Decolonising my mind

‘What is your origin story?’ This is a question that I so often find myself being asked, and that leaves an air of discomfort in its wake: a lingering silence as I try to work out what I am actually being asked.

Are they asking me where I am from? If so, the answer is simple enough: I grew up in London in the 1990s. Sandwiched between two very different generations and two very different cultures, I am both Grenadian and Nigerian, or AfroCaribbean as I would like to identify. And yet the only option available for me to tick on forms is Black British (Other). The word ‘other’ resonates deeply with me. Once a word I resisted, I came to realise that there was beauty in being an ‘other’, one who proudly sits at the intersection of three interlinking marginalised identities: a black activist, artist and chemist. I am reminded of the words of Audre Lorde: ‘It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences’.

Now, at the age of 25, I have found my community. A space that is comfortable, nurturing and allows me to flourish. But if you had told me 10 years ago that I was good enough to do a PhD, or that I would be the CEO of my own organisation, I would have done a Viola Davis shake of my head in pure disbelief and walked away.