Isabella Johnson: “I feel like I’m not entitled to my whole Blackness”
The multi-hyphenate on labels, uncertainty in her identity and feeling on the back foot
Hi, welcome back to Mixed Messages! This week I’m speaking to dancer, content creator and mental health advocate Isabella Johnson, who is of Black and white heritage. Growing up in Plymouth, a move to London encouraged Isabella to embrace her identity, but also think critically about labels, colourism and belonging. Here is how her journey began, and what she’s learned along the way.
How do you define your ethnicity?
I would say mixed or Black-British. I wouldn't call myself a Black woman; that’s just wrong when I’ve got all these other countries and mixes in me. I’m a quarter Jamaican, a quarter Welsh, a quarter Italian and a quarter English.
Someone commented on my Instagram the other day after I referred to myself as Black saying, “You’re a beautiful mixed-race woman.” It wasn’t negative, she just meant ‘own who you are. You are of the Black community, but you’re a mixed woman in the Black community.’
Did you grow up connected to all sides of your culture?
I didn’t identify with my Black side at all. I grew up in a very white area in Plymouth, so I had no Black cultural background to look to until my 20s. I feel on the back foot now, having to catch up and learn about food, hair, music and culture.
Even in my career as a dancer, who does a lot of classic styles like ballet, tap and jazz, I always knew that there was something different about me. There was always an uncertainty, but it was never talked about.
Was there a point in life that made you want to connect more with your Black heritage?
Around 11 years old, I started doing more hip-hop, breaking and popping, and that introduced me to hip-hop culture, a lot of Black culture and a lot of Jamaican culture. I finally felt comfortable, even in terms of my movement. Ballet didn’t come naturally to me, and I had to work really hard at it, whereas the rhythm in hip-hop was naturally there. The culture, the people, the dress, it just made sense to me. It was the first time I started to recognise a real cultural difference between the styles.
I also moved to London at 17 for dance school, and I felt like I could finally breathe. I was no longer with a racist dance teacher or trying to straighten my hair to fit in. I saw people on the tube or walking down the street who looked like me, people with darker skin and curlier hair, I heard reggae music... I felt instantly at home. It was beautiful.
Did that affect how you saw yourself?
Being around non-white culture was a big adjustment for me. I’d gone from being ugly back home to getting wolf whistles, because the norm wasn’t skinny, white and blonde anymore. Beauty standards also started to change in society; I went through a stage of being used in music videos purely for my image.
Did the Black Lives Matter resurgence of last summer affect your sense of identity?
It really pushed me on my own journey to discover what my Blackness means to me, and what it’s been like for my family. I got to speak to my aunt about her heritage last year which was amazing. Despite me seeing her as a Black woman, she identifies as mixed and encouraged me to embrace all sides of my heritage. I would really encourage people to speak to their family members, especially older generations, even if it’s a difficult conversation.
Do you ever feel like you can’t claim your Blackness?
Sometimes it feels as if I’m not allowed or entitled to my whole Blackness, but my quarter shouldn’t be denied just because my melanin isn’t as strong or my hair’s not as tight. I’m actually on the fence with a lot of things about identity; I’m mixed-race, I’m pansexual, not fully Black, not fully gay, I don’t know what or where I am in terms of society. It makes me question why I should be diminished because of being quarter-Black. Should I not say I’m Welsh because I’m a quarter Welsh? Where’s the line?
I’ve had to try and learn my place and where I can speak up on behalf of the Black community, understanding my privilege with having lighter skin. My voice should always be heard, but in my place. It’s hard to find that place when, as a mixed person, I don’t have confidence and security as to who I am.
What are your thoughts on labels?
Labels can help individuals, but they’re also restrictive. Even when people ask me what I do, I do lots of different things! I don’t really want to be put in a box because I’m just myself. I might identify with labels that society has, but I will choose if I want to be placed in them. It’s not for anybody else to decide.
Is there a way you’d like to see the conversation around mixedness change?
I’d like the whole fetishisation element of it to be tackled, for mixed people not to be so sexualised. I wasn’t even aware that it happened, and to me too, before people started speaking about it and I could reflect on my own situations.
It’s important for parents of mixed children to not fetishise them either and think they’re cute just because they’re mixed.
How would you sum up your personal mixed experience in one word?
Truth. When you’re mixed, people like to deny your experiences, but my truth is all that really matters. As long as my heart and intentions are good, I can’t go wrong.
Next week, I’ll be talking to journalist Ellie Abraham. Subscribe to get Mixed Messages in your inbox on Monday!
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Mixed Messages is a weekly exploration of the mixed-race experience, from me, Isabella Silvers. My mom is Punjabi Indian (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.