Diana Evans: “I think of race as a disease, a kind of an infection”
The author on London, the normality of childhood and banal mixed-race stereotypes
Hi, welcome back to Mixed Messages! This week I’m speaking to author Diana Evans, who is of mixed Nigerian, Welsh and English heritage. Diana is the author of 26a, The Wonder, Ordinary People, which was shortlisted for the 2019 Women's Prize for Fiction and A House For Alice, a book that moved me to tears before the first chapter even began. Her stories, many of which are set in South London (where I currently live,) often feature mixed-race characters and interracial relationships, themes I was excited to explore with the author herself. Read Diana’s story below.
How do you define your background?
My mum’s Nigerian, my dad was Welsh and English. I see myself as fundamentally British, and a Londoner. London is the place in the UK that feels like home to everybody. As time goes on, I feel more and more identified with London. When I was younger, I used to feel maybe a sense of disconnection from it because there was this question of whether you belong here – that dull question.
How did you connect with your Nigerian heritage growing up?
My mother was the encapsulation of Nigeria in our household: her voice, the food she made, her sense of spirituality, her visceral connection to Nigeria… it’s like she never really left, like she wasn’t spiritually here. That had a powerful effect on me as a child.
We went to live in Nigeria for three years when I was a kid and that had a profound impact on me. I felt very outside of things, me and my sisters weren’t seen as Nigerian, we were seen as oyinbo, which means white. That instilled a feeling of disconnection, but there was also a sense of profound belonging as well through my mum, because we were Nigerian through her and we were on Nigerian soil.
Whenever I go to Nigeria, I always feel a strong sense of belonging, even if the culture doesn't necessarily see me as one of them. They do, actually, when I go to Nigeria now I am very much embraced. They expect me to have a Nigerian husband and be able to speak Nigerian languages, which I shamefully can't.
Many Mixed Messages guests report that living outside of England in one of their heritage countries gives them a stronger grounding in their identity – did you feel that, having lived in Nigeria?
In both countries there was a sense that we were a little bit different. I didn’t really think about race and my identity as a mixed person when I was a child – you don’t, do you? Race is a discourse that we become aware of as we get older, it’s kind of imposed on Black and mixed-race people as something we’re supposed to be preoccupied with. But we’re not.
As a child, that was just my household. It was very normal and natural to me that my dad was white and my mum was Black. In London, we had the luxury of mixed-race identities being a normal fixture of urban life. We always identified with the culture around us, we didn’t question ourselves in that way.
It was on holidays to Nigeria or European countries that I got a sense that we were a little bit different or unusual because of the way people used to look at us, this white man with this Black woman and these six mixed-race children. We were quite a sight. In the UK, I didn’t really feel that it was unusual.
Being mixed sounds like it was a very normal experience for you – have you not spent a considerable amount of time interrogating yourself?
That's accurate. Working on my first novel, 26a, was the first time I really thought about my experiences as a mixed-race person.
I was writing these mixed-race twins and I wanted to write about their lives in their entirety. I realised that their mixed-race identity had coloured or influenced their experiences, like the way that they were seen when they went to Nigeria, the cultural differences between their mother and father growing up and their sense of belonging to the UK as their country.
That was the first time I thought about the discourse around mixed-race identity and realised that I had something to say about it. It was more documenting it and wanting to describe it, rather than offering an opinion.
Did you ever speak to your parents about being mixed?
It wasn't something that we talked about. My mum didn’t really have an awareness of race. She’s Nigerian, her children are half-Nigerian, there’s this simplicity and innocence in the way she thinks about race and I cherish that in her, her ability to claim her own mind in that way. I think of race as a disease, a kind of an infection. I love that my mum isn't isn't infected by it.
I do talk about it with my kids, sometimes there’s a passing acknowledgement that they have Jamaican, English, Welsh and Nigerian, and they’re British. I think they're quite proud of being mixed-race and like being connected to other countries.
We’re all becoming more mixed and it’s getting to the point where there’s quarters and eighths, so there isn’t a quick way of describing someone.
Do you think there are any stereotypes around being mixed?
There is a stereotype that somehow mixed-race people are more pretty, but I don’t think it’s true. It’s banal and not a healthy way of thinking about human beings. There’s a connection to colourism, an insinuation that because you're lighter you’re nicer to look at.
There's also a tendency to forget that mixed-race people are part white. Sometimes people will be blanket offensive to white people and I'll feel a way about it. There can be a lack of respect.
We should be talking about mixed-race identities as something that gives access to a multiplicity of being and openness. Almost anywhere I go that has brown people, they think I’m from there. They don’t look at me as if I’m a foreigner, they kind of assume I’m one of them. I really like the sense of access and that I can find a sense of belonging anywhere, and that counteracts my questioning around belonging in the UK.
What’s the best thing about being mixed for you?
That feeling of access and not being tied to one thing. It's given me a sense of personal freedom. When I was younger, I used to feel like I wasn't Black enough. Now, I don't really think of it in that way. Your sense of cultural identity becomes stronger as you get older. I think being mixed is powerful. I think Black people are very powerful and I like being a part of that power.
One other really positive thing about mixed-race identity is that it rejects the implication that we all have to fit in.
Can you sum up your mixed experience in one word?
Enriching. It has enriched my life and added another dimension to my experience. I appreciate the good and the bad. It gets you thinking about the contestation around it and the questions that it raises.
Buy A House For Alice on Bookshop or Amazon. Next week, I’ll be speaking to The Traitors star Miles Asteri. Subscribe to get Mixed Messages in your inbox on Monday.
Enjoy Mixed Messages? Support me on Ko-Fi! Your donations, which can start from £3, help me pay for the transcription software needed to keep this newsletter weekly, as well as special treats for subscribers. I also earn a small amount of commission (at no extra cost to you) on any purchases made through my Bookshop.org and Amazon affiliate links, where you can shop books, music and more by mixed creators.
Mixed Messages is a weekly exploration of the mixed-race experience, from me, Isabella Silvers. My mom is Punjabi (by way of East Africa) and my dad is white British, but finding my place between these two cultures hasn’t always been easy. That’s why I started Mixed Messages, where each week I’ll speak to a prominent mixed voice to delve into what it really feels like to be mixed.
Brilliant. Diana Evans has such a healthy attitude towards race that it's part of the reason I'm drawn to her work.