German | Somali
My Mom was studying at the University of Konstanz in Germany. My Dad was working as a librarian in Mogadishu, Somalia. My Dad then received a scholarship to go work at a library in Germany, which happened to be the campus of my Mom’s uni, where they met.
In my previous job a new manager couldn’t help themselves, commenting on my appearance. Despite them having migrated to the UK, prejudice and stereotypes seemed to be foreign concepts to them. Ironically, they were from the country that occupied Somalia in the 19th century, Now they occupied my work space. They would also hug me and my colleagues, seemingly to make up for their behaviour. A hug is not an act of kindness if it’s forced upon you. I decided to not go back until appropriate action by the employer was taken, who reassured me that they would not condone racism. I have not been back since. This triggered so many memories that suddenly surfaced, which took a toll on my mental health. Sometimes I think this happened for a reason, as it really confronted me with some unresolved issues with my identity. Talking more openly about how this has made me feel with those close to me, I now feel more grounded.
My tears seem to be quite reserved. I think that’s due to learned behaviour that needs to be unlearned. The last time I remember crying was two years ago. I was applying for jobs and I felt ashamed that I wasn’t doing enough and that I wasn’t putting my time and energy towards causes I care about.
People love my first name. Looking back I think I was sometimes hesitant in mentioning my middle name, as Muslim names wouldn’t be celebrated in the same way where I grew up. Now I proudly say my middle name even if no one asks. It’s my Grandfather’s name and I’m grateful to carry it.
My Dad is one of my role models. The obstacles he had to overcome when starting a new life in Germany have always inspired me to live without fear and to have a positive outlook on life. My Dad is the kindest and most patient person I know.
Growing up in Germany and Switzerland I was usually perceived or racialized as Black. This felt alienating and confusing, because I didn’t have a clear understanding of the concept of race. Although I had friends who were accepting, now living in London it’s the first time that I feel like I belong. Someone at school even once referred to me as African American. We grew up in the same town that is over 6000 km away from the US. I think it shows how unthoughtful words around identity are used and how far removed from reality this can be. Views and narratives on race continue to exist even though they are outdated. A friend recommended a book to me called ‘How to argue with a racist’ by Adam Rutherford, which breaks down myths about race from a scientific point of view.
The question ‘Where are you from’, and the follow up, ‘but where are you really from’ tended to be part of most interactions I had with people. The motivation behind these questions varies and a lot of times I think it stemmed from a genuine sense of curiosity. It’s just not the most elegant way to foster a conversation about migration and origin as this is often connected with individual or intergenerational trauma. It’s a personal question.
Growing up I was not familiar with the term mixed-race. I did however think of myself as half German and half Somali, but that’s not really how I view myself anymore. We are our whole selves and not a pie chart of nationalities. I am fully German as much as I am fully Somali. The Latin term for family also means household. My parents and my two sisters and I currently live in four different countries. Not living together in one household, or even in the same country creates a disconnect where modern technology can only go so far. The times we do come together, I feel like, can be tainted by the pressure for harmony and the realisation that we are apart usually. I don’t know everyone’s background, but generally speaking our office feels inclusive.
I try to adhere to German punctuality, with varying success. I enjoy learning about different cultures, mainly through food and language. That’s how I am currently connecting to the Somali part of me that I only recently started to tap into. Just the other week I took up Somali language lessons with @Numbiarts, a Somali arts and heritage organisation in east London. My goal is to be able to speak with my Somali Grandfather and to visit Somalia one day.