There was a man called Christopher Columbus who sailed the seas killing, stealing and renaming places occording to his own desire.  On Sunday Novemeber 3rd, 1493, Chris (yes, I renamed him) noticed an island, but never himself touched the land. Yet, he still felt qualified to rename it from Wai'tu kubuli, which means Tall is her body to Dominica, which means Sunday in Latin. ​Today Wai'tu kubuli is called The Commonwealth of Dominica, pronounced as Dom-min-EEKA. while the Republic of Dominica is pronounced Dom-MIN-ica. 

I went to Dominica when I was 11 years old and it changed my life. Not only was the country absolutely stunning, the people friendly but I saw with my own eyes what life in Dominica was like. I found a cultural home in Dominica and I look forward to taking my daughter there to discover her granddads homeland.

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My mum was born in England as was I but while my mum has no issues callling herslef english, it is not a term that I would use. I will however use British and do. Having said that I am very english as this is the enviroment in which I grew up. I want my Heinz Beans, Tottenham cake and chips with tomatoes sauce, mind you I could do without the weather.

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I spent my younger years trying to escape England, but as I aged I slowly started to relise that I should not allow my experince of my birth country to be shaped by the horrible words thrown at me by those who really don't matter. Now I am getting to know England beyond just London, and I have to say that while there is still hate (in lots of forms, sexism, classism). I choose to enjoy the good, acknowledge the bad and fight the ugly. 

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My dad's world was my world and I was happy and safe therein. My dad was not a big talker so he never filled the air with stories of his life, but his everyday presence alongside all the uncles, aunts and cousins made up all my family celebrations memories.  My dad and Dominica gave me a location on Earth that as a child I could feel a part of. 

My mum was the number one factor in shaping my identity. She was very clear on my value as a human and taught me all the black history she knew. She was my first hero, my very own Boudicca, ready to fight in my corner whenever the going got tough with the haters. My mum was my barrier from an at times hostile world. 

 My dad travelled from the Commonwealth of Dominica to England via Italy on a ship with this suitcase, which many West Indian islands call a "Grip". 

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From the ship he travelled to the District Line and to family by the name of Fontain to Whitechapel station. 

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This small brown suitcase was then kept on top of my dad's wardrobe for the rest of his life in England. It kept all his important documents and would be opened whenever an important piece of paper was needed. 

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I was always drawn to the suitcase, as for me it was a reminder of Dominica and held the excitement of travel to new lands. I think my dad's move to another country made me believe I could do the same and I moved to the West Indies (Barbados) with my partner and young family for one year. When the year had finished I planned to travel the world, write and home school my children.

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My dad has sadly died but his suitcase lives on and has found new expressions via my daughter and her radio serious called: Windrush: The Girl and the Suitcase.

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Adana's suitcase is full of things that her grandfather owned. Every time she opens the suitcase a new story unfolds. You can listen to all ten episodes of The Girl and the Suitcase at:

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www.funkidslive.com/learn/windrush/windrush-the-girl-and-the-suitcase/

My mum travelled around with her grandmother, who lived in a Roma caravan which meant she didn't always go to school or was constantly swapping to a new school. In total my mum went to almost 30 schools.

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She often slept under the stars after nights around the outdoor fire. My mum said that girls/women would normally sleep in the wagon at night, with the men/boys outside. My mum can still speak some of the old Roma words. At a certain point my mum moved to her mother's house and then ran away to London around the age of 16.

My mum's dad was from an Irish travelling community and I think that I must have taken my love of adventure from my mum's double injection of families that travel. I signed up to go on a three week cultural trip when I was 16 years old. I then took my little sister to Denmark and my children, then both under 5 to Sweden. I had planned to travel the world, write and home school my children.

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I didn't eat much as a child but I always had time for snacks West Indian style. There was always lots of food at family gatherings and plantain was always my favourite, but the real West Indian question is is it pronounced planTIN or planTAYN?

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Every Saturday I would get £1 pocket money. That was enough to buy a magazine, a bag of crisps, a chocolate bar and the rest on penny sweets. The pop man also came on Saturday which meant cheap bottle of the fizzy stuff, but the real UK snack question is are Jaffa Cakes bakes or biscuits?

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02 May 2024

4pm - 8pm

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Today is the day of the end of term show. I am looking forward to seeing every ones final idea come to life as well as seeing the final look of my idea.

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Britain currently has around 3.0% (1.7 million) people who class themselves as "Mixed or Multiple ethnic groups" according to www.ons.gov.uk

I was raised with my white mum (English with Celtic & Roma heritage) and my black dad  (Dominican with Nigerian & Kenyan heritage). My childhood was full of family gatherings with my dad's Dominican family as lots of cousins had moved here. I only remember meeting my mum's family once. During a week-long holiday up North to stay with them, I recall feeling absolutely miserable, as everything felt so foreign and I was not comfortable being around white people as my experience with white people up to that point had been negative. I was happy to return to London and all my friends. My best friends were also mixed raced and they were a safe space where I could be a human because our skin tones was not the focus of our playtime.

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Every human has their own journey, even when two children are raised in the same house by the same two parents they can have very different experience, so being biracial does not in and of itself

mean we are confusion. Which is sadly what many people believe. From the experience of myself, my mixed friends, family and those I have witness, if you raised your mixed child to know themselves via the foreign parents culture, they will naturally have the blank spaces filled in by the country in which they live. 

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 I look forward to reading Biracial Britain during the summer holidays.