Jacqueline Roy: “If you don’t like Black people ‘but I’m alright’, you don’t really like me”
The author on visibility, leaving the ladder down and the curiosity of being mixed
Hi, welcome back to Mixed Messages! This week I’m speaking to author Jacqueline Roy, who is of Black and white heritage. Growing up in London in the ‘50s, Jacqueline was the only Black dual heritage person she knew. She has rectified the lack of Black and dual heritage characters in literature throughout her career, including six books for children and a recently republished novel on the experience of institutionalisation while Black, The Fat Lady Sings. Read about Jacqueline’s journey with her identity below.
How do you define your ethnicity?
I have a Jamaican Black father, and a white mother, and I refer to myself as dual heritage. So many terms that describe mixed people become pejorative, so we have to keep shifting and constantly renaming ourselves. Sometimes I think that’s an unfair burden, but another part of me also thinks it’s exciting that we don’t remain static, that we have to keep reasserting ourselves.
What was your environment like growing up?
Very white. I was one of three mixed kids in my school, and even as a child, people wouldn’t sit next to me on the bus. I’d be spat at so frequently that it wasn’t even shocking anymore.
I’ll never forget seeing a dual heritage woman on a bus. I’d never seen a dual heritage adult before, I was so excited. I thought, ‘that’s what I’m going to look like when I grow up.’ I kept trying to catch her eye, I wanted her to see me.
Did you feel connected to your Jamaican culture as a child?
As someone living in Britain, my father was expected to send money back home to help family in Jamaica. My dad was so embarrassed that he couldn’t afford it that he ended up losing touch with his family, so I had no relationship with them.
My dad died when I was seven, and almost immediately we lost every Black person in our lives. My dad’s friends were all male, and as a widow at the time, my mum couldn’t sustain any relationships in the community.
As an artist and a writer, even after my dad died I had the legacy of his writing. While Black culture was absent from the house, his work was everywhere. I worked on his second novel, No Black Sparrows, posthumously, which took me so close to him. I got a sense of who he was as a person, as opposed to the limited awareness you have as a person when they’re just your dad. I couldn’t read his work until I was in my late 20s because it was too painful, but it was such a revelation when I did.
Did you feel able to assert your dual heritage?
A lot of my life has been about trying to work out what it means to be dual heritage. My Black heritage is very evident in my face, there’s no ambiguity about it. What was interesting for me was other people’s responses, comments like “I don’t like Black people, but you’re all right.” My response has always been, “if you don’t like Black people, you don’t really like me.” As a teen, you just want to fit in, and don’t always want that confrontation.
Do you think you settle into your identity with age?
I’m in my ‘60s now, and I’ve certainly come to mind less. There are also so many more dual heritage people now too, in much more visible positions, which I think helps. Education also helped; I did part of my degree in West Indian literature where I learned so much about power relations and the genesis of racism.
Once you can explain racism to yourself, it becomes easier to deal with. If you think about it as a set of power relations, rather than seeing yourself as not fitting in, you see yourself as someone who is about resistance. That seems really important, because resistance and survival go hand in hand.
How does the conversation about being mixed need to change?
It’s constantly evolving. I’m not sure where it will go. Mixed people are growing in number and much more visible, and I think young people are really accepting of who they are. It’s much less contested.
One of the big changes is that we’re now able to name ourselves and decide how we want to be described, using Black as more of a political identity.
Have you brought your dual heritage into your work as an author?
I did with my children’s books, I think almost every one has a dual heritage child. I remember speaking to an editor about my second book, which had a child with a Black parent and a white parent. She said, “haven't you done that already?” I was so taken aback that she thought being dual heritage was just a plot, not about simply being.
I hate having to describe skin colours as well, as with white characters you don’t need to do that. It’s interesting that white is assumed, so to see the language available to describe someone like me is fascinating as a writer.
It’s exciting to see dual heritage writers succeeding at the moment, but it can be difficult if dual heritage people are likely to be more successful than monoracial Black writers. That’s shade prejudice and a real problem. We have to be very careful as mixed people to not pull the ladder up after us, and make sure real inclusivity happens, and that we’re not used as tokens because we appear less threatening.
That makes me very uncomfortable, because I don’t want to be used in that way. I’m not responsible for the choices other people make, but I have to call them out if I become aware of it.
Did you look for other dual heritage people to connect with?
I consciously seek out people who are different, maybe at an unconscious level. But it’s been hugely important for me to seek out Black people – some discussions around discrimination can only be had with other Black people. It can be hard for white people to understand the experiences I’ve had.
Do you ever get bored talking about your racial identity?
It’s so important, so I want to engage with the conversation, but I do get fatigued every now and then. I’m increasingly impatient with wilful ignorance. If people understand when you correct them, that’s absolutely fine. But when people refuse to change, I can’t.
We’re bombarded with people on a daily basis who will not hear what we’re saying, across media and the internet. I don’t know why I do this, but I look at comments online sometimes and I think the internet has given a platform to people who have no idea what they’re talking about.
What’s the best thing about being dual heritage?
That I have to keep thinking about who I am, how I want to present myself and what that means. Those questions are really valuable questions, particularly within the creative arts.
Being dual heritage also gives you a different perspective, a broader sense of who people are. You don’t take people’s cultural positions for granted. There can be a genuine sharing of positions and identities, which is enjoyable.
How would you define your dual heritage identity in a word?
Thought-provoking. We don’t label as dual heritage people, we have the curiosity to ask and we’re observant in ways that other people don’t have to be. If you’re trying to figure out where you fit, you observe other people to see how they fit in.
Next week, I’ll be talking to tarot diviner, witch and creative designer Claire Yurika Davis. 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.