I am not British. I am not Latinx. I am British Latinx.
Whether you are first, second or even fifth generation; whether you immigrated here when you were young, whether you only arrived in Britain a few years ago; you have the absolute right to claim your ties to both British and Latinx nations.
As far as current data goes (due to the lack of statistical data on the UK Latinx diaspora), the current Latinx population living in London is approximately 145,000 –with 250,000 living across the whole of the UK. Moreover, the Latinx population is the eight largest ethnic minority, which is almost as numerous as the London Bangladeshi, Pakistani or Nigerian populations. Nevertheless, since Latinx representation across society, media and policy is lacking, it often doesn’t feel as if our demographic is prominent.
Identity, which is often viewed as a force for good, allowing someone to feel a sense of belonging to a larger group, can also act as the ground upon which to exclude others who do not meet certain ‘criteria’ deemed necessary for assimilation into the dominant group. For me, growing up British to a first-generation Colombian father and Brazilian mother, exclusionary forces, such as race and linguistic ability, have prevented me from fostering a sense of acceptance into both British and Latina identity groups; expectations to look or speak a certain way come from inside and outside of the Latinx community.
My experience growing up in a primarily white area in the outskirts of London and going to a predominantly white school was quite negative. At the end of 2018, a survey carried out by The Guardian found that, comparatively, people from an ethnic minority background were more likely to face every day negative experiences connected to racism than white people. During my time at secondary school, other students would never hold back from pointing out the physical aspects that made me stand out from the (mostly white) crowd. Born to a Colombian father meant I inherited his darker features. I have darker, thicker hair on my arms compared to my classmates who were of European descent and I was always singled out for this. It is upsetting to know that I was made to feel so alien because I did not meet traditional Western standards of beauty that other blonde, white girls did. These sorts of experiences made me realise that although the UK is the only home I know, I have not always felt ‘at home’ here.
By contrast, there are also exclusionary efforts made by Latinx individuals. In Latinx spaces, especially online, there is a persistent narrative that a person must have knowledge of the language, Spanish or Portuguese, as a prerequisite to their Latin American identity. I have captured some examples of this, taken from social media platforms such as Instagram and Twitter, depicting the harsh language that some people engage with.
The assumption that the ability to speak Spanish or Portuguese is necessary to be allowed to call yourself Latin American is not only reductive, but it also excludes hundreds of indigenous languages spoken across Latin America, and ignores the other things that connect people to their heritage. If language is the be all and end all, then I suppose we should forget cuisine, music, dance, traditions, religion, and family as cultural aspects of being Latin American. If the only thing that connects you to your identity is language, then I am afraid you are left with a very insipid idea of what constitutes culture and perhaps you are then the one who has lost touch with the colourful customs that represent our Latinidad.
Ultimately, what my experience has taught me is that I am allowed to take up space. I am not in borrowed land. The UK continues to be my home, even if I continue to celebrate Christmas on the twenty-fourth and not the twenty-fifth; even if I hate Sunday roasts but love Sunday sancocho. This goes for all Latinx residing in the UK, whether you were born on British land or otherwise. Language does not make up your whole identity and much less does it make you any less worthy of your Latin American heritage.
I am a British Latinx who belongs to both cultures, both lands, and who is finally finding pride in my wonderfully complex identity. My twisting roots are allowed to be intertwined and, frankly, they mean I get to take the pleasure to enjoy the fruits of not just one tree, but many. This is a unique privilege. Lastly, I would like to invite other non-perfect Spanish and/or Portuguese speakers to connect on social media platforms to begin creating a safe space to be ourselves.
To read more about visibility within the UK Latinx community you can click here.
