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Scottish Woman II

I was born in London to an English mother and a father who was an immigrant from the Commonwealth. My mother's mother was Scottish and had moved to the South East in the 1930's with her husband to find work.

After my parents' marriage broke down, I moved to Scotland with my mum, my older sister and my gran.

My sister and I went to a local state school on the West coast. I was encouraged to be proud of my heritage, but was very aware that most people thought I was different (which was not always a bad thing!).

At primary school, which I started in 1970, I remember being treated badly by some teachers, but it did not seem racial. It was more to do with being poor. I didn't find it difficult to make friends and don't remember many incidents.

Everything changed when I went to secondary school. That year they showed a programme called ‘Roots’ on the television. This was about an African American's search for his ancestry, but at my school, I think most people had completely missed the point of it. Some boys in my class decided that Kunta Kinte (the name of one of the Ancestors who was enslaved) was an appropriate nickname for me. They also called me Chocolate and Paki.

I had many good friends and remember quite vividly that none of the girls in my class ever joined in, and most were very supportive, but that did not stop the boys constantly jeering and jibing me using these names.

I think I could have just about survived it, until during a conversation with a boy who wanted to borrow a pencil from me, I discovered that most of the boys in my class did not know my real name. I was devastated by this!

Outside of school, mostly when I was on my own, people would shout racist abuse at me.

When I left school in the early eighties, I found it very difficult to find real work. There was a real recession which most people who were around at that time will identify with. But I had an added handicap: people's attitudes to the way I looked.

In frustration, I moved to London and have lived here ever since. I love living in London. The mix of people is something that does not happen anywhere else on earth and the fact that the way I look is unremarkable makes it even better.

In the intervening years, I have returned for holidays, and kept in touch with friends.

I am always disappointed that even supposedly intelligent people who move in cosmopolitan circles will "go to the Chinky's" or "go to the Paki shop", or have long conversations about the colour of an African friend's skin, or say things like "some of my best friends are Darkies".

When challenged they always feel they are perfectly reasonable to speak in such terms and I am always horrified when they try to further justify such statements. Scottish people are always very politically aware, but they always let themselves down when it comes to understanding racism.

I would love to return to Scotland as that is where I was raised. You are my people and my culture and it is where I feel at home. BUT, I am not confident, 21 years on, that much has changed and as a result I am still here.

The message 'No Place for Racism' needs to be everywhere for it to make a difference. It needs to be in the media, in the soaps, in kids’ magazines as well as in schools. Comedy is also a fantastic way to get the message across. The 'Going for an English' sketch in 'Goodness Gracious Me' did a lot more for race relations than any politician's speech ever has.

People need to be empowered to object to the racist labels which are so freely used. I am fed up of hearing people saying that their local Chinese takeaway does not mind being called a "Chinky" and their local convenience store does not mind being called a "Paki shop", because I know they do mind very much. The use and acceptance of this type of language shows Scotland up to be a very backward nation when it comes to race relations.

It is a pity because in all other respects Scotland is a great place to live. Scotland's people are friendly and warm and welcoming. They just need to be educated on how to treat people who don't look like them.