The story begins.....
I grew up in the 80s in Wales, and later England. Half-Indian, half-white. Youngest of four children, who despite having the same parentage and ethnic mash-up, had very different experiences. So if there was such an range of insight in our house, what must all the other Mixed race experiences be like?
Now I’m all grown up it seems there are more than two sides to every story. I’m now in a Mixed culture marriage and we have our beautiful boy who is a melting pot of everything we are. This certainly threw up a lot for us as parents and really made me re-examine how I’d grown up. Mixed relationships bring so many challenges and hurdles but if both of you are Mixed – and then you mix together – things get even more tangled. Throw in children and no one knows whether they’re coming or going!
I have been keenly aware that my child’s experience will be different from my own. Giving him the language and space to articulate this is paramount. Knowing that I need to learn from him and also be prepared for him to take the lead. Knowing that at times all my experiences will not be helpful to him at all – as he faces a different world with a different face.
White passing is in the eye of the beholder
Here I want to aknowledge the huge amount of privilege I hold as a lighter skinned brown person – that being said. Let’s discuss the phrase, “white passing.” I am white passing. Except when I’m not. White passing is in the eye of the beholder. It all stems from their point of view – which gives me a deep insight into their mindset. From some poeople of the global majority they use the term white passing towards me and it becomes and incredibly barbed phrase. “It’s ok for you because you’re white passing.” “You don’t understand true racism because you’re white passing.”
Many white people don’t exactly know or use the phrase but they encapsulate it when they treat me as entirely white – i. e. they spout racism in front of me with ease – and when I call them on it things get very awkward and they look sheepish. Or they pull out the classic, “but you’re not really,” or, “you’re only half.”
It’s true that I don’t experience anything like the racism of darker skinned or more overtly POC people. There’s a sliding scale even within Mixed racedness of course. I’m not denying that, but this is one of those times where as Mixed people we aren’t trying to argue it’s not worse for you. We’re just telling our lived experience and adding our voices and stories to the narrative.
Is being Mixed race like being in Mean Girls?
I always expected the Brown people to have my back. After all – even if I’m not as Brown as them……I am not white either. We live in a world where systemic racism wants to quash ambition or sucess of people of colour and oppress them at every step of the way. So you don’t fit in? Well neither do I – so surely that means we can not fit in together??? Doesn’t it??? Oh, no, you won’t have me either?
Wait – is being Mixed race like being in the movie Mean Girls? I don’t mean that on Wednesdays we wear pink……..
It is like being in an American high school. I’m standing in the lunch room, holding my tray and trying to find a seat. My glance darts from one side of the room to the other…..
My eyes stare imploringly…can I sit with you? Room for a little one? I try the other side….any spare seats? Each has a reason to reject me. But how can that be? I thought that the reason they don’t want me over there would be the very reason which would mean I could sit at your table…..but not so.
Oh well, I guess I’ll sit at a table on my own….and hopefully some likeminded people will ask to join me. Or if they walk into the room sheepishly I will recognise that look in their eye and invite them over.
I just hope they don’t think I’m a crazy lady with a twitchy eye – unless eye twitching is so fetch these days?
You can't be Asian and have freckles
“Indian people don’t have freckles!” “That’s the brown trying to escape.” “You could do dot-to-dot on your face…..maybe if you joined up all the freckles you’d be properly brown.” “You look like you’ve been splattered with s**t.” “This is why you shouldn’t go in the sun, you’ll end up too dark.”
All of these things have actually been said to me. Throughout my life I have been critisised for my freckles from both of my cultures – it seems no one loves them. My white mother was covered in freckles from head to toe – you know the ones that have barely any gaps between. I always thought that my brown skin with freckles on top was a perfect representation of my mix.
However, my Indian grandmother had freckles for days too. To suggest that Indian people can’t have freckles is quite frankly ridiculous.
Did I spend years cursing my freckles and trying to cover them up with too much foundation? You bet I did! (This was obviously made all the more comical because I never could find the right shade of foundation, obviously!!)
Have I spent far too long wishing for “clean” and “clear” skin? Absolutely! However, I have grown to love and accept them. They are yet another part of my journey to self-acceptance. And actually, I don’t have to explain where they come from or why I have them – I wear my heritage on my skin with pride. Like nature’s tattoos they tell a tale of my ancestry. If I want to cover them one day (with finally the right shade of foundation) I can. And if I want to let my freckle face fly free the next, I can. My face, my choice.
What's in a name?
This has been a sore spot all my life. When our parents named us they gave my sister an Indian middle name, my brother an Indian first name, my next brother an Indian middle name – and me….well I got two Welsh names because I was the one born in Wales.
No Indian names for me, the one who has been referred to as the “most Indian,” (whatever that means) by the whole family. The only one who kept uncut kesh (hair) until I was a teenager.
My missing name was a betrayal of my heritage. I had nothing to show to justify my Browness. So when “those questions” came I couldn’t even justify it by stating my name.
My surname is a Punjabi Sikh name so (if you are in the know) you would recognise this name, possibly know an area of Punjab where is could be from, definitely identify the caste associated with this name (we do not support the caste system btw) and perhaps even know someone with this name. If you are not Indian you have likely never heard this name and won’t even identify it as an Asian name. So there again, in Western situations it can’t mark me out.
My name is Rhiannon which is usually shortened to Rhia which, in various spellings can absolutely be an Indian name. I took Kaur into my name at a young age which does thankfully speak for itself in the UK or India. And then I got married to a person with a Spanish-y sounding surname. Not a common one – so much so that most people don’t actually know it is Spanish. Although my husband’s complicated background means that he is not actually Spanish anyway. Are you keeping up???
So now I have a new problem…..many white people will always assume I’m Spanish/Greek/Italian. The English mind can be totally simplistic, thinking I might have a mild tan. If you give them that Spanish-y name it cements that thought and they feel pretty pleased with themselves. So yeah, there’s a lot in a name – and there’s alot ouf of my name. It still poses problems for me and there’s a lot to unpack here.
