They Blatantly Tried to Tell me who I am — Inaccurately

Can I have one half-ignorant, half-thick, please? Cheers.

“This planet is for everyone, borders are for no one. It’s all about freedom.” — Benjamin Zephaniah

Living in the bubble

After years of nomading and working in various parts of the Middle East, I’ve decided to make the UK my final destination. I was beyond thrilled to make this move — it was time to settle and finally go home.

A new chapter, new dreams. Fish ’n’ chips, here I come!

Whilst being abroad I was living in a bubble with other fellow ex-pats. We were mostly teaching and school admin staff from different parts of the world. For the most part, Anglophones and a teeny tiny minority from other parts of Europe, like myself.

Each year, people would come and go or I would move to another country. But the spirit always remained the same. Black, white, beige, purple, striped; everyone was part of our little ex-pat bubble. Racism was not something we had to deal with. We had other issues, that were not based on our ethnicities or complexion. We were blessed and truly enjoyed it. Our enjoyment was largely due to it not being the real world. A belated discovery.

It was a bubble — that needed to be popped.

Prior to moving here, my only connection with the UK was; *Britpop, the TV show “Little Britain”, a few exchange students from my university days and good friends from the ex-pat community.

All in all, nothing to complain about. Especially, that I ended up marrying one of my UK ex-pat friends. It’s the accent, man. Yum.

*For you who are based in the US, Britpop is what I would describe as the British version of grunge. Or what my husband likes to call, white people music (racist). Blur, Oasis, The Verve, Suede — ah the good old days. I guess you can tell how old I am?

More “Bubbleland” talk

The beauty of diversity and cultural appreciation was a strong element in my upbringing and it’s something I’ve always treasured since I’m from a diverse background myself. Besides, where I spent the first 2 decades of my life was pretty tolerant and accepting towards non-natives — racism was a non-event. Which made me into this fantastic, cool chick who understands and can live with a multitude of circumstances and behaviors. It’s OK, I will survive.

To prove to you my fantastic coolness, I have learned to live with:

• Cars riding on the left side of the road.
• Baked beans. Overly sweet but a good meal.
• Calling Indians, Asians. Any other nationality from Asia must find another continent.
• Weetabix and shredded wheat. I don’t get the hype.
• Calling fries, chips and calling chips, crisps. Too many C’s in this sentence.
• Calling underpants, knickers.
• No roads for cyclists. Outrageous!
• Fresh bread bakeries are unheard of.
• The UK has nothing to do with Europe.

All this I can live with and have fully accepted. Mainly because I actually like it here. It feels like home to me — this must mean something.

Till now, I haven’t experienced any major cultural hazards in the UK, as I did in other countries. I believe it’s because of the multi-cultural impression you get in many parts of the UK. Regardless of what my husband and friends say about the UK with regards to the situation for ethnic minorities, it is better than in other parts of the world. Not great, just better.

Here’s your half-ignorant, half-thick. Anything else?

However, what I cannot comprehend and sadly have to live with against my will, is this here, shown in the image below.

This is a section found in most forms and applications in England. It leaves me astounded every single time.

Would it actually make a difference? Can’t services be extended irrespective of ethnic and racial origins?

According to my husband who is born and bred in the UK, it never made a difference. He is of mixed-race and identifies as Black/Afro-Caribbean. Filling this section in has not brought him any type of noticeable changes in his life. None, whatsoever.

I’m writing this entire piece just to get to this bit. Sorry, it’s taking me so long. Rantlers tend to do that.

It’s about an incident that took place a little while back.

This was when I was still pregnant with my youngest — approximately 3 years ago. At one of my prenatal appointments, I was having, what I thought was, a lovely chat with my GP about the human in my belly. Until she asked about my ethnicity.

I gave her my answer; a mixed-race of Middle-Eastern and European (Mid and West European).

She chuckled and said, “No, really — what is your ethnicity?”

I patiently repeated my explanation, thinking to myself why is this so important? Also, why didn’t she take my first answer? Not enough boxes to tick?

The doctor gave me the one-squinted-eye-look and said, “ Shall we just say Indian then!?”

And speechless I was. I just had a mini heart attack, y’all. Thank God my brain was still functioning after the dawkt’r dropped this ingenious revelation.

On our way back, my children were still amazed and wondered if there was the slightest possibility we could be Indian.

Funny story; when my parents met at uni, my mother thought my father was some handsome Indian royalty coming to study in Europe. Which made me realise how deeply ingrained racism is in our daily lives. So basically only foreign royalty get the chance to study in amazing Europe. Never thought of this before my incident. Sad.

I finally got home and couldn’t wait to fill my husband in with the incident. After I finished my rant, he said “Why didn’t you ask her if Jesus was Indian, too?’ to which I replied “Sorry babes”, was busy being speechless with minor brain paralysis.

How can someone, who’s supposedly educated, be this ignorant? or thick? My shocked self couldn’t classify this as racism. However, my husband was pleased to inform me that what I experienced was racism. He wished me happy racism, and many more to come. I still love him.

After this unforgettable incident, I didn’t encounter any issues with any medical professionals. Until 3 weeks ago when I went for my COVID jab.

Oh, boy.

The nurse asked me about my ethnicity. This time I said that I prefer not to disclose my ethnicity. She told me “It’s OK, this won’t affect your visit today”. Alright, then.

I told her my ethnicity — and lo and behold, she ticked the Asian mixed with white box!

One more half-ignorant, half-thick to go please!

Mind you, the nurse was of Indian heritage herself. She told me.

Whoever came up with this system has never experienced racism. Neither the ones analyzing the collected data from this unnecessary checklist. I doubt they were ever bullied at school for that matter.

Big sigh and conclusion

The truth is, racism in the UK is not what I would call subtle. I had opposite expectations and was deeply disheartened after what I’ve learned from others, who were involved in similar situations. My first time encountering racism left a sour taste in my mouth. All of a sudden I “know” what racism feels like. You know, like when going on a diet and suddenly you can spot all overweight people on the street? That’s how I felt about racism.

I enjoy living here the way I want but it will definitely come with a price.

Why should anyone live under this sort of pressure? I can somehow see the struggles of ethnic minorities here in the UK. It makes me curious about how life would be for my children. Have I done the right thing when we moved to the UK?

Our ethnicity and heritage are our wealth and it’s unacceptable to be denied that sense of pride due to oblivious systems — composed and applied by an ill-minded minority. Don’t let anyone take that away from you. Certainly not a checklist.

Thanks for staying around. Until next time, be kind.

Jay