Antiguan/English | English
Mostly, I've been in equal measures horrified and awe-inspired by the events of the last year. Personally, it has really exacerbated my feeling of racial ambiguity. Often as a mixed person, particularly as a White-passing mixed person, I want to get involved but am desperate not to over-step any boundaries. On social media I've felt an urge to use my privilege to amplify Black voices, rather than add my two cents. However, in person, when my family went to a local BLM protest we were one of the only Black/mixed families present. It's not a feeling of being torn between two parts of my heritage; it's rather supporting a movement which is so central to me, without centering myself.
My Mum is biracial, her Mother was born and raised in Lancashire but met and married a man from Antigua, my Grandfather. Together they had three children but swiftly relocated to the Solomon islands; a group of tiny islands in the South Pacific. My Dad was born and raised in Leicestershire. They met at a dinner party, introduced by mutual friends. This dinner party also introduced another married couple to each other, so one event produced two marriages and four children!
Interestingly, my parents' inter-racial relationship is not one of culture clash. As my Mum was raised in the Solomons, then part of the British Empire, she was raised to be more English than the English. My Granny, who never blinked when her son brought home a Black girl, always tells this story which illustrates it nicely: the first time they met they all went to church together. And, as my Granny says in vaguely reverential tones, my Mum knew all the words to the hymns. She was swiftly accepted whole-heartedly. A moment of culture combination I can think of is our Sunday roasts. We always have roast chicken, which was the only thing Mum could get in the Solomons for Sundays, and we always have roast potatoes and coconut rice.
During my teens I endured the now almost cliché '...but where are you... from..' constantly from potential partners. It has been so refreshing to be with a person who is interested in where I originate from, wants to hear all my stories, but has no interest in nailing down my racial ambiguity before considering a relationship.
For me, it's less that I hide my identity and far more that people don't see it. I identify very strongly as mixed-race but am completely aware that to most (White) people I'm White passing. I acknowledge that this gives me so much White privilege which I benefit from every day. It also has placed me in some interesting scenarios. I've seen, mostly at university, how groups of White people behave when they believe they're in all White groups. The level of confidence this gives them to proudly sing certain words in my face, words I've never used because I don't for a second think I'm entitled to it, has been astonishing. I know that they would never behave the same if a ‘real’ Black person was present.
I think the challenges of interracial relationships remain but are far more internal than external. For my Grandparents, my Grandmother's parents flatly exiled her for being in a relationship with a Black man. They only came around to the idea, grudgingly, after they had children and it was clear he was there to stay. Indeed, for their children, bullying was rife. My Mum moved from North London to Milton Keynes then to the Solomons chiefly because she was mercilessly taunted whenever she went to school, an island in the middle of the ocean with a completely different racial order was their only refuge in the 70s.
For my parents life was much easier, their parents and in-laws were nothing but accepting. Quite frankly my Dad's parents couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten. But, I do believe challenges remain within an inter-racial relationship. Even within my parents' relationship, broad cultural hegemony differences arise. My Dad's puzzled face as Mum, my brother and I patiently explained that we didn't use shampoo on our hair, is testament to this. As is the fight that ensued when he presumed our hair was dirty.
In mine and my family's experience, and I can only speak to that, the external challenges in interracial relationships now versus my Grandparents have abated. However, I do have internal challenges remaining, particularly in the raising of mixed-race children as a White parent.
It would be remiss not to acknowledge that I've received many positives surrounding my identity. I have an interesting family story to tell and I don't face the brunt of racial prejudices. Most of my external challenges rest in uncomfortable social situations and small frustrations like when people don't recognise me as my Mother's daughter despite the fact we look exactly alike.
Most of the challenges I've faced have all been internal, so whining about them feels slightly self-serving. However, I can acknowledge that I do feel very cut off from my Caribbean heritage. Without airing dirty laundry, this is chiefly due to the circumstances of my Grandparents' (unhappy) marriage. My Mother didn't inherit much of her Dad's Black culture; most of it was concentrated in the songs and stories she used to tell me at bedtime. These were wonderful but for practical things like managing my hair, neither she, nor my Grandmother had ever really got to grips with it. As a result, I have been doing much of the grappling with the challenges of being mixed-race for both myself and my Mum. In a slightly backwards way, it was me who did the research and worked out that we were using entirely the wrong washing regime and products. Although this is work I'm so happy to do, I can't help but regret that more of my Antiguan heritage hasn't made its way down to me.
My family visited Antigua a few years ago. I absolutely loved it there. It's a tiny island with 365 beaches, one for every day of the year, all of which are stunning. It's incredibly cliché but I felt so at home there. Even in the taxi from the airport, the driver asked us why we were there and my Mum replied that her Father was from the island. She took a chance, 'Small island, you might have known him, Baden Prince?' the driver responded 'Hm.. Not Baden but Rodney Prince? He plays at Shirley Heights on a Thursday!' The feeling of being known, even in a superficially strange place was such a welcome introduction. We visited my Great-Uncle and Aunt and heard new family stories. It's always been a hope of mine to spend an extended period in time in Antigua. I'm thinking of taking a year out after uni so it might be sooner rather than later!
I have so much more of a positive outlook on being mixed than when I was a child. My favourite book of all time is 'The Bluest Eye' by Toni Morrison. Obviously, my life experience is not similar to those children, but I distinctly remember, as Pecola does in that novel, wishing for straight hair as a child. Looking back, I was such a cute kid. I had this cloud of brown curly hair which I dearly wish I could recreate. It hurts my heart thinking of that little kid desperately wishing it away.
Now, I love my hair. I hate when I go to the hairdresser and my hair is straight for a few days (and no please don't tell me you prefer it like that). I've really come into my own and though challenges still percolate I've lost a lot of my self-hating impulses which came from a childhood of never seeing anyone who looked like me.