I am Mixed Race.

I don't have to suffer the daily indignities that many visible people of colour do. But I still have a strong understanding of both the overt and subtle racist abuse that non-white people can suffer.

The thing I find hardest about being mixed race, but passing as white, is having the Indian half of me completely dismissed.

I was born in England, I grew up in England, most of my friends are here and a lot of my family. So I admit that in my every day life I identify more strongly with my English side. However that doesn't stop me being fiercely protective over my Indian heritage and I won't let anyone deny it.

The so-called norm in British society is to be white, and yet, when you aren't white and one side of your heritage is seen as something inferior, it makes you want to celebrate it and stand up for it.

Racism in Britain today is different to what it was say, sixty years ago, but the impact of the abuse suffered crosses generations.

My Dad is British. He is also Indian. A Hindu. And was born and raised in Kenya.
He came to England in 1964 after being awarded a place at Loughborough University to study for a degree in Automobile Engineering (and later Business Management and Marketing followed by a PhD in Psychology)

As a lone Indian in the town he faced racism.

"People would ignore me. I would be left out of things. No one would speak to me or sit near me."

This took its toll and not long after arriving in England, he felt like giving up. But couldn't prove his parents right (who told him he wouldn't last and tried to make him stay and be part of the family business in Nairobi)

One autumnal afternoon his life took a change.

"I could see other lads playing hockey. I had always played hockey back home. We grew up playing it all the time. I saw this as my chance. I left my Halls of Residence and went over to the hockey pitch. As usual I was ignored. But I think they were curious as to why I was watching them so closely. Eventually they came over. The captain asked 'what do you want paki?' (I have never been to Pakistan. I am Indian)
'I'd like to have a go' I replied, standing in my flip flops.
They laughed at me. And I just stared back at them. I didn't understand the joke.
'Think you can play do you?' the captain asked me. 'Think you could be as good as me do you?'
And I replied, quite honestly, 'yes. You're not bad, but yes I think I'm better than you'.
This news was like a red rag to a bull! So he tossed me a stick, and beckoned for me to join in. Still in my flip flops. The 'raging bull' had lost his cool. Back home in Kenya we always played on hard soil ground, so ball control was so important in the game of hockey. In England, we were here playing on grass, where the ball moves much slower. Because of the skills I had developed growing up, I was able to run rings around him.
Shortly after this performance, he pulled me to one side. 'What's your name paki?'
I told him I was Kish. That was the last time I was called paki. (at university anyway) I was now one of the lads.
And because of that I realised that sport is a wonderful leveller. It breaks down barriers."

Of course off the university campus, life wasn't so kind to my dad. He suffered many beatings at the hands of thugs in gangs who preyed on ethnic groups. However, much like the story of 'Daniel son' in Karate Kid, this pushed him to turn his hand to martial arts. He gained a black belt and with it self protection and respect.

Fast forward a couple of years to when my mum met my dad. And I asked if she ever faced any racial discrimination. She said never. Not even as a joke.

The effects of racism in Britain during this time had such a huge influence on my dad that he tried to ignore his Indian roots and take on what was considered then, a British identity. He wasn't ashamed of his Indian heritage, but it just wasn't considered 'cool' or desirable. Even now he will laugh mild racism off and call himself a coconut.

As much as I understand why he felt like this, after all during his early years in England, 'paki-bashing' was the norm, it also meant that he didn't pass on very much of my Indian identity to me as a child. Much of my background is characterised by lost connections. As I have got older I see this as a regret and I have actively reclaimed my Indian heritage. I have visited the country and spent time learning more about the culture, the history and the Hindu religion. And this has become easier as my dad has got older and more accepting of who he is. Both he and my Indian step mum help me with the language and the whys, whats and whereabouts. And from this I have learnt that exploring and identifying with one side of your heritage doesn't make you any less of the other side.

I see my life as privileged. Having being raised to take on the unique pleasures and benefits of being exposed to multiple cultures. Learning two very different religions - with their own traditions and festivals. I take part in them all and have always raised my own children to be part of both communities too.
My paternal grandmother died before I was born and I barely remember my paternal grandfather who lived in India and died when I was nine years old. So the Indian influence isn't as strong as I would have liked. Having said that we have always celebrated Hindu festivals such as Diwali and Rakki Day (when, as a girl, I would traditionally receive money - much to my brother's annoyance!)
And of course, living in the best of both worlds, we get to eat the best food!

During lockdown my children have regular video lessons with my Indian family, who teach them Hindi, how to cook chapatis and about Partition. Whilst my English family teach them history, science, verbs and how to make the best yorkshire pudding!

There are elements of being mixed race which are frustrating, like when people look at me and ask "where are you from-from?" Or when people pass judgement, make comments or 'jokes' about people of colour, and then turn to me and say "Oh but not you. you're different." And even when work colleagues ponder why I don't seem to have much time off work sick, and then conclude that it must be because being 'half Indian' I must have some 'dirt' in me, which obviously helps my immune system.
My dad has always taught me not to retaliate, but to rise above such comments. That we cannot judge other people by our own high standards. And that actually these questions and statements say more about them than me.

So I say yes to those people. Yes I am different. I am proud to have a mixed heritage.
But I am also proud of many other things than that.
Your identity doesn't stop at the colour of your skin.