Indian/Native American | Indian/East African (Unknown)

Photo credit: provided by subject

My Mum who is North Indian and Native American was forced to marry my Dad (South Indian & East African) when she was 17. My Dad who was 20 at the time was living in London and she had to move from India to join him. He was given a book of photos to choose a wife and he picked her. I grew up believing their marriage was called an arranged marriage but when I told my Indian friends, they would say arranged marriages are nothing like this. That’s how I learned it was a forced marriage.

My Dad was always ashamed of his Brownness. He was born in Singapore but moved to the UK when he was two. He hated anything to do with India and Africa. He wanted to be White. Before my Mum, he had a string of White girlfriends and had affairs with White women after he was married. He didn’t want an Indian wife. He was abusive to my Mum when she found out about the other women & questioned him. I thought it was normal to hear my Dad beating up my Mum after he had been drinking all night. Looking back, I can see how unhappy he was with his life. He would sit staring at the television and not speak a word. If I asked questions about anything such as schoolwork or normal childhood curiosities, I’d be met with ‘I don’t know.’

My Mum was very much in touch with her Indian culture. But because my Dad didn’t want anything to do with anything Indian, she felt she had to hide the things she liked. She would watch Bollywood films when he was at work and listen to Indian radio stations. I only found out in later life that she has Native American blood. I don’t think she even knows she does. I feel such sadness thinking about how she had to leave her country and family behind to move to a whole new country. She couldn’t speak the language and didn’t know a single person. She had only seen a picture of my Dad before she had to marry him.

Growing up, I thought my childhood & family life was normal. I know now that it wasn’t. I grew up in a rough part of a nice town. I experienced racism a lot. I’d get called racial slurs by kids at school in the 90s. This racism went on for years. The last racist encounters I had were when I moved to London 10 years ago. There were a few.

Because I have experienced racism my whole life, I always think people will be racist towards me and just see me as a Brown person and not a person, if that makes sense. Like shopkeepers and random people in the street. Whenever I move to a new house, I get so anxious because I will think things like ‘what if the neighbours are racist?’. This troubled me for a long time and I eventually had psychological therapy to help with these issues.

I grew up not wanting to be Brown. Because of my Dad and because of racism. I would wish I was White so people would leave me alone. I would only choose White boyfriends and girlfriends. My Dad made me feel like it was wrong to be attracted to people of colour. Once a guy (who ended up stalking me for 4 years) told me that boys only showed an interest in me because they wanted to know what it would be like to sleep with a Brown girl so they could ‘tick it off the list’. He said, ‘do you really think they would be interested in you for your personality & mind?’.

As an adult, I wish I had something to connect to culture wise. I took an ancestry DNA test thinking it might help me feel connected to my Brownness. Of course, it didn’t. I still feel lost. For years, people would ask ‘What are you?’ and I would just say ‘I’m mixed’ because I didn’t know what to say. Since I took the DNA test, I had someone ask me what I am and I said, ‘I’m Indian, East African and Native American’. I thought it would feel good to say it out loud but it just felt wrong. I can’t even explain why it felt wrong. Maybe because I can’t connect to these cultures in any way. Because I grew up in a culture-less house. A house where I didn’t know what ethnicity my Dad even was because he had no connection to it and refused to be associated with it.

I haven’t spoken to my parents in 8 years. I had to break free so I could try to live a normal life. Sometimes I find myself trying to research my family history so I can feel some sort of connection but I can’t find anything at all on the internet. I’m desperate to know about my ancestors and their lives. There has to be more to my story.

I’m not even sure of the reason I’m writing this and what I’m looking to gain. Maybe a bit of relief to finally speak out. I guess I’m just desperate to tell my story. I really admire Mixedracefaces and I read the stories feeling a little bit of connection. Sometimes I feel sad when reading as I wish I had the connection to culture that some do.

I can’t talk to my friends about this stuff. They don’t understand. I have a lot of White friends who pretty much shy away when I talk about ethnicity & culture. They don’t know what to say so they remain silent. I don’t know anyone who had an upbringing like mine. I just really wanted to write down my story and send it to someone who might be able to understand some of it. Maybe not the upbringing parts but the identity parts.

I’ve never told my full story before. I’m nervous to press send. If you do read this, thank you so much for taking the time to read.

Releasing these thoughts is what I’ve needed to do for many years.