English/Scottish | St Lucian/Trinidadian
I identify as a mixed White/Black Caribbean, no religion and heterosexual. My Mother is English, from a working-class family. Her great grandparents on her Father’s side were Scottish. My Father is Black Caribbean. He was born in St Lucia to a father who was Trinidadian. When my Father was young his parents emigrated to Ghana. He was sent to England when he was about 5 years old in the late 1920’s. He then lived and grew up with a guardian in Bolton, a Black Trinidadian GP. My Father graduated as a doctor from Manchester University. He met my Mother, who was a nurse, when they were both working at a hospital in Stockport. As my Father had grown up in the UK, and the number of Black families in Bolton was very small, he considered himself to be English. And so, there was no culture clash between my parents.
My husband is Scottish, and there were no objections on either side of the family when we got married. His family perhaps had some reservations, but those subsided when they realised I was a doctor. Generally, today, in the UK I feel inter-racial relationship are more accepted, and certainly more common. In previous years it was much more common to be asked where I was from. That hardly ever happens now. For my parents, marrying in 1949, both sets of parents initially objected. My paternal Grandfather wanted my Father to marry a Black woman; somewhat ironic as he himself had married a pale skinned Guyanese woman. I don’t remember my parents saying they had particular problems in society because of their marriage.
I think being mixed-race has given me more of a ‘world’ view. We went to live in Jamaica, on the university campus in Kingston, when I was 9 and I lived there until I was 18. Being in the West Indies was an eye opener. It was the first time I had seen so many people in various shades of Black and Brown. It was also where I realised that to be intelligent, ambitious, and Black was quite normal, something that might have not been so easy if we’d stayed in the UK.
I can remember the odd occasion in primary school, before we went to Jamaica, when I was given a racial nickname. I don’t remember any other incidents in the village where we lived. Also, my Mother struggled to deal with my hair. In Jamaica I felt alien at first. My parents experienced culture shock and insisted on us being ‘English’. Which meant keeping our English accents and attitudes. I was teased at school because of my accent. I think my Father had hoped that going to live in Jamaica he would find his ‘people’. But in reality, he was a foreigner who was thoroughly anglicised. My Father was regarded by some people as a ‘coconut’, i.e. Brown outside but White within. There were a few other mixed-race couples on campus with whom we became friendly.
I feel English. Although I loved living in Jamaica I never felt at home there. The food was exciting; Jamaican patties; curry goat; rice and peas; Jamaican Christmas cake; and lots of lovely fruit. I love bright colours, whether I gained that from living there, or whether I would have anyway, I don’t know. I visited Ghana one year ago. It was very interesting, but I didn’t feel a deep connection. My DNA suggests that my slave ancestors came from what is now Benin, but the African connection feels so long ago.
I’m now 69 years old. I don’t think my attitude has changed. I’ve never felt it to be a disadvantage. I have never had any problems when I worked in the NHS based on my identity.
If I had the opportunity to be reborn I wouldn’t change anything. Except that now it would be easier to identify with and meet people who shared my identity as mixed English/Caribbean.