I turned up for a meeting with some potential new clients, when I first started The Pitch Fanzine, and was asked whether I worked for Sherry Collins. I said: “Sometimes yeah, but as she’s at the back of my head and I only bring her out once in a while, you have me today.”
Cue confusion.
The perfect answer. Shame I only just thought of it now.
Was it my name? I don’t know, but there goes that assumption again.
I think I mumbled an answer or something at the time. Honestly, I couldn’t be bothered.
Four-and-a-half years later and yes, I am bothered. Did I not belong there? Or was that my assumption? Or both?
I think there were assumptions on both sides.
The colour of my skin certainly doesn’t mean I cannot also get it wrong. I am human.
Knowing the right thing to say or when not to cause offence can be confusing for most people. I don’t know everyone else’s culture. Who does?
Learning, education and having honest conversations will always help.
Sometimes though some things have just got to be said.
Like being called an acronym. A lot of people are offended by this and I can understand why. Firstly, we were labelled by our colour. Now we are a single letter and grouped together for…neatness?
Who needs that?
Nope.
I’m a Jamaican, can’t I just be that? Or, better still according to our family historian we are originally Igbo (EE-boh) and from Nigeria. Might even be a descendant of a Warrior Queen.
So, call me Sherry Collins, Jamaican, Igbo, Warrior Queen.
Yep, that’s me.
Nice ring to it.
Best wishes,
