Dear White Supremacists.

Dear White Supremacists,

My skin is white. Well that is what it would be defined as. In reality, it is this pale pink tone which shows scars easily and can burn within ten minutes in the sun.

My brothers are defined as white too. Despite this, I would say they are nearer a caramel colour and have a distinct tan line where there watch would lie.

Our skin colours aren’t actually very similar at all. It has always been a wonder to my Mother and I, how her skin has a yellow undertone and mine is pink. The same way, I was always mystified in Biology class when both my parents had brown hair, yet one brother and I had blonde.

You see, I never have defined myself as a skin tone, or seen it as a defining feature.

Growing up, my Mother commented that one time she couldn’t remember the name of one of my classmates, so described her as “the tall, black girl” in my class. She didn’t mean it in a racist way, just as a descriptive measure.

I had no idea who she was talking about. That girl was tall, loud, bubbly and funny; but I had never taken into consideration her skin colour.

Since then, society has forced down my throat that skin colour is something I should notice. It has forced it down in history, in culture, in geography. It has forced down my throat that skin colour is more defining than hair colour or eye colour. It has told me I should notice this about someone.

But I should not. Like I said – my family has many skin colours, yet we are all classed as white. Despite our range in tanning abilities, the different colours we suit, our ability to look good in white, despite all that, we have the same heritage.

I was reading an article the other day about Mary Beard and people of different races living in Roman times. I found it incredibly interesting and think that we should do more to educate people. I found it heart-wrenching when I read an article about the white-washing of Dunkirk, how we barely remember the lives lost and blood shed from different corners of the Earth. I hear stories from friends and stories in the news, of people being attacked because their skin colour and it makes so angry. I feel complete anger than someone is attacking someone else based on their skin colour.

So I have a message to the white supremacists who are running riot in America. The human acts which I am most of ashamed of are – the slave trade, the apartheid, human genocide and the holocaust. It is not natural to look back at these crimes and celebrate. It is not natural to think you are better than someone based on something as futile as your skin. It is not natural to cause pain, suffering or death to a fellow human being.

As a child, I didn’t see skin colour as a defining feature. Society has forced me to see it as a difference. It has forced me to group people based on only one aspect of their appearance. Even when that is not due to prejudice, it still forces me to say I am white when I go to the doctor, or hear people call music “black music” or “white basic bitches”. The thing is, it has also allowed me to see something else: injustice and wrong.

Skin colour is never going to be an easy prejudice to challenge. If you challenge skin colour, then some people think you are challenging heritage. I don’t think that I am, I think heritages should be celebrated and I enjoy learning about different cultures. If you challenge skin colour, then hurt and shame raise to the surface. But we can’t live in the past.

I pray that one day we will not let fear, prejudice and an inability to apologise rule our society. That children will not be forced to see skin colour as a defining feature. That we will not riots based on people think they are superior based on a skin colour.

After all, if you are walking because you think white is superior, then I hope you realise the only difference is you that you will get a worst sun burn. If you are walking because you think the slave trade is OK, then I hope you would be just as willing to walk if it had been your ancestors in boats and chains. If you are walking because you think the holocaust was alright, then I hope you would be just as willing to walk if your Grandfather had lost his family in a gas chamber or grew up in a concentration camp. If you are walking because you think the apartheid was justified, then would you be OK only being allowed in a worst quality school, or not being allowed on a certain bus, not based on your ability, or determination, not even based on your ability to work hard – but based on your skin colour.

Because, my dearest white supremacists, who seem to think all these things are OK. It is just damn luck that your family were on the safe side of history.

So learn to be human, learn some morals, and if you think God is on your side, pray and read the bible. Because if you have the energy and the time, to march on a peaceful town or mow a car into a group of people because you happen to have a skin colour which has faced relatively little prejudice, then you have the energy and time to protest poverty, school inequality, police shooting, gang crimes, modern slavery, sexual abuse, abortion rights, animal cruelty, climate change, mass starvation, female education – or the many problems society is actually facing right now.  

Thank you.  

PS. I think it is important to note two rather vital points. One - not all crimes above have been based totally along one-direction racial lines - there have been prejudices, attacks and injustices around the world affecting many different races - but the crimes above have been referenced in these marches and therefore find themselves in this article. Two - I do not understand the everyday life of those suffering from racial prejudice, and I don't know if I ever will. I have experienced prejudice based on gender and disabilities so while in some ways I can relate, I do not truly understand. All I can do is apologise to those experiencing it and hope that one day society will work together to overcome it. I hope my ignorance causes no offence. 

What is a role model and who should we bestow with that title?

I write a blog for a careers website and in a fit of writers block an idea hit me – role models.

It then got me thinking – who are my role models? Why are they my role models? Do they deserve to be up on a pedestal?

None of the people that I have been inspired by would class themselves as role models. They would probably bow their heads away from any crown the title may bestow. They wouldn’t want to be acknowledged for the great feats they have achieved, or the great traits they have.

They are not even all alive. Actually, perhaps more accurately, most of them are not.

One of my greatest role models received that title on the day of his funeral. My Grandfather had such modesty that he hadn’t told me of all the fantastic things he had done for his local community in his lifetime. He hadn’t told me how hard he worked for a playground to be installed or a zebra crossing. He hadn’t told me how determined he was for the greater good, as well as being the clever, loving and hard-working man I knew he was. That fact, the modesty, made me respect him even more. My greatest regret is not telling him that to his face.

My other role model was his wife. It was in fact their relationship. Their marriage was the marriage I inspire to have – the long lasting love, the true love, the forgiving love. Their ability to see and cherish each other faults, as well as their strengths. That said she was also a formidable woman in her own right. A one of a kind.

My great Uncle is another man who gave me so many life lessons and another source of wisdom I miss every day. He bestowed on me time, love and pressure to better myself every day. All that I have left of the determination, adventurous spirit and wisdom he had, are the letters and books he left me.

These three incredible humans are not the only role models I have, but they are possibly three people which I try to think like. Despite that, I look at charity workers, models, politicians and business leaders, and I am in awe of their determination or good nature. I look at people I have met over the years who have changed my life through lessons they have taught me, opinions they have made of me, or simply the choices they have made.

Which leaves me with one rather big lesson – what is a role model? Can a role model be someone we don’t actually know, or how well do we know anyone? Is anyone actually perfect enough to be considered a role model? Anyone so serving to others, determined and ambitious, intelligent or talented enough – for us to yearn to be made in their image or achieve their talents?

Or is role model actually just a great sense of respect? A respect for someone who has touched your life? Or is it a sense of ambition? To better yourself? To be more like that person? To have that part of their personality embedded in your own?

Or – should we only have one role model? God. Jesus. Because at the end of the day, the only person perfect enough to be given that title – and I am pretty sure my Grandfather would agree with me on this – is him.