Dear Future Child

Introduction - Starting with the why

As I begin to write this, we have just had confirmation that the first woman and woman of colour in history has been elected into the white house as vice president. And I'm pleased to say Dear Future Child, that her skin looks like what I imagine yours will look like. I have always liked self-improvement and have always thought of my views as progressive and inclusive. I have read and shared phrases like 'be the change you want to make' over and over. I've been vocal about equal rights and corrected many of my colleague's (and even your dad's) wrong definitions of feminism (it's simply equality of the sexes by the way).

However, I'm also a 5ft, first-generation Latina immigrant who had to figure out many things on her own and give up some dreams along the way. Growing up, I have been spat on, and beaten up at school. I've been told over and over how I'm too small. I've been advised by the adults trusted in a position of power that my accent is just too strong meaning I'd never break into theatre and drama; or that I'd never be a radio presenter no matter what passion I showed. I also had great friends who held my hand and made me feel better, but it cemented in my mind that unless I rose from my working-class roots those shadows would always be there because that world would never be safe enough for you. And so, I adapted, and I've changed, and I've grown.

I traced a plan, I got a degree, then a top-up, and then another. I moved as far from those years as I could, unfortunately also leaving friends there along the way. As with everything in life, I did what I set out to do, but not without consequences.

Those years set some limiting beliefs such as 'done is better than perfect' and once something is 'good enough' I shall move on, as after all I am different, and I don't belong therefore for me things will never be perfect. I've grown to use that as my shield, to be loud enough to be heard while deep down resenting the loudness of my voice.

And then there was 2020. Your grandpa passed away in February, and the pandemic we are just coming out of had risen towards its peak by mid-March.

We were searching for houses then, preparing for you, and just like that I saw that our carefully laid plan to start trying for you slip away.

By July, we would see the death of George Floyd, who was tragically murdered in police custody in the US giving spark to worldwide protests about systemic racism around the world. Fresh ripples of horror as more footage was unearthed of others around the world, sadly and tragically gone, too soon. For nothing, for rage, for ignorant individuals to continue being inhumane.

For a while, it felt like a sad time for humanity, but the veil must be lifted if we are to treat the darkness within.

It was the first time in a long time, since childhood when I was called a 'Paki' and spat on simply for walking down the street going home from school that I truly thought about race. I'd become comfortable you see in my middle-class bubble; I'd been too successful in distancing myself from those early days and the fears within. But luckily, I wasn't the only one waking up from that haze.

Those horrors sparked conversations around the world, and people were asking themselves - is this the type of world we want to live in? Is this a place we want to bring our children up in? Something's got to change. And so, people took to the streets, and new productive conversations started, and a ray of hope shone through the darkness that the world would come together and collectively say no.

Don't get me wrong there will always be those that look to sabotage anyone that looks or talks differently, but if the masses agree, the world will follow. My eyes were open. I took the first step in acknowledging this will affect you forever and I knew nothing about the history of racial tensions which still shape the society you would live in.

Let me be clear, this is not a self-pitying book. My hope as I discuss these experiences is to provoke discussions and hopefully be there to help you reflect on how your own experiences have shaped you and what teachings, and most importantly changes, perhaps you would like to pass on to your children someday.

That is what I am doing, and why this book - a compilation of thoughts in essays exists. As a manifesto, to you Dear Future Child. Because Dr Maya Angelou still said it best:

'Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.'

So, here it is, written in ink lessons from my key experiences that I pass onto you and a promise to try my best and always keep learning to do better by you.