Nigerian | English
My parents met in the UK where they were both studying at the same university. Luckily for them, both of their families are very open minded people. My Dad’s parents grew up in Rwanda and Kenya throughout their childhood so were very accustomed to and welcomed African culture, so my Mum was very much accepted in that respect. My Mum’s side of the family were very welcoming towards my Dad as well, their interracial relationship was never an issue. I guess growing up with families that didn’t ‘other’ each other due to racial differences instilled the idea that we are all the same and can live harmoniously regardless of cultural and racial differences.
I would say I feel closer to my Nigerian culture for sure, but I think it’s mainly because that’s where I was raised. There’s also a stronger connection to my extended Nigerian family than my English family. On my English side I barely know any of my Dad’s cousins or Grandparents siblings. But on my Nigerian side I have so many more connections and relationships with many extended family members, even as far as ‘third cousins’. I guess that’s just a cultural thing really. It’s also harder in a way to feel as English being half Black, because English identity is heavily based on Whiteness, which makes it difficult for me to feel as English as I do Nigerian.
I’ve been called ‘Half-caste’ all my life in Nigeria. It’s still commonly used to describe someone who is bi-racial or mixed-race. It was never an issue growing up, until I learned the significance of the word later on in life. Now, I discourage people from saying it as it’s a very negative and offensive definition. I’ve also been called many different labels in many parts of the world including exotic, coloured and mulatto. I used to get very affected by these words as a child, because they ‘othered’ me, but now I try to not let those labels define my identity.
Growing up mixed-race in Nigeria is a very different experience to growing up in the UK. As a post-colonial country, Nigerian society still struggles with the glorification of Whiteness, lighter skin and looser hair texture. Because of this, I was very aware about my race and the privilege it gave me. As young as the age of 5, I noticed that teachers gave me and fellow mixed-race school mates preferential treatment. I was always complimented for my skin colour and hair texture, people openly saying that they were jealous and that they wished they had my skin and hair. It was quite an isolating experience and I think it made me very hyper aware of my difference. A lot of the time I found myself trying to prove that I was Nigerian. People were usually surprised by my Nigerian name or the way I spoke, with the usual responses following such as ‘you don’t look Nigerian’ or ‘you cannot be Nigerian’. Many people would even assume that my Mum was my friend or sister, confused that a dark skinned woman can have a light skinned child. Although there are many of us mixed-race people in Nigeria, the concept of us still seems to be somewhat of a phenomenon at times. As an adult, nothing has really changed to be honest. I would say I’m just used to the remarks and stares I get on a daily basis when I’m in Nigeria.
I started going to a predominantly White boarding school in Cambridge when I was 16. Although I was connected to my White, English identity from growing up with my English Father and visiting England multiple times a year, it was very difficult to feel like I belonged as an English person. I was labelled as just ‘Nigerian’ and I was treated as an international student who was not accustomed to British culture. People would be surprised by my knowledge of the Cambridge area and also my accent. Although I grew up in Nigeria and had a Nigerian accent, I have been able to code-switch and adjust my accent with both sides of my family. Essentially, I always found myself explaining how I was also English. It was a very isolating experience because I accepted my English identity, but I was not accepted as English by my English peers. In the end, I had to understand that people’s perception of my identity and who I am does not change it. As long as I know that I am both Nigerian and English, both Black and White, that’s all that matters.
I struggled with telling people that I'm mixed-race when being asked where I’m from, especially in Nigeria. I would usually refrain from saying ‘I'm Nigerian and English’ because it felt like I was making being mixed-race my personality or that I was ‘showing off’. Although, whenever I would just say ‘Nigerian’ I was met with questions with confusion and follow up questions about my identity. Now, I just say I'm ’Nigerian and English’, because that’s what I am.
While I have struggled with my mixed-race identity, I also love being bi-racial! I’ve been able to experience different cultures simultaneously and gain different perspectives in life.
To the next generation of mixed-race people struggling to navigate their identity, just remember that your identity can only be determined by you. As a racially ambiguous person, people will always have their own view, or question your identity, so be true to yourself and embrace your multi-racial identity.