French/Senegalese | British/Ghanaian

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I would primarily identify as a son of God. I’ve held this identity in varying shapes and forms since my childhood and regularly attend KXC (Kings Cross Church). Through my relationship with Jesus, I’ve explored my spirituality, explored my relationships and established the foundations of my character and altruism.

Racially, I’m ‘Afropean’. While significant in my identity, the shape of its impact has probably been the most fluctuant of my identity traits over time. Day to day, my personality carries a middle-class Britishness that I’ve come to accept after years of wrestling.

My maternal Grandmother and Grandfather are French & Senegalese, respectively. My paternal Grandparents are English and Ghanaian.

Mum was born and raised in Dakar, Senegal, one of three, a daughter to a radiographer and accountant. Dad was born in Manchester, son of a tribal king in Saltpond, Ghana. He attended a boarding school in Eastbourne while spending his school holidays in Accra, Ghana. He is of the Fante people of Akan. Both of my parents pursued further education in London and met through their overlapping friendship circles in their twenties.

My parents divorced when I was very young, so their cultural imprints often came separately. I’m not sure how much intentionality either of them made towards combining their different cultural identities. As children, growing up in Senegal, my Mother and her two siblings were often referred to as ‘Toubab’, the name for a person of Caucasian descent. My Grandfather didn’t help them to learn Wolof, the local Senegalese language. Today, she carries a French accent but is mostly influenced by her faith and her multicultural friends in the UK. I don’t think she wanted to impress much of a cultural identity on me, beyond a faith in Jesus.

Through my lens, my Father largely identifies as Ghanaian, perhaps due to discrimination in the UK during his formative years and the rejection he received from his peers that continued into his professional pursuits. Dad attempted to establish a ‘Ghanaian first’ identity in me, which resulted in a placement as close second, to my British identity, but I still feel alien, considering I’ve spent just under two years there, across my lifetime. My parents had intentions for me to study in Ghana, until they separated, when I was under three.

My parents largely reflected singular cultures; Mum was initially prominent with her French culture, with few signs of her Senegalese roots on display. Dad identifies with his Ghanaian identity primarily but he has softened over time. There was plenty of discussion around Ghana being a land of opportunity. While he had intentions of moving back, he’s gradually settled into his UK lifestyle.

Today, interracial relationships are more welcomed, likely accelerated by online dating. Many of my close friends are in interracial relationships. My friendship circle looks diverse, with multiple Black friends that wouldn’t subscribe to a stereotypical Black-British persona, and White friends that have embraced non-White cultures, in many cases, without necessarily subscribing to a woke mindset.

My French Grandmother was ostracised, professionally and personally, when her relationship with my Senegalese Grandfather became public. They got married in Dakar, where Micheline continued her work as an expatriate. My British Grandmother didn’t marry my Ghanaian Grandfather. My Grandmother managed a fish & chip shop Alfred owned, while he also oversaw his other international businesses and Ghanaian political affairs. Whilst my Grandfathers had a strong West African identity, I think that today interracial relationships will be the norm, particularly as more ethnic minorities climb the economic and social ladders, to a point that racial identity in cities becomes pale in the significance of other factors.

As others drew their perceptions of who I have been through the cultural lines they drew, only certain people would have been open to the idea. I definitely had the perception many women were uninterested in a relationship with me, but had more of an interest in me as an exotic individual. I think this subconsciously rubbed off on me, with my own interest growing toward individuals with other mixes to my own. As a consequence, the majority of my relationships have been with women of other cultures. The common ground often being found in our Christian faith.

When I met Charlotte, my impression was that she was wholly identified as Black, by her actions and cultural influences and identified as mixed-race by title alone. With me coming from the opposite end of the mixed-race spectrum, we found a level of harmony in teaching each other from our differing experiences of being mixed-race in Britain. I have been immersed in West African food and music, while she has learned from my European cultural embraces.

In a phrase, I’ve felt like a ‘cultural chameleon’. I’ve been offered the liberty to speak freely into politics and have felt a broad acceptance in the UK, despite smaller scale rejections. During a three-week experience of my time in Brazil, I was frequently mistaken for a native, which, upon discovery of my foreign status, was still met with an openness and pleasant inquiry. I have had similar experiences with other Mediterranean communities and in the UK.

I think there has been an expectation that I have a level of expertise in all of my various cultures, and I have become an ambassador, which puts me in a difficult position, considering my limited long-term experiences outside of the UK and the exposure levels my parents provided me with.

To deny my culture means to pretend that a part of me doesn’t exist but to present my truth feels like a shallow representation of my Ghanaian and Senegalese roots.

As mentioned, I’ve grown up with internal conflict of wanting to be Black and White in different seasons but rarely together. I would be referred to as Coconut and Oreo, by Black and White people alike. Recently, I was even referred to as white by other mixed-race members of my family.

In more trivial challenges, I’ve often felt like a doll when I’ve grown out my hair, with strangers finding it acceptable to touch my hair, even after denying the requests that only half of them made.

I have a growing love for Ghanaian food that Charlotte cooks for us at home. There is a Senegalese restaurant that appears monthly across London by the name ‘Little Baobab’. I am in more regular contact with the family I have that are still living in Ghana. I’ve heard stories of my obsession with FUFU with groundnut soup as a young child, which I’ve revisited in my adult years.

I have visited France many times and have many cousins there. I haven’t returned to Ghana since I was eleven years old but I'm hoping to visit again, as part of a joint trip to Nigeria next year. I’m yet to set foot in Senegal but I’d like to have a stronger grasp on the French language (a work in progress) before doing so.

As a child, I recall arriving home upset, desperately wishing I was Black, and years later, a similar situation, wishing I was White. Both times, Mum cheered me up and told me to embrace my mixed-race heritage. The first time, I wasn’t able to register it, the second time, I began my journey of acceptance, which I am now able to celebrate.

I think I subconsciously viewed being mixed-race as a dilution of existing cultures. Now, I view it as the emergence of a new culture. I love the idea of the combination of cultures, allowing for the establishment of something new. Zoe Adjonyoh does a great job of combining her Ghanaian heritage with her Irish through her recipes and food outlets (Zoe’s Ghana Kitchen pop ups).

I was open about my dislike of tradition, in religion and race, as my acceptance of my heritage grew. Today, I can respect culture in its traditional shape but love fresh expressions and fusions. I can often be found enjoying traditional African music with a house beat. Each generation redefines what their culture means to them, drawing lines around what is regressive and what is empowering.

I don’t consider my workplace (broadly speaking) to be exclusive, but I’m the only individual in my department with any Afro-Caribbean descent, but this is often the case in many engineering workplaces.

Many efforts are made to be accommodating to as many people as possible. I do think some directors can sometimes be old-fashioned in their viewpoints, but I still value their ability to speak freely and my ability to paint a clear picture of the organisation and their thoughts.

If I had the opportunity to be reborn, I’m not sure I would change anything, other than to be more embracing of my non-British cultures from a younger age. I feel I’ve unintentionally distanced my French-speaking family and I have a very small relationship with my Ghanaian and Senegalese family that I think could have enriched my childhood had I embraced them sooner.

Perhaps the strongest change in my return would be my early outlook on how to deal with racism at a societal level. My Dad had ‘the racism talk’ with me that definitely rubbed off. While I don’t doubt it had a profound impact on his life, I no longer prescribe to the UK being racist today. I don’t think there's anything to be gained by viewing the world through that lens either. We owe it to ourselves and the future generations to view and act in the world according to the way we want it to be. That’s how I perceive the greatest history makers before us acted and would encourage others to do the same