think, anywhere you grow up, you kind of have this bias of, 'Oh, this is how things should be, this is how things should be everywhere.' And growing up having parents who were like, 'Yeah, this is not how things were when we grew up. Things don't always have to be like this.'

"It just gave me a very unique perspective that I'm grateful for, made me a lot more fluid in different ways with my thinking with my understanding of how people are, and honestly, it made me more accepting of people in different walks of life."

Such a mindset defines a locker room, so perhaps Njongmeta was always destined to be here, on an NFL roster boasting players from all over the globe, as the Heritage Helmet stickers show. And perhaps Njongmeta was always destined to be a touchpoint in that locker room. At each community event this holiday season, from Mike Jackson's turkey drive, Derrick Brown's own drive, Joy To the Carolinas, and every event in between, there was Maema, joyfully working to serve anyone and everyone who crossed his path.

"I think America is very materialistic," he offers, an observation built from a life lived in two different places, with parents who still travel back to Cameroon with some regularity. "And to learn from a very upfront, close and personal perspective of, it's not actually the amount of money you have that ends up making you happy or makes you somebody.

"It's your character, it's kind of these other intangible things that are materially cheap but spiritually expensive."

Njongmeta credits much of who he is to his parents, Leo and Nenge Lynda Njongmeta. Maybe it's because they grew up in a country where they had to depend on themselves more—"things were a lot more uncertain where they grew up," he says.

Or maybe it was the value they placed on education, ensuring their children would grow up in a home that knew the importance of learning about the world around them.

"I remember being young, and there's this, the Naked Brothers Band, it was this Nickelodeon show," he starts with a chuckle, knowing where the story is going. "And they had a song called 'I Don't Wanna Go To School,' and it was super catchy. I still remember it to this day. I remember playing it on the little drum set my mom had, and my mom came in, and she was like, 'Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing? We love school in this house.'"

Maybe it was because his parents knew that moving their children to a country very different from their own would require striking a balance between who their kids were and who they dreamed of being, and therefore raised them with that in mind.

"There's some things I think we take for granted. You grew up in a really rich country. It's like, oh yeah, the food will always be there. Oh, the education will always be there. Where they came from, you had to scratch and claw for things like education, scratch and claw for things like good health care."

Or maybe it's simply just who his parents are at their core.

"Having parents who, they both have PhDs but very humble, you would never know that about them," he says, pride in his voice. "There's so much just that they gave me perspective on that I wouldn't have had, made me a lot more grateful, I think, for a lot of things people might take for granted…I don't know if that's because of where they're from or who they are."

Whatever the reason, and in multiple countries, his parents were what always felt like home.

"I think any of the things I've done in my life have been kind of a credit to the mentality they gave me."

Of course, there are some tangible ways Njongmeta still honors his heritage, such as food, music, and dress. He debuted his first Cameroonian outfit with the Panthers ahead of the Rams game in Week 13. And during this season's "My Cause, My Cleats" campaign, Njongmeta advocated for the Cameroon Women Association of Chicago, of which his mother is a leader, an organization that helps provide clean drinking water back in Cameroon.

"I started a campaign which is still going on, just a selfless plug," he says with a point. "Through the month of December, too, double every contribution up to $3000 in an effort to help give life-saving water back in Cameroon."

But in some ways, it's that simple sticker on the back of his helmet, just to the right of the American flag, and above the NFL shield, that best sums up Maema Njongmeta: his heritage, his goals, and the dreams his parents had years ago.

"I think so much of, again, who I am, the way I see life, the way I carry myself is because of where I'm from," he says assuredly. "And so to wear the Cameroonian flag right next to the NFL shield, one of the biggest brands in the world, it means the world to me.

"I feel like I'm able to bring my full self to the table when I play, and I hope fans can see me, get to know more about the country I'm from, and get to know me as a player through that."