What is it like growing up as an ethnic minority?

The presence of ethnic minorities, although always present, has been on the rise, with 55% of the Lawrence Hill population belonging to a BAME group by 2011.

In Britain, it can be said one of the most effective tools in bridging the gap between the ignorant and minorities is understanding.

Bristol24/7 has spoken to five people of ethnic minorities in Bristol about their experiences growing up – and asked them what their advice would be to the BAME young people of today.

Hardeep Konsol, head of year 11 at City Academy, says it was “tough” growing up in a white-majority area. Photo by Hardeep Konsol

Hardeep Konsol, head of year 11 of City Academy, reflects on the dissonance of being a minority in a white-majority area.

“Growing up in a predominantly white area, with all but three other Asian families, Bristol was tough, to say the least,” he says.

At school, Hardeep felt like he had to hide his identity: “I felt uncomfortable when students would ask about my mum’s name, I didn’t talk about Asian foods and music concerts I went to and loved.

“There was no representation, no inclusivity when it came to Black or Asian teachers either.” This statement echoes into today’s academic field. In 2019, it’s recorded that 86% of teachers in state-funded schools were white British.

“It meant that I didn’t have a platform to voice my feelings, to have discussions, to challenge injustices,” Hardeep continues. “This is one of the many reasons why I began working in education: to allow young people to have the voice I never did.”

He says that BAME young people today need to have uncomfortable conversations: “Encourage, support each other and challenge other people on their ignorance: your teachers, friends, parents.”

Rahul Patel is a science teacher at City Academy, but says his school experience growing up was full of anti-Asian rhetoric. Photo by Ellie Pipe

For Rahul Patel, a science teacher at City Academy who grew up in west London, his school experience was supplied with anti-Asian rhetoric.

“Hearing racially charged songs being sung in my primary school playground in the late 80s was normal,” he says. “There was a discomfort, but without the burning rage I would feel today.

“By the mid-90s in secondary school, fuelled by toxic masculinity, some of my teachers became the main perpetrators of hate.”

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Growing up, Rahul hoped to be removed from the spotlight of humiliation, saying it was a “lonely, no-win situation”.

“Outside of school you were dubbed a ‘freshie’ for being too Indian or a ‘coconut’ for being too British,” he explains. “I didn’t want to appear ‘different’ and hated that I was. One’s own identity was always under the microscope.”

His advice to BAME young people growing up today, however, is to be proud of their cultural identity.

“Don’t bow down to negative stereotypes from society and from within your own community,” he says. “Find your own comfortable normal and follow your own dreams.”

Amaal Ali, a project worker for Integrate UK, grew up in Barton Hill, which she says was “different” years ago. Photo by Ellie Pipe

Amaal Ali is a charity worker who grew up in Barton Hill, which she says was “different” years ago.

“I vividly remember my mum’s car getting graffitted with slurs and anti-immigrant rhetoric – every single week,” she recalls. “I remember her telling us to not worry about the mean words written on her car. After a good clean, she’d drive us to school like nothing ever happened.”

However, Amaal adds that making friends with people from walking through Stokes Croft and playing in Barton Hill Urban Park helped make her childhood a more positive one.

Now, she is a project worker for grassroots, youth-led charity Integrate UK. Based in Bristol, it creates educational resources for issues such as racism, islamophobia and sexism.

“I work with young people in diverse and not-so-diverse places in the city,” Amaal adds. “They, like most humans, had misinformed opinions about each other but with holistic conversation and teamwork, we could change these opinions for the better.”

Her advice to young BAME people is to keep connected with others, and to keep being themselves.

Though she feels Bristol is now a diverse city, she feels it is also still divided: “Even in 2021, there are places in Bristol where I feel I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Mena Fombo learned to turn her anger and frustration into activism and action after a visit to the Kuumba Centre in St Paul’s. Photo by Angela Dennis

Mena Fombo, who is a co-founder of black-owned television production company Blak Wave, says she had been taught to stick up for herself from a young age.

“Going to a ‘white’ school, being the only black girl, with ten other students of an ethnic minority out of about 800 students, I had a fair few fights,” Mena admits. “If I’d heard someone had been racist, I would ‘beat’ that person up.”

At 14-years-old,  she got into a more serious incident and was suspended.

“When asked by teachers why I didn’t tell them about racism, I explained that I’d lost any faith in teachers doing anything about racism,” she adds. “I don’t recall the school taking any action against the racists – ever!”

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Mena says she eventually had one teacher, though, who understood her: “She asked me who I admired – it was Black Panthers, Martin Luther King, Malcom X and learning about the student uprising in Soweto.

“She said they were all activists – that if I really wanted to stop racism, I could also become an activist. There were other ways to fight.”

This teacher drove Mena to the Kuumba Centre in St Paul’s and introduced her to community organisers. She says this was a “gamer changer” for her and the beginning of her journey of understanding activism and action better.

Mena’s advice to young BAME people, meanwhile, is to be their authentic selves: “Find great friends who accept you for who you are. Talk to people and ask for help when you need it.”

16-year-old Hemalata says that her Nepali heritage clashes with the British culture she has been brought up in. Photo by Hemalata

Hemalata, a 16-year-old student at Montpelier High School, formerly Colston’s Girls’ School, details the spirituality of minority experience.

“My relationship in terms of pride towards my heritage has had its ups and downs”, she says.

“Even as a child, it was impossible to not notice the difference of my internal Nepali identity and the outside white, British culture.”

Despite the conflict, Hemalata makes it known that her culture is what brings her light in hard times.

She adds: “Whether it be asking my parents about their lives in their childhood villages, watching Nepali cartoons or my personal, distinctive relationship with God, the universe and spirituality – I’ve tried to associate it with the best in my life.”

For Hemalata, she thinks that pushing away her culture – something which brings her an almost childish delight – only harms her in the end.

“It is hard,” she admits. “The dull strains of everyday life, the chores, duties and responsibilities, homework, school – they pick at me sometimes and keeping up with embracing my culture is forced to take a backseat.”

These five stories, although uniquely their own, are echoes of those before and after them. Their prevailing success in charities, schools, and, mostly importantly, themselves, can be seen to be a testament to the strength of ehtnic minorities in Bristol and the UK.

It also perhaps reveals a darker picture about the minority experience – one of silenced rage and classroom discrimnation. We need change, some might say – and that can start with hearing these stories.

Main photo by by Bristol City Council/Hardeep Konsol/Hemalata 

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