Dutch I Surinamese Creole “As I got older, I started to understand more about myself. First I realised I was bisexual, later that I am a trans woman, and eventually I discovered that I am neurodivergent. Suddenly a lot of things made sense why I never really felt like I fully fit into most groups. I was often the only queer person in a foreign friend group, or the only foreigner in a Dutch friend group. For a long time, I tried to hide parts of myself, my neurodivergence, my Surinamese background, and my queerness just to fit in. That’s something I later regretted.
Growing up Dutch with a Surinamese Creole background, I always knew I was different not because I felt different, but because people told me I was. Comments like “you’re brown”, “curlyhead”, or “exotic” were normal to hear. I didn’t really question it at the time because I grew up mostly around Dutch people, and in my mind I was simply Dutch with a mother from Suriname.
In secondary school, I became more aware of race, identity, and how people see each other. I met more people from different backgrounds and started to realise something confusing: people didn’t see me as Dutch because I didn’t look white, but people with foreign backgrounds often saw me as “too Dutch”. It was a strange place to be, and I often felt lonely.
After secondary school I studied journalism because I always loved writing, art, nature, politics and travelling. But even then I still found it difficult to fully express myself. Only in recent years have I started to truly embrace all parts of my identity my multi-ethnic heritage, my gender identity, and my neurodivergence. I began going to anime, fantasy and nature events where I could connect with people through shared interests, where my identity didn’t have to be the main topic.”
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Dutch | Zambian “The racism I experienced when I was younger was difficult to put into words. Since then, I have often felt guarded, which can be exhausting. Learning to stand up for myself and allowing myself to express anger instead of bottling it up has helped me navigate daily life.
Looking back, I now understand how my dad felt. Leaving Zambia was a big culture shock for him, and my mum, although she tried her best, could never really understand what this was like. As I grew older, I started to understand the feeling of not belonging because of how people treated me differently because of my skin colour. I made myself smaller to fit in and to feel in place, an experience we share, just in different generations.
Turning pain into purpose, I now work at an anti-discrimination office, so my daily work-life revolves around fighting for equal treatment for all people. I have accepted that my feeling of not belonging will probably always stay, because it is strongly connected to how others see me. But I have so much joy in embracing both sides of myself, and I feel a deep sense of belonging when I share this with other people of mixed backgrounds. I love the poem “Our Deepest Fear” by Marianne Williamson. I interpret it as a message to the next generation: you can achieve anything you put your mind to, and by shining your light, you inspire others to do the same.
Speaking of inspiration. I have an older friend, who has the wisdom of a thousand lives and the warmth of a thousand suns. She fled her home country, made a life for herself and her children from scratch, kept pushing when things were rough and still manages to be a positive, warm and kind person. She inspires me as a mother, entrepreneur and friend.”
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Russian | Pakistani “This is maybe a little bit silly, but I used to have issues with finding the right make-up. Something about looks and colours just didn’t look and feel right, because a lot of make-up products were focused on pale skin. For example: due to my Pakistani heritage, I have a darkish area under my eyes. Not knowing how to properly handle this made me feel insecure. There were not a lot of women in magazines or on TV who I could look up to for inspiration.
My mum is from Russia and my father is from Pakistan. In hindsight, my parents really tried to integrate well and focused less on their own cultures. They were quite young, and I think you get out of touch with your culture. I didn’t grow up with many visible parts of their cultures. I used to speak Russian with my parents, and when I was little I also spoke Urdu, but we stopped when me and my siblings started answering in Dutch. Growing up in the Netherlands, I wanted to be like everyone else, and sometimes I felt my skin or features stood in the way. Being mixed can make you feel lost in your identity, especially when people categorise you while you’re not really familiar with the cultures yourself.
From an early age, I have learned that the world is bigger than what I just see everyday, and I have learned that my perspective is not necessarily how other people experience the world, because I had two parents from different cultures. Now I see how it really shaped me as a person, even in my career! Sometimes we really think that things are tied to cultures, religions, etc, but I also see that some things are transcending cultures, religions, countries, you name it. Actually see it as a superpower that I’m able to spot that and try to connect different types of people or make them see the similarities between them.
When I was a bit younger, I really wanted to be like everyone else. Now that I am older, I feel more proud of my heritage and more at ease with being who I am. It’s less about being like everyone else and more about being myself.”
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Peruvian | Scottish “I think the lack of a single ‘dominant’ cultural identity (and heavy multicultural upbringing) allowed me to mix with all different cultures, perhaps because I only ever visited Peru as a child, and never felt the burden or identity or the necessity to fit into a culture that was foreign to me (and a language that I couldn’t understand at the time). I’ve had so many challenges and experiences, very rarely though, have these challenges related to my struggle with identity or culture (at least outwardly). I’ve always struggled with a sense of identity, but never found peace (or answers, yet) by looking inward at my own cultural background. I am who I am, and I feel that my own self-identity takes precedence and is the source of more struggle than the cultural background I have. I’m still open to the idea that I could find more personal answers by looking deeper into my mixed identity though.
Growing up, I never felt mixed; it wasn’t something that I actively thought about. Canada is a melting pot of cultures; even my high school was incredibly culturally rich, but it was something that was very rarely mentioned, or only appeared in the fringes (e.g. events, food, church). Only after moving to Europe did I realise how many diverse cultures, people and languages I had the privilege of being around. It always seemed to me that our shared Canadian identity was embraced and placed first.
Embrace the ambiguity. Part of your strength is your uniqueness, in perspective, experience, and adaptability. There will always be a pull to discover your identity, understand your background better. Embrace that, and remind yourself, you are able to self-determine where you fit, how you feel, and what you add into the world.
I admire any culture that highly values community and taking care of their own.”
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Dutch | Senegalese “I think I have hidden parts of my identity, especially my queerness and my neurodivergence, without even realising it. For a long time, so much of my energy went into understanding and navigating my multi-ethnic, biracial identity that there was little space left to explore these other parts of myself.
It is only later in life that I began to recognise and embrace these aspects more fully. Looking back, I see that it was not really about wanting to hide; it was more about survival, about trying to belong and make sense of myself in a world that often prefers clear categories. Now I am learning that all these layers of who I am can coexist and that there is real beauty and power in that complexity.
People have always perceived me differently depending on where I was. When I lived with my mother in West Africa, people often called me métisse which roughly means “mixed”. For a long time, I’ve felt closer to the Dutch side of my culture. But it’s also created a kind of longing for my Senegalese side, a feeling that something was missing or incomplete. I didn’t have contact with my father for a long time. When I finally went back to Senegal at 18, I could clearly feel that I hadn’t grown up within Senegalese culture. It was a strange and sometimes painful realisation, because there’s a deep part of me that longs to feel fully connected to my Senegalese roots. When I’m in Senegal, however, I often feel very European or specifically, very Dutch.
That feeling can be isolating at times, as though I’m standing between two worlds, never fully belonging to either. But it also pushes me to keep exploring and redefining what belonging means for me, finding home not just in a place, but in people, in dance, my art, and moments that reflect both sides of who I am.”
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Dutch | Surinamese “You’d think I feel more Dutch because I grew up here. I’ve never been to Surinam and I don’t speak or understand Sranangtongo. But because I’m not White, I never felt Dutch since in most social settings I’m a minority. I mostly feel like an ‘Amsterdammer’.
I grew up in the North of Amsterdam, which was super diverse. I think in my school class alone there were more than 10 different nationalities. I was never aware of the colour of my skin, until I moved to the Zaanstreek when I was 10. I ended up in a village that did not have much diversity. In high school I could count the kids of different heritage on one hand. Although I wasn’t treated differently in high school, I knew I stood out of the crowd because of
the color of my skin. I never blended in, but I tried to.
For example by starting to straighten my hair every single day. Even till this day I am not always completely comfortable wearing my hair curly. Other girls got boyfriends whilst no boy showed interest in me. It was almost like my feelings were confirmed; I was not good enough because of my skin color. I think it made me wary and protective of myself. I got scared to be rejected and I would put up a front. I made sure I friend-zoned guys first before they could do it to me. I made sure I made a joke about the color of my skin before anyone else could do it. I still hear people around me say ‘I could never see myself with a person of color’ , which I find so hurtful and it makes me want to keep my guard up. Sometimes I was confronted with being different. For example, by not being able to buy the same make-up (foundation) as my friends, because my skin color would never be available in
stores. Or my White school friends not knowing what Keti Koti, Surinam Independence Day, is. I don’t remember talking about it with anyone or complaining about it. It was just the way it was. Nowadays, having a very diverse friendship group and living in the city centre of Amsterdam, being mixed-race doesn’t occupy my mind on a daily basis. I’m proud of the color of my skin and love having perspectives on life from two cultures.”
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Welsh | Indian “My parents split up when I was 4 and it was largely because of my Dad’s severe mental health struggles contributing to him not being able to be a Father or Husband. He did not want to get better or to be on medication. The split caused a rift between my Indian family and my Welsh family, and I was mainly raised by my Mum and my Nan, but I did see my Indian family every other weekend until I was around 10.
Over the last few years I’ve taken my writing more seriously, I’ve always loved to write but I kept it hidden out of fear of my vulnerability. I’ve started sharing it and it’s somehow daunting and freeing. Recently I learnt about Rabindranath Tagore and the deep history of poetry and storytelling within India and Bangladesh. It’s something that comes so naturally to me but it didn’t make sense, I believe it’s a gift from my ancestors. I write poetry to channel pain into something beautiful. Beyond that, I’ve been getting deeper into spirituality, astrology which carries huge significance in India, also cooking and travelling, the next big step will be to travel to India and unlock a deeper layer of knowing my roots.
If I could choose three aspects of my culture to put into a ‘time box’ for the future, the first would be a handwritten poem. Something I’ve written that captures both pain and beauty, reflecting the legacy of storytelling and poetry I now know is deeply rooted in my ancestry. It would represent my journey of reclaiming voice and vulnerability through creativity. The second would be a recording of a Welsh hymn sung by my family. To capture the music, soul, and history of my Welsh side. Music has always been a thread that connects generations in my family, and the sound of it brings back memories of summers in Wales and the deep pride that comes with knowing where you’re from. The final thing would be a jar of homemade curry spices from my Indian Grandma’s kitchen. The smells, the rituals, the warmth of her food, they hold so much love and memory. Even as a child, watching her cook or prepare for prayer gave me a sense of rootedness, and it’s a sensory memory I never want to lose.”
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Nigerian | English/Irish “I am a combination of several different things, all at once or in various combinations depending on the situation or how I feel at the time, none of them contradicting or cancelling out the others. This has always made sense to me, and has never been a source of confusion.
Being mixed-wasn’t something I gave a lot of conscious thought to as a child, but in hindsight I
can see that it was on my mind all the time. On the first day of school, I immediately gravitated towards the only other mixed boy in my class (I’m happy to report that we’re still friends, 28 years later!) and I always felt a sense of relief at seeing other Brown faces in a room. I was also aware of spaces where I felt like I didn’t belong, and usually tried to get out of them as quickly
as possible. As an adult, the only differences are that I do give a lot of conscious thought to my mixed-ness, and actively seek out spaces where I feel like I do belong.
I am always intrigued by how differently I might be perceived depending on where I am. For example, in the UK I feel that I am more likely to be seen as mixed-race. When I have visited the USA, on the other hand, I am often referred to as Black. When I visited The Gambia, meanwhile, I felt that I was perceived as more White than Black. I’m also mistaken for being from other places quite frequently, I have been asked if I am Asian, Brazilian, Arabic, Mediterranean, and many other combinations! I don’t mind this at all, but I have always been overjoyed on the few occasions where someone has been able to identify my West African
heritage just by looking at me. When seeking out role models, in recent years I have found myself looking to people from mixed backgrounds who are a little further along in their journeys than I am. They show me what’s possible! My advice would be: explore, explore, and keep exploring! And that it’s never too late to claim and investigate parts of your cultures, they’re your
cultures after all.”
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Jamaican/Irish | Indian/Irish “When my first niece was born, I had great fun shopping for diverse toys she could play with as soon as she was old enough, feeling a quiet pride whenever I found dolls that looked like me or my sisters, with light-brown skin and dark curly hair. To my dismay, my niece was never really interested in them. She always preferred the dolls with blonde hair and green eyes, dolls who looked like her. I totally get it. That’s what all children want in some way. I remember my own childhood, all the arguments I had with my big sister over whose turn it was to play with our one and only mixed-race Barbie, a rare find in the 90s. Looking back, I realise I wasn’t just buying those dolls for my niece. I was fulfilling my own childhood fantasy of being seen, represented, like every other kid seemed to be.
Sometimes I wonder if passing on our cultural heritage will be a bit like those dolls I bought for my niece: a curiosity laying half-forgotten at the bottom of the toy box. It is what it is though, and I’m still determined to do my best to help teach my nieces and nephew about their special cultural heritage.
As mixed-race people, we often feel pressure to prove that our connection to each of our cultures is deep and authentic, especially when we start thinking about how to pass those cultures on to the next generation. It can feel like each culture needs to be carefully preserved and cultivated with precision and respect, like little bonsai trees of Jamaican, Indian, or Irish culture. However, in my experience, culture doesn’t work like that. My identity has never had neat boundaries. It’s a tangle of vines; a messy, living chimera. At times, I’ve felt self-conscious about that, like my limited knowledge and many cultural faux pas were blasphemous and somehow made me less worthy of claiming or championing those roots.
The truth is: cultures evolve. The Jamaican culture of my ancestors is vastly different from the West African cultures of their ancestors, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful or valid. The same goes for the unique blend I carry.”
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British/Australian | Indian “As a child, I didn’t understand the implications of having a White Mother and a Brown Father. I saw my parents as ‘normal’, even though growing up in 90s Australia mixed couples were far from common. When we moved back to the UK, we were able to visit my paternal Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and cousins. I remember distinctly how distanced I felt from this side of my heritage. The food, the smells, the house décor and the language spoken was in such contrast to my everyday life that I found it difficult to relate to being Indian for many years growing up. I regret not having more curiosity and not being open minded during the time my Grandparents were alive so I could get a better understanding of what it means to be Punjabi.
The older I have become the more I have detached from being labelled as any cultural identity. That’s not to say I don’t find culture fascinating and I see the importance of it for creating bonds. Personally, I have found it more productive to focus on other aspects of my life experience that cross borders, such as being a woman, a mother and my religious identity as examples. I feel that these forms of identity transcend borders and speak to the experience of human existence.
As a single parent raising my son in a conscious way has been a personal challenge for me. He has inherited my mix and is Iranian from his Father’s side. It is important for me to raise my son in a way that he is proud of who he is and has the ability to relate to those around him. Despite spending most of his life with me, he has had much more exposure to his Iranian heritage. Having been with my son’s Father for most of my twenties coupled with my lack of exposure to Punjabi culture, I feel more aligned with the Iranian identity than I am with my own. In contrast I have never been to India. My worry is that my son will only be able to identify as Iranian or Persian when he is older and that this may inform how he views the world. However, I hope to cultivate the idea with him that identity is multifaceted and that he is able to lean into more expansive forms of self-identification.”
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Angolan | Mozambican “When I was younger and unaware I may have hidden the fact that I was actually of African heritage. Growing up in an era where being African wasn’t ‘cool’ or ‘popular’ and just me being so uneducated of where I was from due to age, it became a thing of me just saying I was Portuguese and it was easier to say. However now I am older I have slowly let that go and have become a lot more confident and proud to be of African heritage.
There would be times in school where people would separate into different regions or cultures and I wouldn’t have a specific one to relate to. Even if there was one I’d be questioned for picking it, I’d then have to explain, which didn’t feel great. It was confusing a lot of the time because I didn’t know what ‘group’ I belonged to. What helped was actually my close friends who saw me as just me and understood that I have different parts that make me who I am. In school that meant I knew I was of African heritage and just because I have a different complexion doesn’t make me not African. My friends helped others see that and would then explain with me in some situations.
Just stripping it to its core and really posing the question of who am I? I have so many mixes within mixes that it becomes a question I ask and then there’s only so far back you can go. A personal ongoing challenge is job interviews or casting (as am an actor) to describe where you’re from on the form. But then the explanation of that is a slight challenge as you don’t want to go into full detail about generations but you also want them to know where you’re from so that can be a challenge. It is just questioning where I’m from and then having other people question it, but explaining it as well in professional environments.”
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Spanish | Korean “I am not entirely sure how my parents met, but I’ve been told it was love at first sight. My Dad travelled to Korea for the first time for work, where he met my Mum. Turns out she studied Spanish at her university so that they could communicate in Spanish. The rest happened fast, like something out of a rom-com film; they explored the world together and lived in Korea, Spain, and Hong Kong.
Especially while living away from my home country, I feel more Korean, as my teenage years were spent in Korea. Thankfully, I see this emotional transition as a positive one, as I used to hide my Korean identity. Now that I can embrace this part of myself, I find great joy in it. In my younger years, I was able to adapt to my surroundings, I absorbed both cultures like a sponge. Compared to today’s society, where we encounter diversity more frequently, my experience was drastically different. I grew up in a small town in Lleida, Spain, where everyone knew each other. Later, I lived in Seoul for most of my life, a place that is much larger and busier. One thing remained common: very few people were accustomed to seeing someone who looked like me. And the beauty standards in both countries were opposite.
The challenges I encountered that shaped who I am today primarily revolved around castings for acting and modelling. All of these experiences occurred within five years, during which I faced several obstacles. I remember some agents encouraging me to change my name because they found it difficult to pronounce. There was one director who rejected me, stating that if I were a bit more Caucasian-looking, I would have landed the role. This was a hard truth to confront, given that I am half White and half Asian, but my mixed heritage is not always visually apparent. As a result, I found myself facing limitations based on looks, with most roles being stereotypical and often out of reach, which discouraged me in the industry. I also feel conflicted about ‘diversity castings and hires’. Are we being chosen solely based on our appearance, or are we being evaluated on our skills like other actors?“
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