British/Irish | Jamaican
I identify as Jamaican-Nigerian British, agnostic & bisexual. My Dad is from Jamaica and my Mum is of British and Irish origin. They both lived in Birmingham and met after my Mum’s first divorce. Truthfully, I didn’t recognise I was mixed-race. I was told when I was 8, after my teacher encouraged my Mum to have the conversation with me. I was starting to ask questions and show signs of confusion. I remember reading Tracey Beaker at the time and starting to question whether I was adopted. My Mum, sisters, and (Step) Dad were all White, so I assumed that I was the same, just that there was something horrible and inadequate about me.
I grew up in Almondsbury, a quaint but wealthy village in Bristol. Certainly as I was growing up, it was very White, so as to speak, and not multicultural at all. I don’t feel that I ever got a sense of having a dual cultural heritage as my internal family sources and wider communal sources never really fulfilled that.
I’ve always really struggled with my identity. Until 8 I thought I was White, and so confusion from that was imminent. At first, my Dad, being Jamaican, and being Black felt shameful. It felt dirty in some secretive way, which is natural, I think, when you consider how long it was kept a secret from me and the way in which it was presented to me. At that age too I was always bullied for my natural hair, which I couldn’t tame & nobody else around me could help me to tame. I can even remember the other children refusing to play with me because of my hair texture, skin tone, and lip size in nursery in Birmingham. As I got to secondary school age, I got box braids after seeing them on TV, and would be called names like ‘medusa’ and have older students feel my hair as I walked through the corridors. I understood I was mixed-race at that point, but my Blackness still felt shameful. Not because of Blackness itself, but because to me, at that time, my Blackness tied me to a man who didn’t want me or care for me; it felt like a burden.
At one time, my friends were all White. The beauty standards I looked up to were White, and the boys I was attracted to were White, as that’s all I’d really known. That’s not the case at all now though; I see the beauty in Blackness, in race, and in culture.
My identity definitely had a big impact on my hair, and it’s something I take a lot of time on. My hair journey has been a massive part of self-love for me and I’m at a point whereby I adore my hair. I feel incredibly blessed for it. I love its natural colour and texture; I wouldn’t change it for the world as, whether it’s wild and natural, or sleeked back to perfection, it’s part of who I am and it makes me feel powerful.
My most positive mixed-race experiences have certainly come this last year. I’ve taken time to educate myself on the cultures which were not taught to me, as I recognise we are all in control of our own stories. I know a much more diverse range of people now, and I got a DNA test for my birthday and found out I’m Nigerian. I definitely feel even now that I find it easier to relate to the Nigerian side of my heritage than the Jamaican side, as it doesn’t remind me of my Dad. I used to feel incredibly invalid as a mixed-race person, but I feel that fading over time.
I think nowadays there’s certainly an ideal time to be mixed-race. There’s an image of having caramel skin, loose dark waves, and being a slim thick ‘bad b’. I definitely do feel like those are the trends I pay more attention to know that I’m fully aware of my mixed heritage. I also listen to a lot of Black artists in rap and in R&B, as doing so feels natural to me now.
If I had the opportunity to be reborn I would return as myself, I love myself with all of my heart.