Being asked “where are you from?” is something most British born ethnic minorities have been asked at some point. It’s a common feature of small talk but there was a time that this could have equally been a loaded question (and a prelude to being subject to some casual or candid racism) as it could be out of genuine interest. But as race relations have improved, most would argue it’s now more likely to be the latter.
For many, the generic response to that question is a caveated reply of “I was born here” or “I’m British”, followed by “but my parents are from…”. There’s a sense of having to fully account for your identity in being British but also reflecting the culture of your heritage. It’s not a rejection of either culture but more an attempt to balance them, illustrating the difficulty sometimes presented in being born of a diaspora that isn’t the land of your birth.
Growing up, this was a common response from my peers and I as we struggled to articulate that in essence we were from more than one place. As an adult, I’m able to better articulate those sentiments but I have found myself sometimes calling upon variations of “I’m British but my parents are from...”. Nonetheless, I have found that stopping at “I’m British”, or even claiming my parents’ nationalities as my own, is something I’m more comfortable with unless I’m prompted for more information. That isn’t because I feel any less black, Caribbean or British. If anything it’s the opposite. I don’t feel I need to justify my identity because I am sufficiently assured of it, regardless of what my response is.
However, for some, their experiences are seemingly not the same. Being British born and bred is something they reject. The UK is the place they merely live rather than a source of their identity. Stating that they were born in the UK is done so reluctantly and the emphasis is hurriedly placed upon the place they truly identify with. But why would someone born in the UK reject being British and in some cases do so with perceptible disdain?
Not to evoke Norman Tebbit’s “cricket test” but support for a national team can sometimes be a gauge of how people identify themselves. During the London Olympics, there was an apparent and uncontrived patriotism for the British athletes. People associated with them and wanted them to do well. Like many born in the UK, but with different a cultural background, this was no different for me. Though in addition, I supported the athletes of Jamaica and Barbados as the nations of my parents and places I equally identify with.
Conversely, not all British born ethnic minorities shared my support for Team GB. I found it difficult to understand why some people, born, educated, living and working in the UK all their lives, would openly wish failure upon British athletes and want the games, as a representation of the UK, to fail. Of course, someone choosing to not support a national team may have no bearing on their patriotism whatsoever. Yet when that stance is tinged with contempt and extended to broader British society, it suggests something more telling.
For the generations of ethnic minority communities that experienced racism at its peak in the UK, an aversion towards some aspects of British society can be deep rooted. As I wrote in a previous post, the attitudes of said generation, while not endorsed, can therefore be understood. Though for younger generations, who admittedly are still faced with institutionalised racism, what’s their excuse?
Some ethnic minority communities in the UK have a degree of insularity. As a result, this creates a bubble around them, preventing any other cultural influences from permeating their lives. Language, attitudes, exposure to cultural media and other cultural manifestations, all provide tangible factors to reinforce the influence of their culture and in some cases rejecting that of British culture in doing so. This almost creates a cultural microcosm that exclusively represents the ideals of the diaspora.
For many, despite not being born there themselves, there’s an inherent connection with the land of their heritage. That bond can be strong enough that it supersedes the more tangible link with one’s place of birth. Although unlike how I feel the connection to my Caribbean heritage is balanced with British culture, for others that balance either isn’t desired or is rejected.
For others, there’s an external or internal pressure to reflect the culture of their family and wider community. Externally, an attempt to fully assimilate this may take priority over a desire to achieve a culturally balanced identity. Similarly, and particularly for those within the second generation of a diaspora, there can be an internal conflict in seeking to ensure their ‘original’ culture doesn’t become diluted by that of another. In the process, any sense of being British might be rejected as it’s perceived as a threat to avoiding just that.
An argument can be made that place of birth and residence is circumstantial and has no correlation with identity. And as experiences can shape identity, a sense of ‘Britishness’ isn’t guaranteed merely by virtue of living in the UK. However, that argument undermines the notion of national identity and there are certainly precedents to refute it.
In a diverse society such as the UK, there will be always be people who rightly or wrongly don’t feel any connection to the county of their birth. Yet in critiquing multiculturalism as a social experiment, it cannot guarantee the cohesiveness it promotes and aims to achieve.
The culture of someone’s ethnic background needn’t be and shouldn’t be secondary to that of British culture, nor should it be vice versa. It is possible for both to coexist but some clearly choose for that not to be the case.
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iamalaw