T A P E story board

I used to try and straighten my hair every morning but within an hour it would get thicker and frizzier and people would tell me I “look nicer when my hair is wet” which basically meant I always had it tied back and gelled down. One time we had a water sports day and afterwards, rather than tying it up, I just let it hang out to dry and watched the curls and the thickness ensue (I think I’d lost my hair band in the water). Later that day an older, popular girl was handing out those crude awards for people in the year that some schools have and I was given the “Diana Ross Award”, the girl then turned to me laughing and said, “I wasn’t going to give you anything but then I saw your hair”. I knew immediately it wasn’t a compliment.  
Nellie
British-Jamaican-Australian

I think we should all have a tape that recites our ethnic heritage. For me, I get asked ‘where are you from?’ so often I have an automated response. Can we have an automated electric device that plays out your heritage whenever someone asks?  Can we make it a pocket-sized device that we can carry and charge?
Caroline
Asian and White

I once was in a taxi and the driver wouldn’t take me and my three other friends because one of them was very drunk – it was really loud and [there was] a lot of arguing. I could tell he was sort of South Asian and I speak Hindi pretty fluently so, in a last ditch effort, I spoke to him in Hindi a lot more politely and suddenly he was like, “yeah sure let’s go”. And my three friends in the taxi looked at me and were dumbstruck as to what I could’ve possibly said to make a guy go from wanting to kill me to happily helping.
Ishan
3rd culture Indian Brit 

When I was younger I didn’t really think about it much, but as I got older I felt more and more guilty that I wasn’t able to speak Igbo fluently. It feels like quite a loss now. I asked my mum once why she & my dad never taught me and my siblings, and she said she didn’t want us to get confused – which is in and of itself confusing since they both grew up bilingual! Anyways, I’m channeling any remaining frustration into knowing how to cook the best pepper soup and jollof of all time instead.
Angie
British-Nigerian by way of South London

First house party of a new school and I had managed to stay mostly under the radar. As people got louder and more unsteady on their feet, a crowd of white boys’ faces surrounded and leered down at me: “So would you say you’re more white or more black?”

Saying “more white” got me a “safe!” and a fist bump…

Who knows what saying “more black” would have got?
Anon
British-Caribbean 

Random things I remember from my childhood: when my [Indian] mum was working late, my uncle would pick me up from primary school – the teachers would be suspicious and hesitant to let me go with him at first because they didn’t believe we were related. Similarly when my eldest brother was a teenager he would be out and about with my mum – and people would assume she was his sugar mama (!!!) rather than his actual mother because he was the most English-looking, and they looked so different. When I was around my paternal white English side of the family, my dad would use English slang and I would have no idea what he was talking about. He would ask, “do you want a sarnie?” and little me had no idea that was just English slang for ‘sandwich’. I experience my ethnicity being assumed (wrongly) pretty regularly, and a lot of the time in the form of catcalls on the street, men saying “hola señorita” when I’m half Indian and not Spanish.
Lucy
English and Indian

Being a second generation British-Asian growing up in London, I’ve always felt very at home and accepted, like I belong, and never felt as though my heritage or background was something that was discriminated against. My experiences both at school, university and in working life have been extremely fortunate in that the people I’ve met and developed relationships and bonds with have been positive and full of love. I have been able to receive a successful and fantastic education because of the sacrifices my grandparents made when they came over to this country from India, and my parents have always instilled in my sisters and I the importance of remembering our roots and ensuring we are still in touch with them. I feel like the cultural diversity in London and the encouragement to be proud about one’s heritage makes that possible every day. 
Anon
British-Asian

“Hi there, how can I help you today?”

Their eyes descend. First critical, then suspicious and after some time, a brief realisation. 

The cognitive dissonance clashes with the reality. 

“Nurse, get me a blanket”

“I’m actually the junior doctor, it’s nice to meet you”. 

Eyes pointedly scan my identification card.  

It’s difficult to argue against the formality of that piece of plastic which states in very unambiguous, clinical terms what my role is. 

He sits back in bed, a tad crest-fallen and a little bit annoyed. 

I make my eyes smile through the mask while my mouth stays pursed. 

We go through the motions together: How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Would you like me to update your family? 

They become warmer but still curious – “Where are you from?”

I always resented that question, or at least the tone of it – a thinly veiled interrogation framed as polite conversation. 

“I’m from London”

“Okay? But where were you born?” 

“I was born in London”

“So where is your family from?” 

Ah, there it is… I spill over the words of the rehearsed monologue I have practiced so many times before to satisfy the real question: Why are you Black and yet sound like me? 

“My parents immigrated from Nigeria to study here and met each other. They had me and my siblings in London. So I’m British but ethnically I’m Nigerian.” 

“Ah that makes sense.” 

I continue with my examination – “Take a deep breath.” 

He sits back and smiles and regales with tales of how he stopped “coloured” children from stealing his shopping at Brixton station that one time, and how my parents must be very proud as not many of us do well – it’s a good thing they came here. 

I focus on his heart sounds: S1 – check, S2 – check. No added sounds. 

“I guess so. Thank you. Do you have any questions?” 

I leave the cubicle and walk to an empty storage room. 

I start peeling off layers of the stifling mask, visor, hairnet, gown.  

Take a deep breath – in and out.  

Only 10 more hours to go. 
Anon
British-Nigerian

I’m neither fully German nor fully Russian so I usually say I’m Jewish when people want to know where I’m “really” from. I don’t speak Hebrew but that doesn’t stop me from embracing my traditions and my roots. It’s comforting to me and people will be confused either way. I’m a Weltbürger (citizen of the world) and couldn’t be happier. 
Anon
German-Russian-Jewish

Here’s the thing. I’m not sure anyone in my family truly knows where our surname comes from.

We have a family consensus of course. Our name looks French, sounds French, and because of the legacy of colonialism in the Caribbean, it must be French. Then a friend of my dad’s says, “hey, it could be Dutch”, and because of that very same legacy of colonialism, this too could be true. I did some digging but only found more questions. It turns out that after slavery was abolished many formerly enslaved people created their own family names. It throws a spanner in the works of our scattered family origin story – have we been telling it wrong this whole time?
Jade
British-St Lucian

Although born in the UK, I was raised as a Caribbean. Luckily for me, Brixton – or “Little Jamaica” – gave me a sense of belonging which few people can understand. I went to the local school, which was diverse, with children from different economic and social backgrounds. I still get asked, when did you arrive? I tell them 1958 – and I no longer say ‘born’. Some nationalities can hide in plain sight and are assumed to be English. When you’re Black, you are foreign – and an immigrant does not belong. Reading history books has given me knowledge, which I am still accumulating, understanding who I am. What is not clear is the hatred some of us are still experiencing 70 years on.
Anon
Caribbean

Growing up in Hong Kong and having moved here at 17, in both places I was constantly met with a lot of resistance towards my identity. I see myself as almost fully Chinese, having grown up in HK and with Cantonese as my mother tongue – however, as I look white, people there often challenge me on my identity when I tell them I’m Chinese, sometimes in a hostile manner. I would often be asked to “prove” my heritage, and sometimes people from other ethnicities would forget that I’m Asian and speak about Asian people in front of me in a disrespectful manner, which is quite difficult to handle. I would definitely say the biggest challenge is the denial of my identity and that I’m never “white enough” or “Asian enough” for anything.
Laura
Hong Kong-British (Mixed race)

It took me four years to graduate from university and land my first, full-time paid role. I can’t say that the long wait was because of my ethnicity, but what I will say is the role came about through Creative Access – an organisation I’m really proud to be associated with. With their support, I landed a role I would have never even dreamed of. In that role, surrounded by seven exceptionally successful white people in their approaching 60s, I was the only person of colour and the only one under 25 (at the time). They have consistently celebrated me and have encouraged me in the workplace and have always given me a seat at the table – not for or because of my ethnicity, but because they really believe representation matters. On paper, I definitely was an anomaly, but I have never felt more at home with the people I worked with. 
Sejal
Indian

A conversation with my manager at an old workplace – the definitive “Karen” before the name was even used as a description – the week after joining:

“Where are you from?”

”_____”

“No, but where are you from?”

”_____. I was born there.”

“Okay then, where are your parents from?”

“East London. Real proper East London – they were born where you can hear the Bow Bells.”

“Then where were their parents from?”

“My mum’s parents are Caribbean.”

“Ah I thought so, because you’re too brown to just be from here…”

I used to be so pressed when these conversations happened, but now I just find them really funny that people are trying to weed me out and prove that I’m not English. Joke’s on you cos I’m embarrassed to be from this island anyway!!
Anon
Mixed – white and Black Caribbean

It was one of those rare fun days out at school in year 8. My class and I walked along the high street to a retirement home where we’d take part in different activities for the day. I can’t remember exactly why but I pointed out a lingerie shop and pronounced the word “lin-ga-ree” as I’d heard my Nigerian mum say countless times at home… For some reason unbeknown to me, no one knew what I was on about until I pointed to the store and everyone stopped and laughed reiterating the correct pronunciation. I added lingerie to the long list of words I had mispronounced over the years because of my Nigerian parents. 
Busayo
British-Nigerian

I moved to the UK close to a decade ago, leaving my adopted home country of Hong Kong – the son of immigrant parents who built a life and family away from their own homes. And since then it’s become so important to me to nourish all the different parts that make up my identity and grow, adapt and survive without neglecting any one facet. It’s often a challenge to do so – constantly fighting off multiple assumptions about my identity and heritage; whether it’s because of a foreign accent, or a name that betrays a history of colonisation. But through it all, it’s made me really value my perspective and rich identity – and importantly, value that in others too.
Ramon
Filipino

I notice people’s perceptions of me change with my hairstyle. Before starting my first job after university, I worried for weeks that my natural hair would not be accepted. I never saw any images of black women in the corporate world wearing their natural hair. I chose a slicked back hairstyle in the beginning, and over time, I have felt more comfortable to wear my hair in more manageable and natural styles.

I was born and went to primary school in London. For secondary school, I went outside of London and developed a wider sense of myself and I found that I enjoyed activities that were not the norm for young black people in London. I also found that I began to speak differently – (although I tried my best to hold on to my accent). When I left school and came back to London, I felt I no longer fitted in with my peers of Caribbean and African heritage. There were many moments where my blackness was challenged and it took a while for me to find my confidence and embrace my experiences – as they have made me who I am. 
Anon
British-Jamaican 

In my first year of uni, I put a vowel between two consonants in my surname so it would be easier to pronounce.
Rida
North African Maghrebi British

Rewind
To river bank weekends 
Skipping rocks 
Catching crabs 
Jumping Jacks
Ring around the roses everyone drops
Family filled houses 
Uncles in fronts yards
Slamming dominoes like rhythms to drums
They let the rum run rampant on their throats
Watch as every hair on the chest would come to a stand
Hear them roar 
As they reminisce on their bygone years
Then it’s on to politics
And why the Prime Minister’s not doing better for the country
Cousins in the back 
Talking about the eclipse secrets that live in the corners of the rave
Who’s getting it on with who, 
Which gyal just a little bit too loose
The boys mentally thinking they’re men 
Reaching for heights of dad, 
But still fear the right hand of their mum
Aunts in the kitchen 
Gossip is cooking 
Everyone’s opinion is boiling and bubbling 
Vintage polystyrene cups
Filled with chicken foot soup
Peel back that aluminium foil 
Smell the steam fish and crackers 
Take a fork to the yam, dumplings and green bananas
Hard food, that sit in the bottom of your stomach,
Decaying like childhood memories
Rewind 
Russenï 
Jamaican

I was born and raised here, and my family has called this country home for generations. It will always be home. But I also now find myself calling another place home. Punjab. I have only visited that home once. I didn’t know the streets and lanes like the back of my hand and I went as a visitor – a guest. But it was only when I left that I realised I now have more than one place to call home. Another place that feels familiar, where I feel safe, where I see myself and meet my history. A place I miss.
Anon
Punjabi

My Grandad was obsessed with mango season. Growing up, he would eat mangoes fresh from the tree, and the sensations left a deep impression on him. He fled to Britain when he was a teenager and was never one to talk much of the past and his feelings about it. However the mango season seemed to spark something within him and he never failed to bring us boxes he had picked up from Southall. These fruits seemed to awaken some joy within him and gave me a glimpse of his previous life, one that I could barely imagine.
Anon
British – Mizrahi Jewish 

It was an amazing feeling traveling to East Africa as an adult after leaving when I was 14. I was back in Nairobi, retracing my steps from the run down housing estate we used to live in, down the railway tracks where aunties would be selling their samosas and foodstuff, then move everything out of the way as freight/passenger trains zoomed past within two metres of their stalls. All of it was so familiar, as though I had just been away on a short holiday because the transition back was seamless. I do ask myself though, if I could ever live there as I had lived when younger, as I am very aware that I was romanticising my childhood during that walk while staying in a 4 star apartment.
Andrew
Sudanese-Australian

Being mixed race, people say odd things… but maybe it doesn’t seem odd until you step away, or we just get used to them. I’m light skinned with blonde curly hair. People say “that’s so cool” or “I wish I was interesting”. One good friend has repeatedly told me, “but your mum’s not really black” and “you’re not actually mixed race”. Obviously he doesn’t think I’m dark enough to qualify. Black family members tell me I’m lucky and white friends always want to ask me questions about racism as if I must know the answer.
Anon
Mixed Jamaican and Australian

It’s always been difficult to adapt to a new country as an immigrant, but one thing that has never changed in my 11 years in the UK is the inability of British people to make an effort to learn how to pronounce my name, and that I always have to spell my name everywhere. Unfortunately, I have to use ‘Ben’ in places to get away from this. Ironically ‘Ben’ means ‘I’ in Turkish.
Berkin
Turkish-British

I have always been proud of my Caribbean heritage. My mother’s side is from Barbados and Dominica and my father’s side is from Jamaica. I am East London born and based so I’ve always been used to having a lot of cultures around me. As I develop my professional career in the arts industry, specifically community engagement in theatre, I’ve noticed the environments I find myself in do not always reflect the vibrant London culture I know and love. I’m on a journey of self-discovery with a love for the arts between two worlds. As I find my sense of belonging, I stop looking for myself in rooms where I do not exist and instead I start bringing myself to these rooms. I hold my power, strength and belonging. I do not need to seek it and I use my poetry and voice to express it. 
Kimberleigh 
Black British - Caribbean

As a teenager I felt conflicted – am I Black British, or am I a Black person in Britain? This feeling hit home when I made a phone booking at a restaurant under my name, Anna. Upon arrival, the lady was less than welcoming towards the petite black women stood before her. 

“Are you sure I spoke to you earlier?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason, I’m just surprised.”

“At what?”

“Your English is very good.”

We all stayed silent and to this day I wish I’d said something. Not that I had anything profound to say at that age.

As an adult, the phrasing has evolved to “You’re very well spoken.”

The verbalisation of implicit bias is subtle but damaging.
Anna
British-Zambian 

Once I was on the tube and a guy started trying to flirt with me.

He asked: Where are you from? Spain?

I said: Portugal

Him: Aw, that’s the same! So, where are you going?
Joana
Portuguese

Them: Are you from London?

Me: No actually, I grew up in Sweden.

Them: Oh, how old were you when you moved there?

Me: Moved there, from where?

Them: ……

Me: I was born and raised in Sweden.

Them: “But where are you really from?”
Isra
Swedish-Iraqi