a letter from your mixed-race student - Carli Green
“a letter from your mixed race student” is an autobiographical piece by Carli Green, an actor + writer living and working in London.
If you want to see more of Carli, you can connect with him on twitter, on instagram or have a read of his blog.
dear Mrs Milligan
you are Swazi. i didn’t know this at the time you taught me. back in my reception years. all i can remember about you is your kindness. i couldn’t even tell you specific acts; just kindness. i didn’t think that was possible from a human being i didn’t know. and that was all i saw when i first met you… another human being. it didn’t matter that you were the same brown as me, i didn’t know what a different race was. we were both just people.
when i was younger there was a very small number of people around me that were my colour. in fact, now that i think about it, that number is actually only one. Gabriel (or Gabz as he came to be known) was way darker than me. Sona was more yellow. Alisha had already learnt to pass. and the rest of the class had that pasty colour i think we’ve all come to internalise to some degree.
but then there was you. the authority figure. a strong woman who knew how to epitomise kindness. my teacher. the feeling your classroom gave me still lingers in my memory.
it wasn’t until years later that my mother brought you up in conversation. gazing at a class photo, she asked me what your name was (don’t be offended – my mother remembers the faces and i remember the names… together we’re like a human Facebook duo). she mentioned to me that you were a lovely Swazi woman and i was confounded. how did i not know that you were Swazi? it hadn’t even occurred to me that you, a fellow caramelskinned human, might have ancestors from a different part of the world than i. all brown people were born in England, right? England isn’t ours but we were born here. this might not be our ‘home’ but we don’t have one really. we grew up in the in-between lands.
you see somewhere between Jamaica and England lies me. i didn’t feel like i belonged in either (although i had learnt to blend in pretty well). i’ve learnt that in England being catcalled is uncomfortable for women and frowned upon, yet still i said nothing to my Jamaican friends as they got as much as they gave from the women they tried to harass. i’ve learnt that in England, being called a choc-ice is a joke and should be taken just as light heartedly as being told that i’m too white in Jamaica. i’ve learnt that meeting racism with anger is never the right way to tackle it.
you didn’t teach me these lessons Mrs Milligan. my years did. but somehow i know that you had a hand.
see my mother thinks you’re lovely because you fought a battle on my behalf. i was in the playground one day and another boy was flashing his brand new watch to all the other kids. i was intrigued so i ran over to have a look only to be met with the words…
“you can’t look. you’re black!”
pretty sound logic for a racist if you ask me. but we were 5 years old. i didn’t know that – i’m pretty sure he didn’t know that either. but i remember the feeling. exclusion. rejection. discrimination. the feeling of not knowing what was wrong with me has stuck around a long time, Mrs Milligan.
i ran home and told my mother that day. she came into school to tell you the next. and you fought for me. mum tells me that you spoke to his parents – and considering they’re probably the ones he learnt this racism from, that must have taken some courage. i didn’t encounter anyone else being that overt in their discrimination for the rest of my education (thank god) and that meant i never had to try and fight a battle on my own. not until recent years… when i’ve started to try and put this giant race puzzle together in my head.
i don’t know where in the world you are right now. and i’m almost certain you will never read this. but i want to thank you for helping me learn that what happened that day was wrong. for making consequences for a potential racist. for trying to better the world, one kid at a time. thank you for being who you are. you’ve left me feeling warm and hopeful about the world. although i don’t want to be a teacher like you, i do want to educate. you definitely had a hand in that.
with warmth,
from your mixed-race student,
Carli