British | Irish/Indo-Guyanese
My Mother is half Indo-Guyanese and Irish, and my Father is British, although with Norwegian heritage we recently found out! My Father is an engineer and travels the world working on different projects. He was in Guyana (‘the land of many waters’) working and attended the local running club (the hash). A local girl who had just finished her studies in London also attended the hash; my Mother! She said she spotted the tall, White man and asked him for a lighter (even though she actually had one herself). It sounded like a whirlwind romance and they married fast.
I’d say my parents combined their cultures with relative ease, at least in terms of bringing me and my brother up in a very balanced way. We grew up living in many different countries due to my Dad’s job. But the one constant was that we would visit and spend weeks with our Grandparents in both England and Guyana. In this way, I always felt that I was from both places. Although I also recognised early on on that I (and my brother) looked quite different from most of our Guyanese family. But we actually spent perhaps the most amount of time actually in Guyana, I even lived there for 6 months a few years ago.
To be honest, my role models are probably my parents! My Father worked his way up to the top of his field. He’s passionate and a real talent. My Mum raised us, while working jobs such as science teacher and exercise instructor. She is full of passion; passion for her family, food, movement, music: generally life. I love them alot.
I think it took me a long time to understand how I should present myself. I have a very ‘foreign’ name; Laxmi is an Indian Goddess and lots of people don’t know that and so I’m constantly asked ‘what does your name mean’, and especially, ‘why do you have that name?’. One person asked me if ‘my parents were hippies’, because, to them, I looked too White to have that name. That sentiment has alway followed me: a slight embarrassment or confusion as to ‘what I am’. Once I’ve explained why I have an Indian name, people also want to know why there are Indian people in the Caribbean. So many people don’t know about indentured labour. I think it's crazy that growing up in England, it's hardly taught. Guyana was a British colony and no one knows. We even speak English there! In the Netherlands, where I live now, the country has a very different relationship to its former colonies, like Suriname. Although a lot more can be done to really reflect on its history there. Moving to the Netherlands from the UK eight years ago allowed me to really tackle that, as it made me a default ‘foreigner’. I no longer feel different in my home country (like I did in the UK), because here I’m immediately different. This allowed me to also reclaim my identity: I’m mixed White and Indo-Caribbean, but I grew up mainly in England. That’s just the truth of it.
I remember feeling I wasn't sure where I belonged. I felt different in the UK, but I looked different in Guyana. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to please people by either openly acknowledging my mixedness right away, or hiding it. It can be frustrating when you decide to mention it right away in response to ‘why do you have that name’, and you get a frown and the response ‘oh, you look so White though?’. I feel like I need to prove my mixedness. That’s tiring. And also, how rude are people sometimes?! And on the other hand, sometimes people ask me right out: ‘where are your parents from?’. So, it’s like walking this fine line. But at the end of the day, I need to be less of a people pleaser and just by myself. Reclaiming my identity and being confident - no matter how the other person responds - definitely came with age. Thank god!
In some groups, mainly with other mixed people, I can feel so free. Free to identify with all parts of myself, be proud of what I know about Guyana and Guyanese food and Caribbean culture and music. I feel like there is some kind of unspoken bond: something like, ‘I see you’.
My brother and I are so lucky that we spent a lot of time in Guyana. We both also lived there separately as adults. It definitely bonded us to the land in a special way. A way that can even be painful at times as you lose loved family members who live there, or struggle to go back to visit and you feel that hole in your heart. I get literal cravings to go back and smell the Georgetown air, or feel the roughness of the grass that they have there on my bare feet. It can be overwhelming.
The last time I cried was about work, most probably. I think our generation is having a reckoning moment with the working world. The pandemic really allowed us to see that our work-life balance is off. There are so many more important things to devote your time to. Love, family, passion. And luckily for me, my work can be my passion. I’m a writer and I love it. But it's not the only thing I have and I refuse to feel forced into spending my life behind a computer screen. No one on their deathbed ever wished that they had worked more.