Irish | Thai
I am mixed-race; Thai & Irish. My Mother is from Thailand, my Father from Ireland. They met in London. They combined their cultures as well as they could. I lived in Thailand when I was very young, but after two years we moved back to London. Living in such a multicultural diverse city nurtured me. I went to a Catholic school and met other girls whose parents were Irish. I went to Thai school in the summer holidays at the Buddhist Temple. We celebrated Easter with Mass, and a week later, would celebrate Songkran, Thai New Year. We went to Dublin for Christmas, and Bangkok for the summer. There was a routine to it, and there never felt an attempt to exclude anything from me or my sister’s lives. I think the biggest part I got from my Irish side was my love of Trad music and sense of storytelling. From my Thai side, it was empathy and kindness, a respect for those who have come before us. From the outside looking in, some may see stark comparisons between the two cultures but for me, there is more in common than anything else; big families, loud conversations, a strong sense of national pride. I am so lucky to feel so strongly about both. I am not half of either; I am both ethnicities 100%. I used to use the term ‘half’ but consciously don’t do that anymore. I think it’s important to present myself as both. It’s the small part I can play in changing perceptions.
I think interracial relationships are definitely more accepted now in comparison to my Grandparent’s generation. Even for my parents, things weren’t entirely straight forward. I feel so grateful that I live in London, a place where who you love has no boundaries. In my experience, different cultures enhance relationships. There is more to learn, more to embrace, more to enjoy. Every culture has its customs and behaviours – being around that diversity through a partner fosters respect. You soon realise that we the one single thing we all have in common is that we are in fact all different and it’s those differences that should be celebrated.
When I was about 15, there was a website called Formspring, where people could write anonymous messages to you. Whilst other girls in my school received flirtatious bids for their affections, I received a barrage of racist abuse. ‘You are a lady boy’, ‘When did you have your operation?’, ‘Your Mum was bought on the internet’ ‘THAI BRIDE’. I was humiliated. Instead of rationally thinking this was abuse, I incorrectly attributed these comments to my identity. I started to feel shame – shame in who I was, shame in my family, shame in how I looked. If this is how people thought of me, why should I have any pride in where I’m from? I told no one. It became a secret that I buried. When I let myself think about it, it sent me into tailspins wondering who sent me those messages. I was so worried that people would find out, I thought there was nothing worse than admitting these messages got to me. I truly believed that if I told someone, they would turn around and say, ‘but I’ve always thought that too?’
It has taken me many years to come to terms with who I am. This year, I embarked on a project of identity, starting an Instagram detailing stories from my childhood. I want to normalise mixed-race relationships and share my experiences. If I had heard stories from others who were like me, I think I would have felt less alone.
If I had the opportunity to be reborn I would return exactly as I am. Every part of my Mother and Father I cherish and love. I love that my identity, my life, and my experiences are unique. I am proud of my heritage, steeped in history from around the world. Every experience shaped me into who I am. I want to live every day championing others to be exactly who they are.