Added: Darline Gile - Date: 08.03.2022 17:16 - Views: 17010 - Clicks: 2612
Actress and dancer Kelechi Okafor has built a large online following talking about issues affecting black British women. But recently, she has been under attack on social media for having a white fiance - which some have accused her of hiding. A while ago I thought, why does it seem that most prominent black female activists seem to be dating white men?
Then I had a moment of introspection where I thought, hang on, I'm one of those women. I speak up about racism and sexism affecting black women. I have an online following. And I have a white fiance who rarely features in my social media spaces. To explain where I stand, I need to tell you about my childhood. I was born in Nigeria but moved to south London when I was five.
I grew up in Peckham in a predominantly black neighbourhood - they call it Little Lagos. It was almost as if I hadn't left West Africa. I saw so many people who looked like me in Peckham, they were calling out to each other in the street.
There were people there my mum had grown up with in Lagos. The streets looked different. The buildings looked different but it all felt very familiar. I had left my father in Lagos to move in with my mother, but by the time I got here she had a new partner and was pregnant. I was moving into a family unit that I wasn't part of. Often, I felt like an outsider in my own home. I thought about my identity from a very young age. When I got to this country one of the first things I remember is speaking Yoruba in the car with my mum.
My stepdad, who was also Nigerian, turned to me and said: "Start speaking English. You're in England now, you're not a Bush Girl. I started thinking: "I better start speaking like an English girl. But around young people my own age there was a different set of challenges. Around my black friends, if I enunciated my words I was asked: "Why do you speak like a white girl?
Kelechi Okafor: Twerking through trauma. I went to a school with a mixture of students - Jamaican, Ghanaian, white British - and I excelled academically and at sport. And there, some white children would laugh at my pronunciation. These things started making me realise that I didn't sound like everybody else. There was an Irish woman, an informal babysitter, who would pick me up from school. I'd eat Nutella on toast with her children at her home while I waited for my mum to come and collect me.
I felt comfortable with them. When we got to the age of dating, my attraction to people wasn't based on ethnicity. But it was for some of my friends. If I said that I found a white guy cute some of my black friends would go: "Ugh!
No way! We're all in the school together. We're all in it together. My first white boyfriend was when I was a teenager. We didn't talk about race. I think that was mainly because we talked on MSN messenger. I lived online. A lot of my growing up, development and expression happened online. It was a different kind of connection.
In some ways, a more honest form of communication. But going out with a white guy was a whole new cultural experience. So different to my Nigerian upbringing. Culturally, my home was Nigerian, it wasn't British. While I dated both black and white boys, I couldn't ignore the fact that I felt more comfortable with black boys.
Dating them felt more familiar. It was like home. We had a shorthand. I didn't have to explain what okra or a plantain was or why they needed, out of respect, to call my mum Aunty. With the white English men I dated, I often felt sexually fetishised and often patronised.
With one serious boyfriend it bothered me that he called my mum "Christine", even when I specifically told him to call her Aunty. He wasn't respectful enough to adapt to that part of my culture. The same guy often put me down. One day he and I were at a pond, and I said: "Oh wow, look at that duck!
I can't believe you haven't been taught that. There was an undercurrent to his words. A superiority. That was a big moment for me. I met my fiance online, on a dating site. On my profile I had put an instruction to not contact me unless they had closely read my bio and understood my passions and hobbies. He sent me a message saying: "Would you like to go for a coffee sometime? I liked it. I want to meet you for a coffee. He wasn't going to woo me with a War and Peace-length love letter.
From our first date we got on. I thought: "Oh he's so handsome. We could talk so easily with each other. His colour didn't factor into my attraction. But there is a huge difference between going out with a white Polish man and a white English man. When people think about interracial relationships, very rarely do they think of the nuance.
Poland didn't have independence for more than a hundred years before Historically it's a country with people that know what it's like to be governed by outsiders. In my experience, many of the white English guys and I say English because I haven't had experience around Welsh, Scottish or Irish men I knew didn't know their true history. They don't know about much about the transatlantic slave trade or colonisation.
These parts of history aren't delved into in secondary schools. If they were, many people might have a better understanding of the minority experience. But what I've found with my fiance, and many Polish people I've met through him, is a deep understanding of being a minority and facing prejudice in this country. That way we can relate to each other. My partner grew up under communism in a working class family, and that place of scarcity is something I can relate to as well.
He's a migrant like me. He came here to build a life for himself. I wouldn't have that level of compatibility with a white English man. This doesn't mean I haven't experienced racism from Polish people. I was at the beach in Poland when a man called me the Polish version of the N-word. Luckily for me I'm not dating those people, I'm dating this person.
Love is not colour blind. I worry for people in interracial relationships who say, "I don't see colour.White male seeking couple
email: [email protected] - phone:(613) 929-5694 x 9279
Kelechi Okafor: 'I'm not hiding my white boyfriend'