Blog by Colina Wright, LUU staff

By Colina Wright.

Whilst I’ve often reflected on how I introduce myself, preferring to refer to myself as a woman who is black, I’ve never given any real thought to being second generation. I’m not sure why but it’s not like I had any power in the matter; it is what it is. I’ve often heard stories of my grandparents coming over from Jamaica and sending for my mum (aged 9) and her older brother (aged 10) once they were more settled. I’ve thought about the impact on their lives but often at a distance because I could never truly understand life in the sixties because it’s such an alien concept. Society was so different then, it’s unimaginable to me to allow children to travel on a 9-hour flight unsupervised but equally I can’t understand what it felt like to be the only black child in the school (my uncle went to an all-boys school, leaving both of them alone in “foreign terrority” in more ways than one)

Fast forward to my life and whilst there was still not an equal representation of ethnic diversity within my school, I certainly wasn’t the only black (non-white) face in the class, let alone the school. I purposely de-prioritise my ethnicity, not because it hasn’t been an issue, but because I’ve chosen not to see it as such as issue as my gender. I was bullied because I was so dark but sadly this was from other black children, who I assumed to be second / third generation. I initially struggled with this perceived lack of acceptance, often putting bleach into the bath and scrubbing my skin in the hope this would make me lighter and accepted, but fortunately had a maturity beyond my years and learnt I didn’t need their acceptance but this came at the expense of disassociating myself from my skin colour.

Being facetious but I never understand the insult of “Go back to where you came from” as Nottingham isn’t really that bad! But there’s an irony that my grandparents were invited over to help build and create by the “British Empire” after a darker period whereby my ancestors would (probably) have been forcibly taken. I wouldn’t be here had it not been about greed, power, perceived superiority, whatever you want to attribute this to so why should it ever be alright to suggest I’m here by choice. Where is home if not here? Why does my skin colour imply that I’m not welcome in the only place I’ve ever known as home?

What I find upsetting is that this diversity genuinely seems to be valued and appreciated in most spheres of life however England lose at football and we seem to blame black players rather than a team performance; we remember old-fashioned racism and revert to inexcusable behaviour.

My identify is complicated even further as I’m now a mother – of mixed race children. I’d never really considered that loving someone of a different race could negatively impact on our children. Surely society has moved on from when I grew up, we should be more diverse and tolerant, although that word has negative connotations.

This didn’t occur to me until a (white) friend of mine asked when you have the conversation with your children about race. I naively asked “what conversation?” and he spoke about teaching your children about what makes them different. I’ve struggled with this because I want to teach them what makes them the same and want to ignore the statistics that are a real feature of the lives of people of colour – under-represented in managerial roles or over-represented at lower scales, over-represented in criminal procedures or mental health diagnoses. Am I wrong in what I believe to be an act of protecting them, am I doing them a disservice and should I prepare them for life? When it comes to sexuality I challenge heteronormative standards, purposely encouraging them to believe that loving relationships with anyone should be accepted; being in a mixed race relationship is my acknowledgement that loving people from different backgrounds is also acceptable but should I address the challenges that they might face… or is life different now?

I am proud to be black and I’m proud to be British, these two things are not mutually exclusive and there are other factors that influence my identity. This is the only home I’ve ever known and I hope that as a society we continue to move towards celebrating the richness of our diversity, regardless of how it came to be.