The Racism debate

I've been watching the Raheem Sterling story unfold over the last few days, listening to what friends have to say, reading posts on social media.

It's an interesting situation without a doubt, and one that as a brown boy growing up in a white family I have first hand experience of. I'm not saying what's right or wrong but providing a perspective from a person who isn't a multi millionaire young footballer, but has experienced some similar struggles.

To give a brief background - I'm of mixed origin, half Indian and that's fairly obvious. I was adopted from birth into a fantastic loving family, who are white. Obviously there's no problem with that whatsoever, but I'm trying to convey how white people are treated differently. Experience number 1, I came home from primary school aged 6 and asked my mum what a n**ger was, as I'd been called it at school that day. 'Ask your father when he gets home'....... My dad's answer was that it was a stupid word for someone who isn't very popular. The kid who called it me probably didn't know either.

As I got older it got worse. Loud comments on the school bus such as 'It stinks of dog shit on here, must be that paki'. Hilarious. At this point I was about ten years old. My white pals would tell me to ignore these regular taunts from the older kids. I'd hold back the tears until I got home, then rush to my bedroom because I didn't want to tell my folks.

Big brother to the rescue. He became aware and the main culprit was dealt with. However, at the time that this situation was resolved, the culprit still didn't believe that this person with the same surname was my brother. Still, the word got around that I was actually from a white family and all this behaviour almost ceased, and in fact many of these kids made attempts to befriend me when they realised I had this cool, older brother. Perception versus reality. Combined with absolute stupidity and a need to show off.

It continued a bit more throughout school, especially when Nick (big brother) left, but by that stage I was becoming quite capable of fighting my own battles.

Then I left the sanctuary and safety of the school environment and went out into the big bad world of work and adult life. At this point Nick was back home and we were working together, doing quite well. And the negative behaviour began again. At this point I'd pretty much learnt to turn a blind eye. On one occasion in a club me and Nick were talking to a couple of young ladies, drinking champagne as was our want, but minding our own business. Some guy came over, tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and he said, comically 'Oi, we were talking to them you paki bastard', then treated me to a right hook. I don't know why he'd assault me and taunt me with abuse about my skin colour? He could have picked on Nick? Anyway, the girls were evidently impressed by this display of alpha male heroism, we left the champagne and departed.

As I've got older it barely happens now. People say stuff unwittingly which doesn't bother me in the slightest - stuff like 'So where are you from then?' That's no biggy, but it happened not so long ago when I was in a business meeting. Afterwards my colleague asked - 'Why didn't they ask me that? Doesn't it piss you off?' Nah not really, to me that's an innocent question based on curiosity, although to him it was more.

Anyhow, just a few examples, there are plenty more but all with a similar undertone.

I think Raheem has done a great job, he responded at the time with a smile and made a very good point about how people can be perceived to be treated differently due to colour. I agree, because I've lived it. You can form your own opinion.

I'll just leave this picture here from 1988, which hopefully shows how things have improved and continue to do so.

The Mind of a Man - Part 2

Given the amount of people who read my previous blog, I though it would be a good idea to provide an update on the situation 6 months down the line.

Well, I can honestly say I've never felt better. Seriously. Which leads me to think that this depressed state of mind has existed for a long, long time. Probably 10 years plus.

The interesting thing for me is that 9 or 10 months ago I didn't believe that this level of happiness and stability could ever be achieved. And that I'd spend the rest of my life putting on a brave face and secretly dying inside. It's just not the case - knowing that there actually is light at the end of the tunnel has changed my total outlook on life and the issues that I am dealing with.

So the conclusion is simple - if you're not feeling great then tell someone. Tell me if you want - because it can get better.

It's OK not to be OK.

The Mind of a Man

                          The mind of a man.

Straight forward isn’t it? You kill an animal, drag it home, skin and gut it, then give it to the woman to prepare a lovely meal.

That’s what blokes do – provide. Safety, shelter, security, protection. Nothing stops them, nothing phases them, they take on anyone and anything.

No. In recent years there’s been some startling revelations about men’s mental health. Prince Harry, Simon Thomas, have made some fantastic public views about their journeys. But I’m not 5^th in line to the throne, or on Sky Sports. I’m just a bloke, struggling to deal with shit. And that’s an admission, I struggle to deal with shit. But that’s a new sensation, it’s never happened before.

Sitting on the end of my bed, shaking and crying uncontrollably. Alone, wondering how the fuck it came to this. Not even wanting to feel this way, but strangely not being able to change that feeling. 

It’s mental, literally.

How did it get to this? Years of heartache, one thing and another, and telling nobody, keeping it stored up there, assuming it might one day miraculously go away. Because that’s what men do, right? Don’t worry anyone else with your problems, they’re just that. Your problems, nobody else’s. You own them, you deal with it.

Wrong. It’s an old saying ‘A problem shared is a problem halved’ or something like that. When my girlfriend escorted me to see a doctor, it was a weight lifted from my shoulders. The doctor was amazing. ‘It’s ok not to be ok’ he said. A phrase I repeat to myself regularly.

So, I spent a year visiting my GP on a regular basis, adamant I wasn’t going to take medication. I knew I could deal with this, I’m a man after all. But I couldn’t. I found myself shaking, crying, without a clue about what was going on.

What did I do? I sent out a text to really close mates, as best as I could whilst shaking and crying, asking for a call. And they called. And I told them. And they listened. And they understood. And my girlfriend understands too. She knows I’m still that man, who provides and protects, but who also has a sensitive side.

I’m almost out of it now, I think. But were it not for the admission and the request for help, the support of people around me, I dread to think where this may have ended up.

It’s ok not to be ok.