An “Oyinbo’s” Experience With Racism

The recent events across the Atlantic involving the death of George Floyd and the subsequent fallout has been something that deeply upsets me but has also forced me to analyse where I stand on this race issue. It has forced me to be honest with myself and reflect upon my personal experiences and how I have used my white privilege to help others or how I have used it to climb the capitalist ladder.

I suppose I have to start with my school years. I was very lucky to be sent to Skegness Grammar School which had a boarding facility. I left home when I was 11 years old and spent the next 5 years in the boarding school and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It would be fair to assume that this boarding school was predominantly white but the truth is white students were in the minority and the majority was split evenly between Nigerian (some international students, some second generation) and Chinese students. I immediately found myself forming a bond with the Nigerian cohort of the boarding house and I never looked back. I am richer for their friendship and learned a great deal about Nigerian culture and what it means to be black in Britain. Some of these friendships faded away as we got older and left Skegness, but some remained and one has stood the test of time - if you listen to the podcast you may be familiar with my good friend Michael Akuagwu. I was welcomed into their community and got to visit some of them in their homes, I was their “oyinbo” little brother. I was proud of that title because it felt like I had earned it in some way. I ate their egusi soup, jollof rice (my favourite), pounded yam and beloved indomie noodles. They taught me the Kingdom Skank amongst many other dances and they taught me some Nigerian slang and how to kiss my teeth. However, the bond that we share was forged from the hardship that I saw them endure because they were black students in Lincolnshire. A county known for its rurality and lack of cultural diversity.

I saw them work harder than most other students because if they didn’t they were dismissed as lazy - excellence was the only option. I saw the local youth in Wainfleet shout abuse at them as we would walk to the local Co-op to get snacks. I saw them exercise ungodly patience when their peers asked them about their background and “where are you really from though?” if they said they were from London. But, there are 4 main incidents that I either saw or shared first hand that left an indelible mark on me and showed me unequivocally that racism is live and kicking in the U.K and Europe, no matter how nuanced it may first appear.

The first of which is as follows. When you enter a boarding school your are at the mercy of the older students. Once you are sent to bed and the teachers are gone it’s survival of the fittest. If they take a shining to you then count your lucky stars, most are not that fortunate. I was called “Pudding” for being chubby and would routinely get pinned down whilst they chest tapped me, petrol pumped my arms or some other form of physical abuse. I wasn’t alone, this was the fate that awaited almost all the younger year groups and it was just part of the culture. However, one day the dreaded group of year 11s really overstepped the mark when they picked on Michael and myself. I got the usual treatment but they decided Michael deserved something more. So, they pushed him into a wardrobe and emptied a few cans of deodorant through a slit in the wardrobe doors. In effect, gassing Michael out. When they decided he had had enough they let Michael out and when he asked why they simply replied “because you’re black”. We never told the boarding master. What was the point? It would only lead to more bullying once the lights went out.

The second example comes at the hands of the Lincolnshire police. We were on our way to school and had to make our usual morning commute from the Boarding house to Wainfleet train station. The train master had it in for us “boarders” because we were seen as the rich elite by the locals (they didn’t know that many of our parents got themselves into debt to try to give us a good education). It just so happened that the train master’s daughter had been expelled from Skegness Grammar School earlier that year. That morning she decided to close the train gates 10 minutes early so we would all miss the train and be late to school, but as she started closing the gates my friends, Segun and Dolapo and I raced to the gates and held them open so the other students could get onto the platform. In doing so, we damaged the magnetic function of the gate. The police came to visit the school later on that week and we told them it was us who had held the gate open. We didn’t receive a fine, instead we were told this was going on our records for the rest of our lives. A criminal record for holding a gate open to let school kids get onto a platform…extreme I know! The only reason Segun, Dolapo or I haven’t got a criminal record is because my mum, who luckily for us is solicitor, argued that this overzealous punishment was a clear show of racism and an attempt to make an example out of us. They agreed to lower the sentence and we received a reprimand that would be wiped from the system once we turned 18.

The third incident is in some ways the most damning of them all. I left Skegness Grammar after completing my GCSEs and joined Carre’s Grammar School in 2012 to do my A-Levels. I didn’t know anybody at the school but within the first few days I had a conversation that I will not forget for as long as I live. A girl came up to me and asked me if I get in trouble a lot. It was an odd question to come out with from the blue so I said no and asked why. Her response was “well we’ve seen your Facebook and you have a lot of black friends don’t you?” I was gobsmacked. For context, there weren’t any black students in my year and I think there was 1 mixed race student in the whole school, if I am not mistaken. I told her that having black friends isn’t indicative of being a law-abiding citizen or not but the question alone showed how white people (especially those who have no or little exposure to black people) can have their minds sullied with stories they see in the media or in films. More shocking still, this girl wanted to become a police officer and move to London. Thankfully she changed her mind later on and took a different path and I’m sure she has changed her view on race as she has grown older. What struck me, however, was that my affiliation to black people clearly altered people’s opinions of me without even knowing me. I can only imagine what the reaction would have been if I were actually black. If I suffered a very very mild form of prejudice merely because of my friendships with black people you can only begin to imagine what it must be like to suffer prejudice every single day simply for the colour of your skin.

The last incident is a Spanish affair. I had started at my new job in Madrid after finishing university in the U.K. After a couple of months I began to hear the “N” word being thrown around the office. It was done in a jokey fashion because, in my experience, Spanish people often think that using English/Americanisms is cool. For example, someone would ask for a report to be sent over and they would reply “ok my n****” in an American accent. Luckily, there were no black people in the office but it still made my skin crawl. I knew these were good people and that black people don’t have much of a presence in Spain and as a result were not really integrated into society, but that is no excuse. I explained that the “N” word is incredibly offensive and they should never say it. They told me it meant “macho” or “mate” in Spanish, a clear sign of their ignorance to the history of the word. I, therefore, began to explain the history and why it is such a derogatory word but I could see they weren’t convinced. I had to give them an example they were familiar with so I asked them if they would ever say “tira flechas” or “sudaca” when referring to a South American (these are slang words in Spanish, the first meaning “arrow thrower” and the second just being a generally offensive term used to refer to South Americans). They reassuringly told me that of course they would never use such language to which I replied that the “N” word is far more offensive because of its history. Only then did the penny drop. It was a simple case of ignorance and thankfully I had the cultural knowledge both from the U.K. and Spain to be able to teach them why they were unwillingly being very offensive. Suffice to say, the “N” word was never again used in the office.

These stories from my life show that whilst racism may not be as apparent as it seems to be in the U.S, we still have a long way to go in our own society and people in glass houses…

I am proud to have met and lived with my Nigerian housemates because they made me more aware and sensitive to the racial divide that still exists in modern society, they taught me that difference is strength and they welcomed me with open arms into their culture from day one. I am very fortunate to have had these formative experiences when I was young so I didn’t have to unlearn negative racial stereotypes or sentiments, but for those who didn’t have the same opportunities there is hope. For any behaviour that is learned can be unlearned and racism is learned through harmful rhetorics, ideologies and plain ignorance. I hope that one day we can all be treated like equals and judged on our individual merits as humans and not the levels of melanin in our skin. However, for that to happen I understand that white people need to have difficult conversations and address conscious or subconscious prejudices we may have and speak out when we see racism at play. As Angela Davis says, “in a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti racist” and make no mistake, we live in a racist society.

By Seb Siracusa