But You Don’t Look It – what it means to be mixed-race and white in the Cotswolds

I grew up in Minchinhampton. It’s a small town and was even smaller 25 years ago when I started at its primary school. I don’t remember being made aware of mine and my family’s ‘otherness’ until that point. 

Enter those five words that have followed me around since the age of four; When I’d tell people of my half Sri Lankan heritage, or when they meet my mother (or my more authentically Sri Lankan looking older brother) for the first time, I was met with the disbelieving cry of “But you don’t look it!” 

My mum was asked, often in front of me, by other parents if I was adopted or if she was my nanny. When I was born, almost every member of the ward came to ‘visit’ us to “see if the rumours were true”, and one of the nurses joked to my Mother that “if you weren’t the only person to have had a girl this evening, we’d have thought there was a mix up!”. It wasn’t until my adulthood that I understood just how invasive and hurtful these comments were, especially for my Mum; This constant disbelief that she had, in fact, birthed me.

 You may read this and be thinking that there is no bad intention in any of these actions, that people didn’t mean any harm and were just being curious. But reverse things for a second. Would you go up to a total stranger in the playground and ask them if their child was adopted? Would you joke about the biological link of any Mother to her newborn child just hours after she gives birth and parade multiple members of staff to her room, like a zoo animal? Because that’s what it felt like for her. This constant invasion of personal boundaries is a daily battle for Black, Indigenous and People of Colour. 

And really it’s not that complicated. If you don’t know someone, and have not got their express permission to touch / joke / ask about certain characteristics of theirs, stay silent. This should go for literally anyone you meet.

 Being mixed race and white is a strange and fascinating thing. On the one hand, overt racism will never happen to me, I am white after all. But I do get put in the spotlight, as do my mum and brother (but MUCH more so my mother) for our uncommon genetic appearance in relation to one another. Now, there is absolutely no questioning that we are related. My hair is darker and wavier / curlier, and my features and mannerisms are a direct and clear mix of both of my parents. But it still doesn’t stop people commenting those five annoying little words. 

 So next time you find out that the heritage someone chooses to own wasn’t what you were expecting, maybe try saying “that’s so interesting” or “what is that experience like?”. You never know what else you might learn.