But Where Are You Really From?

Part of our But Where Are You Really From? season.

London, 1982. I am five years old. A mixed-race only child in a single-parent family from a council estate in pre-gentrification Peckham. My understanding of what it means to be British is limited to patriotic cliches and caricatures. The Second World War ended more than three decades ago, yet for the dads and grandads and the boys waging war with plastic toy soldiers, victory over the Nazis still demonstrates how great Britain is. The cries of ‘Two world wars and one World Cup’ ring hollow to my young ears. Margaret Thatcher, mass unemployment and the miners’ strike are to define my childhood more than past glories won in honour of the British Empire. Great Britain is a mythical place that exists only in history books and old films. 

Dispossession, 2017 (Velvet Joy Productions)

I experience racism for the first time that summer during the school holidays. Marcus, an older boy at my child minder’s house types the word ‘CHINK’ on the rubber keys of his ZX Spectrum computer, which then – as if by magic – appears dozens of times on the monitor screen. I will never forget that moment. It will come to define much of my childhoood. The howls of laughter from the other kids. My impotent rage and burning shame as I run to the toilet, wounded and embarrassed, refusing to let them see my tears. I will remember the childminder’s indifference and the white-washing when my mum arrives to collect me: ‘He got a bit upset. It was only a joke. You know what kids are like.’ 

From now on racism is a regular occurrence in my life. Sometimes it’s directed spitefully and designed to injure me. Other times it happens in jest and as ‘banter’. It always hurts. The insults are mostly verbal. The abuse is sometimes physical. On one occasion, my assailant smashes a chair over my head, which requires a visit to the hospital for a few stitches. Whichever way it comes, the impact is always violent. The bruises heal, but the mental scars always remain.

Growing up bi-racial and working class during the 1980s in Britain is horrendous for me. The few happy memories I have stick in my memory like postcards pinned on a board. I struggle with my identity and find it difficult to accept my ethnicity. I don’t fit in with the White kids at school, and the other groups of non-White kids seem to bond together over a shared heritage that excludes a half-White /half-Chinese kid like me. Like most children, I crave a sense of belonging. I decide that means being White. It doesn’t work; I am still seen as other, as yellow – a chink and a ching-chong Chinaman.

Poly Styrene: I Am a Cliché (Modern Film)

Mum encourages me to be proud of being mixed race and is active in her attempts to introduce me to Chinese culture. It isn’t easy for her – she left my dad when I was two and I see him once a week, on a Sunday. His lifestyle is alien to me. I despise the long walks in the countryside and the strange, spicy food he forces me to eat afterwards. I resent the strict discipline and his insistence that I obey a set of rules that contradict many of the values mum instilled in me. To hell with being Chinese. As far as I am concerned, I am English. I like English food, I wear an England football kit and even try to join in when other kids are racist towards non-White kids. But, still, I am not accepted. To the White kids, I am a half-breed, a mongrel – not as pure as them. There isn’t a single person of east or south-east Asian descent in my primary school. I stand out, despite my intense efforts to blend in.

Mum continues to do her best to help me accept who I am. She never gives up. She tells me that my Chinese middle name means ‘golden hero’ and that being mixed race makes me special. One day, with the help of a Chinese astrology book, she tells me I am born in the year of the dragon, in the hours of the dragon, and that my elemental sign is fire. A rare and lucky combination, apparently. She tells me about Bruce Lee and we watch Enter the Dragon together. He becomes my hero and I learn Wing Chun kung fu to defend myself against the bullies. 

When I arrive at secondary school, there are other kids who look like me. Not many, but enough for me to be less alone. There is a wider range of ethnicities and more cohesion between the different groups of non-White kids. As the 80s five way to the 90s, a change is coming. And over time, the racist abuse here will feel different, less threatening. I am accepted as part of the gang by the White kids, though I’m never quite one of them.

I am still an outsider. But I’m beginning to accept who I am.

Credit: Alicia Bruce

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Britain, 2022.  The question that gives this piece its title, But where are you really from? never went away. As we attempt to comprehend and navigate the long term impacts of Covid-19, the polarisation in our society exposed by Brexit, Black Lives Matter and rising levels of race hate crimes continue to divide us. While politicians across the political spectrum struggle to agree on how to address each of these issues, sections of the media frequently present one dimensional narratives around both immigrants and what it means to be British, which serves to deepen hostilities in an already divided nation. The ubiquitous presence of social media can amplify opinions that view society through a prism of Them and Us, which is less concerned with who and what we are than with who, or what we are not. 

Credit: Chris McCluskie

Yet while it may seem like our society has gone backwards in recent times, through my work as a documentary filmmaker I frequently meet people who reflect our disparate and multicultural society, and tell us that acceptance and respect are values to strive for over ‘tolerance’ (why should we be tolerated?). Experiencing racial abuse, both as a child and as an adult, has undoubtedly influenced the type of films I make, which are designed to amplify unheard voices and challenge prejudices. As an outsider, I am drawn to stories about people who exist within the margins and challenge the status quo, whether that’s housing activists fighting for their homes in Dispossession, homeless dog owners in Year of the Dog, or inspirational women like the subject of Poly Styrene: I Am a Cliché. Divisions within society are often created through ignorance and fear, but British culture is enriched due to the diversity of ethnicity and nationality in our communities. That’s the Britain I’m really from.

Paul Sng

Twitter: @paulsng

Instagram: @paulsng1

This piece is a part of our But Where Are You Really From? season, made possible thanks to the BFI Audience Fund awarding funding from the National Lottery.