Growing up I hated getting tanned. I wore a wetsuit all summer and piled layers of sunblock on top of one another to try stop myself getting too dark. I sat there jealous of all my friends with their blonde hair and fair skin while I sat there with black hair, the beginnings of a moustache and skin that wouldn’t stop getting darker. Even my cousins - who have the same amount of Indian blood, are much more fair with hazel eyes and lighter features.
I was crushed by it.
I lived in Fiji for 2 months but felt even more conflicted there than in Auckland, as I was laughed at by relatives because I couldn’t speak Hindi.
I never knew where I stood. Every time a survey came round I dreaded the “tick one box'“ question. Do I tick European? English? Kiwi? Scottish? Pakeha? Indian?
I cringed every time I heard “so where are you from,” as it so often went:
“Where are you from?”
“Auckland”
“No, like where are you FROM?”
“I was born in Tauranga”
“No, like your parents”
“They were both born in Auckland”
“What about your Grandparents?”
”Three are Scottish/English/Kiwi with blue eyes like my Dad; and one grandparent is full Indian from Fiji. Mum is half Indian so I’m a quarter”
It often made me feel like I didn’t belong in the country I was born in or the country my parents and grandparents were born in. When Dad used to pick me up from school a few kids wondered who he was, not realising it was my Dad.
It’s hard growing up half-caste in a black and white world. I’ve been called a mongrel by a random lady at a shopping centre and been so upset by racist comments from people - even friends, who didn’t know my family background.
One night at church I felt sick, so I sat out the back for a bit. I sat on a couch in the foyer, directly between the European service in the auditorium and the Indian service in the chapel. As the services started the doors to both rooms were closed. I couldn’t help but laugh about the position I was in. It was a metaphor for my life - the doors to both sides were shut, as I sat stuck half way between. Too dark for the European’s and too light for the Indian’s.
Years ago I was waiting on MRI results from an injury and it finally hit me. The neurosurgeon wrote on his findings “I cannot seem to place Sarah into a box.” That was it. That was the answer. Although he was referring to a completely unrelated topic, it was that one little line that sparked something. I finally realised. I will never fit into the box because I wasn’t made for one. There are some things that just aren’t supposed to be one or the other. I suddenly felt so much freedom. I could spend my time being miserable and feeling left out or I could stop trying to fit in and just live.
In the words of a woman who knows this all too well; “so you make a choice: continue living your life feeling muddled in this abyss of self-misunderstanding, or you find your identity independent of it. You push for colour-blind casting, you draw your own box” - Meghan Markle.
We will never fit perfectly into a box, so stop expecting to. The moment I realised this my self-esteem grew like crazy because I began to stop comparing myself so intensely to others. I began to live in the confidence and freedom that I don’t have to be one or the other but can step out every day and draw from both sides of my racial background. Assured that although the pages of my family history are smeared with racism, poisonings, death threats and curses; they have been rendered powerless by rich blessings, love and grace.
We’ve been trying to squash people into boxes for centuries and when we use boxes or labels to judge others, we end up doing the same to ourselves. An unending oppressive spiral, where everybody is left wounded. Where people are more deflated and meek than ever. We were never meant to live suppressed by these boxes.
I wonder, if we take the first step and stop labelling ourselves, how much easier will it be to stop labelling others? I encourage you to take the first step and give yourself the grace you deserve, before taking the second and third and demonstrating it to others.
Martin Luther King Jr’s words are echoed once more, when will the time come when we aren’t known by our race but by our hearts and character?
