Dear Beyoncé

I downloaded Tidal apprehensively. I'd seen the hype and knew I'd experience something both visually stimulating and musically mediocre but tried to keep an open mind.

The first shot of Beyoncé with cornrows and a fur jacket looking down with graffiti in the background gave me hope - I continued to watch barely breathing.

After 13 minutes and 45 seconds I minimised the screen to see how much time had passed and sighed with relief. 

Finally... 

Finally.

I smiled and allowed the first wave of tears to fall.

Dear Beyoncé,

To say I’m not a fan of yours is quite a scary thing to do, people do NOT like it. 

Friends, strangers, work colleagues, the general message is that as a young woman of colour you should be my queen. 

I used to think my indifference was bred from mediocre songs sold through fetishisation of the black female body but that was a fraction of it. Not until watching Lemonade did I realise the rest.

I discovered Destiny’s Child as a scared, confused child. At 10 years old I had just moved to Bristol from Wales where I was the only black child in the town. 

Told routinely that no-one liked me because I was black, at break boys would choke me behind the games shed and run away laughing. The girls would look away from me left gasping on the ground.

After two years my mum found out and confronted the headteacher who said it was her fault for bringing our ‘inner city ghetto’ into his nice school.

I learned to be ashamed of my blackness before I understood what it was. We’d moved from Harlesden, London where colour never occurred to me and then at 5 years old it put a target on my back.

In Bristol the polar opposite happened, now I was a wash-out. I didn’t understand the language, the culture, the expectation…

Destiny’s Child were my salvation. I saw you singing songs about independence. I could relate to that, I needed that. You were the common denominator I had with a culture I didn’t know how to connect with.

But then ‘Crazy In Love’ followed, a dumbed down chart tune that left me bitterly disappointed. In my opinion the words were meaningless, the message was obvious and the symbol was sex. The connection was gone.

However having had to navigate myself as a black woman in a predominantly white world socially and professionally, I now understand why you diluted yourself into a more palatable product.

Why should it be your responsibility to make a positive change? Maybe you wouldn’t be in such a powerful position today if you hadn’t sung titilating songs. 

It didn’t empower me, I saw it as a wasted opportunity but that’s the path you chose... And really, the music wasn’t made for me.

Lemonade changed that and I’ll happily wipe the slate clean of everything that came before it because this is what I’ve been waiting for. This is a product with integrity.

This is an album that has nothing to do with music and everything to do with words. Each one is relevant. Warsan Shire’s spoken word pieces together a version of you that we have never been allowed to see before. 

This is not Sacha Fierce, not an alter-ego but a black woman who has struggled with a common cultural issue - that it is our very substance that allows us to be disregarded or judged. 

Our looks, words, volume, pride, all play a hand in making us unpalatable.

Seeing you in this album unashamed and unapologetic of your anger, culture, sexuality, words, has caused celebration for black women everywhere. 

Never before have I seen more collective pride and appreciation than I have over the last few days.

So I put my hands up to you now and say thank you. Thank you for showing your audience and the world your Black Girl Magic in it’s multi-faceted form.

It's been worth the wait.

Friday Fuckery

White or Black?

Something happened this morning which has the high ability of ruining my day. I do not want it to ruin my day because it's just another occurance of every day racism. Normally I would brush it off, use it as an anecdote to laugh about ignorance - and not let in the hurt that comes with having to define and defend my heritage in regular day to day life... But I'm not going to do that this time. Because it's these small, insignificant, thoughtless acts that make it blindingly obvious that everyone is NOT seen the same.

Today I was filling out a form and I was working my way through it when I saw the ethnicity box. Tick whichever applies. I didn't tick any, because I don't feel like declaring my ethnicity is ever relevant. The woman behind the desk comes over to me and says she can't register me until I tick a box, so I tick White British and Black African. She comes back again and says in a very slow voice, "Yeah, you can't be both." 

I look at her. Avoiding my eyes she starts stuttering, "Well, what are you? I guess you'd be more black wouldn't you. I suppose you could tick white... But what are you, half and half?" and with that she signals towards a tiny box at the very bottom of the form that says 'other ethnic background'.

Now, some people will read that story and be filled with immediate rage (which I personally am still trying to shake off) whilst others will think, 'what's her problem? It's just a form, fill it out properly and she wouldn't have to ask you twice. Stop making a fuss'. So I'm going to break down that story from my point of view.

Firstly, I have been reading a book called The Pigment of Your Imagination: Mixed Race in Global Society (follow the link to Amazon - it's only £2!) which is one of the most relevant books I've read in an incredibly long time. An American woman travels to Britain, Kenya, Nairobi and Jamaica to talk to interracial couples and their mixed raced children about what race they consider themselves to be. I could talk about this book for days but for the sake of not rabbiting on I'll highlight one part. Joy Zarembka, the author, speaks to someone about what race they consider themselves and the woman says, (paraphrasing) "I do not define myself as a race, as an act of defiance whenever I get a form where I have to declare my race, I either tick no box or two, because I am not half of anything. And what business is it of theirs?"

As soon as I saw the registration form - this came to the forefront of my mind and I thought, what business is it of theirs? Will they treat me differently or file me differently if I declare myself white or black? I don't want to categorise myself for other people anymore, why can't I just be a human being? It may seem like a small activist act but, we all have a part to play. So I didn't tick the box.

When she came back and told me I had to tick a box I was annoyed because I always thought those boxes were voluntary but apparently I was not going to be given the service until I told them what ethnicity I was so I ticked White British and Black African because that is what I am. Not even going into the long list of White options that were listed - six in total - before the two options of Black African and Black Carribbean and how highly dismissive of culture that is, I thought OK. I caved. But at least I tried.

Then for her to come back a third time and tell me that I couldn't be both. I couldn't be both?

My hilarious parents

Just take a minute to think about what that means to me, or any mixed heritage person, for a second. This was a registration form that has to be filled out for help and I've been told that I cannot get a service unless I disregard one side of my heritage. And then for her to suggest and almost tick the Black African box for me (because I'm too stupid to do that myself) just showed her complete lack of understanding of what she was asking me to do. Eventually after a frankly embarrassing interaction where I stared at her and she made herself look even more foolish, she decided I would be better put in the 'other ethnic background' which was right at the bottom of the page. I didn't even see it when I first looked at the form.

As a 'race' us mixed folk are the fastest growing group in the world. Shock horror, it's true. Now as far as I'm concerned, unless you're an incest baby EVERYONE is mixed race. But for the sake of this, we'll consider mixed race as coming from two different racial backgrounds. So WHY is 'my' box at the very bottom of the list, why does it have no acknowledgment of my culture and why is it named other?

Like some reject spawn.

I am not an other. No-one is an 'other'. 

It may seem like making a mountain out of a molehill to some but the time is now. The time to start climbing that mountain is now. Because things are going to get worse before they get better, and by pretending a problem doesn't exist we are only prolonging the damage that is being done every day through casual racism.

Mixed Race

Disclaimer:

All I can do is write based on my personal point of view. So before you read on, know that I am aware everyone has their own experiences and I am merely portraying my own thoughts on this matter. It is a big issue, as to which we all have our own opinions. These are mine.

The subject I am briefly addressing is that of being a mixed race person in British society. The reason this has come to mind is because recently I got into a discussion with a friend who shall remain nameless and meant no harm, but who said that in his opinion, being mixed race, if anything gave you more options then if you were simply black or white and that it was more of a help than a hindrance.

Now I have many issues with this statement. One of the biggest being that this was coming from a white middle class fellow that really could have no idea what it's like to be mixed race. I didn't get angry because firstly, he didn't know what he was talking about and secondly, I think many people have misconceptions of what it is to be mixed race. Especially because every persons experience is different. For me personally, in my past being mixed race has never helped me. Until recently, when I began I appreciate the gift that it is to have so many different cultures and stories mixed up in my heritage, I saw being mixed race as another quality that made me stick out from my peers.

The way I try to explain this to people is that if there were two rooms, one full of black people and one full of white people, I would stick out in both. And that's what it's always been for me. In school, at home, with my family, with my friends, I've been different. All prejudice really boils down to is people's perceptions of others and themselves. I'm just not wild about letting someone tell me how lucky I am to be mixed race before they consider the years of prejudice and self-doubt that's come with being born with a certain skin colour in a society that isn't always willing to let you forget it.

Even now I don't feel totally comfortable in my skin here. As a mixed race child in Britain I was bullied in Wales for being black, and bullied in Bristol for being a wash out. I've been told I was a 'crap black person' because I didn't act a certain way, and though I've always attempted to laugh it off, it's a confusing thing. Why can't I just be whoever I am? Why do I have to conform to someone else's idea of what a black person is or should be? The only time I've felt truly happy in my skin is when I was in New York, because there it didn't matter. Everyone was mixed race; so no-one was. Class was more of an issue and because I'm English, no-one could really pin point me- it was amazing. Suddenly my personality was the only thing that was judged, my skin colour had nothing to do with it.

Maybe I'm more conscious of how people act around me because I've had bad experiences. Only a couple of months ago I went to a pub in the middle-of-nowhere English countryside with my mum, and the second I walked in I felt uncomfortable. I remember my mum looking at me and asking why I was so angry, but I didn't have an answer. It had been such a long time since I'd walked into a room and had every pair of blank eyes look at what I was doing, I'd forgotten what that feeling was. As soon as we left (after about 5 minutes) I recognised what had happened; the stares that which may not have been hateful, were still relentless. They made me feel like I didn't belong, I wasn't welcome.

Then there's the 'casual racism' that occurs with friends and strangers, which also isn't ok. I don't know why I still allow people to say things to me like, 'you're our token, you make the whole group feel like we're not racist'. Really? You really said that to me?! And I'm just supposed to laugh it off...?! I clearly need new friends. People at various jobs that have picked up on having a 'sista' on the team to ask all the 'black' questions. Its infuriating...and yet I play along because I don't really know what else to do. Being mixed race, on occasion, has turned me into a bridge; its like wearing a mascot costume you can't take off.

At the end of the day racism is a big word, and not one that should be used lightly. I know that most of the people that say stupid shit are doing so out of ignorance and not hate which is the difference. But of all the apparent awareness that's promoted, I can't see a whole lot of positive change. Apparently now, the only way to prove your NOT racist is to be REALLY racist...but in a FUNNY way!

Guess what, it's never funny. Think before you speak, because you never know what experiences someone else may have had. Racism is never a subject for banter, its personal and significant, and should not be joked about by others.