GEORGIA, 20, CURLY HAIR

Last week, I was forced to reflect on my identity and who I am – two things which had always been somewhat separate. I was forced to uncover how I really feel about my mixed-race heritage; spoiler – I feel great, and you should too.

Being mixed-race was a huge part of who I was growing up, especially through school in the southwest of England. As a child, I’d ask why other kids’ hair didn’t dry out in the sun like mine and why their skin didn’t tan as easily. These physical differences were drummed into in my brain. I learnt that to be mixed-race was to be different. Being so young, I was cool with it, but it’s when I got older that I started to feel “other.”

Last Thursday, I had a lecture regarding identity, performance and culture. Sitting there, listening to a white professor half-heartedly read off a screen about the history of racism brought back some sort of repressed trauma and I caught myself listening out for the mumbling and sneering from the back of the class. It was muscle memory.

This was something so normal back in secondary school where racist ignorance was rife and the very few other non-white classmates seemed so ashamed to even stand up for themselves – I remember thinking where was their pride? It’s no exaggeration that everyday I’d have to stand up for the black in me, relentlessly confronting racist behaviour, comments, and blatant crimes that affected me all the same even when not directed at me – it never got easier, my heart would pound, but I became tougher.

Now, in my 20s, after experiencing much more than school life in Devon, the realisation that I hadn’t thought about being “different” until that lecture left me feeling guilty at my own ignorance, as if I had forgotten all the fights I had fought.

But I don’t think my ignorance was ever ignorance at all – it was peace. I had searched meticulously for a diverse university close to London and I had since been reaping the benefits of that. My differences were never “differences” after all; they make up who I am in this world, which has never been just one thing – and I am so proud.

Recently, between friends, I had come up in conversation and was described kindly as “Georgia – curly hair,” which was my first insight into how I’m perceived. And it shocked me because it wasn’t a feature I would’ve considered particularly distinguishable about myself. But of course, it was. It was me; my curly, curly hair. Before, when asked about my identity I’d say mixed race, but when asked who I am I’d say Georgia.

“Georgia – curly hair” was a reminder that I am both, always, eternally. Thus, find pride within all the parts that make up who you are, big and small, likes and dislikes, it is all vital to understanding yourself. I am so many things and I am ever so proud to be Georgia, 20, curly hair.

My differences were never “differences” after all; they make up who I am in this world which has never been just one thing – and I am so proud.