British | Ghanaian
My Mom is from the UK and my Dad was from Ghana. They met at a work conference. My Mom worked in refugee housing and my Dad worked for the Commission for Racial Equality (now the Equality and Human Rights Commission) .
When my Grandparents (on my Mom’s side) found out that my Mom was pregnant with me they stopped talking to her. My Mom and Grandad were still on bad terms when I was born and he died a few weeks after that. They never got the chance to make things right with each other. His attitudes were a relic of a different time. Another time at a party someone told my Mom who was heavily pregnant that it wasn't too late to get an abortion, and thought she was being helpful by saying this.
Wolverhampton could be a pretty racist place in the 1990s/2000s so I’m sure I was uncomfortable in my skin from time to time. Not because of being mixed but just generally being non-White. So being a mixed couple in the 90s would have been tough. I think my Nan’s reaction to my Mom being in a mixed relationship with my Dad was largely influenced by my Grandads attitudes. Once I got to a certain age my Mom was honest with me about my Grandparents initial reactions. But she always tells me the story of when my Nan met me for the first time, my Mom made an excuse about wanting to use the bathroom so that my Nan had to hold me. She said that from the moment I was in her arms she loved me and there was never an issue or a comment again. It’s a shame to know how my Grandparents treated my Mom but I was always very close with my Nan and never felt any kind of judgement or racism from her. Although I'll never know exactly how she felt, she was a Daily Mail reader to the very end but I loved her a lot!
I’ve just finished making a Youtube series about my Dad and my quest to track down my Ghanaian family, called ‘Hidden Roots’. My Dad, originally from Ghana, died nearly 12 years ago. I then found out he’d been lying about his age for over a decade, was secretly married, and had a huge Ghanaian family who he had told me almost nothing about. For a man that I loved and respected and had always associated with honesty it was a lot to take in. Dad's secrets and the family I never knew had been playing on my mind for years, I’d always wanted to look into why he chose to keep so much hidden. I never found the time and I never really knew where to start with such a big project, especially as there wasn’t much information to go on. But when the lockdown started in 2020 I suddenly had a lot of time on my hands.
I’m a singer and I remember at the time there was a big question mark over whether we musician’s would ever be able to work again. Good old Rishi was out there telling us creatives to retrain as cyber security technicians and accountants. So while I was feeling a bit lost and hopeless and with a lot of time to spare I decided that now was the time to finally investigate my Dad’s life and try and find some answers and to see if I could track down my Ghanaian family. I’ve been on a massive journey since then discovering Dad’s old school friends and work colleagues, potentially discovering another sibling and ultimately tracking down my Ghanaian family. I’m actually writing this from my Aunties house in Accra while I'm out here meeting the family for the first time. I decided to record the whole thing. It’s been a deeply personal experience and it's been quite intense putting it out into the world for other people to make their own interpretations of, but it's also been incredibly rewarding. I feel closer to my Dad now and I've also made connections to my Ghanaian family and to Ghana itself.
My immediate family is very small. Just me, my Mom, my Aunt and 2 cousins now. And it's normally me moving abroad rather than them. I think my Mom would rather I didn't move about so much. But I’m now finally being introduced to my Dad’s huge Ghanaian family after tracking them down so I’m making new connections every day. It feels nice to have family all over the world. I’m just learning about my Ghanaian culture for the first time since meeting my family this year. I’m about to travel up to the northern part of Ghana to visit my Dad’s hometown. I’m taking his ashes back there to be buried with his brothers. It feels like a really important journey, a final end for my Dad and a new beginning for me. I’m taking time to learn about Ashanti culture and traditions. I love Ghanaian clothing and music and I’m starting to incorporate those influences into my own style and music. I’m discovering the culture rather than retaining it!
I’m definitely more a product of my Mom’s White British upbringing than my Dad’s Black Ghanaian side. He never really brought his culture and influences into the home and he wasn’t in touch with his family so there were no Black people in our home when I was growing up. As I’ve gotten older I’ve been drawn more towards Black culture and Black people, but I often feel like the odd one out. My skin colour gets me entry to the club but I’m always just a guest and not a member! I’m much more ok with who I am now, I'm no longer seeking approval in the same way. I like to stand out, but I definitely struggled with it when I was younger.
There probably have been times when I’ve hidden part of my identity that I can’t remember but generally I’ve always been proud to be mixed-race. I guess I sometimes might try to hide my White side around Black and Brown people though. When I was young I always heard the accusation from Black kids that I ‘acted White’, and often the backhanded compliment from White people that I spoke well (for a Brown person), or didn’t act like how they had expected, based on how I look. I’ve never wanted to hide my Blackness around White people, but I have wanted to hide my Whiteness around Black people. I’m as much Black as I am White but I identify with my Blackness and I struggle to identify with my ‘Whiteness’. I probably am seeking approval and acceptance from the Black community in a way I'm not bothered about when it comes to White people.
But I’m prouder of my mixed-race identity now than I ever have been. I’m happy eating fufu with my Aunties in Accra, but I don't want to go too long without my Marks and Spencers Dine in for Two meal deal with my Mom either.. I’ll take it all, thanks! It was a real moment for me when I first saw my mixed race identity as being something separate and defined. I'm not White or Black - I'm mixed and I love that. I think it's great however people choose to identify and I respect those choices but I love being mixed race and love feeling part of that specific community.
A lot of people have used half cast to describe me and thought that was actually polite. I know a few mixed-race people who refer to themselves as that. I had a recording session with a White producer once who had adopted mixed-race kids and taught them that half cast was the right term. I nearly beat him with the microphone! I hate the term so much. It makes us seem like we’re dogs, neither this nor that. Mixed-race is a whole group of diverse people, not half this or half that. And we’re the future too, let’s not lie! The future of the human race is a mixed race.
I’m a singer, mainly live performance stuff. I do backing singing for pop singers. Being Black/mixed is an interesting experience in the British pop world. I’ve performed at many of the UK's big festivals and events and one thing that always sticks with me is how most backing singers are Black and Brown and most pop stars are White. So in that sense my identity has probably given me the opportunity to be on stage as a backing singer that I might not have had if i were White but at the same time you know that the back of the stage is where you’re likely to remain. The UK doesn’t seem very ready or willing to embrace Black and Brown artists into the mainstream in the way the US does for example, although that’s changing in some ways now. But can anyone name me a successful dark Black pop/chart singer to come out of the UK in the past 10 years? I’ll wait..!
The last time I cried was when I got a call from the hospital near where my Mom lives. I recognised the number. I missed the call but instantly assumed the worst, that something really bad had happened to Mom. I still remember the call I got from the doctors telling me I needed to get back home to see my Dad, I knew he didn’t have long left. I remember how painful but also kind of beautiful those final few days were. There was an honesty in our connection in the last few times I saw him that we’d not really had before. I felt like I really saw him, and he really saw me. All of this flashed back to me when I saw that missed call from the hospital. I imagined going through the same thing with my Mom. It breaks my heart thinking about losing her. Turns out she was fine! She’d just been dizzy and was in overnight for observations. The hospital will call now and again I’m sure, and I’ll probably have that same reaction every time I see their number pop up on my phone!