Ma roots is in Barbados, so ma Mama tells me all d’time.
‘Yo was born there, Ah was born there, yo grandaddy was born there. Dat’s where yo is from.’
Funny ting is, Ah feel no connection to dat far off place at all.
We left there when Ah wasn’t even one year old, part of what dey now call de Windrush generation.
Ah’m Brixton bred. Ah lived in the same small house wi’ ma Mama and ma father, when he was around, since Ah can remember. School jus’ round the corner, de same corner where Ah hung around wi’ ma friends, the same corner where Ah put up wi’ de abuse – an’ still do even though it’s not so strange to see a black face in London anymore.
Love it or hate, dis is ma home, that’s what Ah feel in ma bones.
So why do Ah stand here lookin’ at dis government letter tellin’ me Ah can’t own ma home, Ah can’t work ma job and Ah am to be deported?
Dey damn right ’tis a hostile environment in the UK now. Hostile for anyone who don’t fit in wi’ some white ideal dat neva existed in de first place.
De tink de can pull up ma roots, but Ah isn’t goin’ nowhere.
Read more about the ‘Windrush Scandal’ here: Wikipedia
This is a response to the #writephoto Prompt – Rooted curated over at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click on the link to read other stories inspired by the image.
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