Racism in Britain Part.1

My teen years living in surrey – By Julie Wright

 

Image Caption – “The face you make when you hear a white girl says she wants a mixed raced baby but doesn’t want to sleep with a black boy”

 

Racism in this country is discrete, virtually undetectable … at first. Finely packaged in a coded language such as “Where are you from?” despite the fact my British accent is undeniably obvious.

 

It’s a look and shift in body language. A vibe that only someone like me could ever pick up on.

 

The touching of my hair by one of the “popular” white girls and hearing her group snigger as she walks away pleased with herself not muttering a single word to me.

 

The white boys in secondary school constantly calling me names and making fun of my very existence as a form of entertainment for themselves and their peers, whilst the teachers pretend to see nothing and no mention of bullying is uttered from their mouths.

 

Hearing that so and so’s mother didn’t want their child playing with us because we’re black or so and so’s grandparents allowing their dog to bark and intimidate a 14-year-old girl because she shouldn’t have been in the house.

 

Being in what you thought was your so-called friends’ car and hearing their sister refer to your mother an immigrant with spite in her tone.

 

Having to be exposed, through that same supposed friend, to a grown man, pot belly and balding head, trying to intimidate a 14yr old little girl because their mothers an immigrant and therefore that warrants hate. Despite the fact that immigrant mother pays taxes her wages from her JOB and contributing to UK society.

 

Racism is being the only black face again in a college class filled with white boys in the countryside, a white boy throws his phone to the floor yelling “black piece of shit” then looking at me grunting “oh.” And I’m expected to laugh it off.

 

Racism is wearing a weave and having a white boy tug at it and say “Oh so you can feel that?” when I turn around in reaction to his tug

 

Racism is a white boy testing me, “can I say the word nigga” whilst watching my reaction. Racism is another white boy telling me the story of how his supposed black friend told him she hates being black and looking at me, waiting for me to agree with her.

 

Racism is being asked to booty shake for them.

 

Racism is those same boys thinking I find them attractive, simply because they’re white.

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