Many a friend back home ask me whether I was racially discriminated or abused in London, ever, as they were under the impression that the "whites" are racists. Not a single "white" British person had ever made me think I was not up to their standards because my skin looks different than theirs.
The only time I was racially abused here was by an African-British lady on the bus. I was pregnant and was looking to sit. This lady moved towards the window and I graciously thanked her for making a seat for me. She turned to me, of course thinking that this diminutive, pregnant, South Asian woman could be easily abused, and told me- "You think I moved to give you a seat? Nope. I just do not want people like you to touch me." Friends who know me well, know what my reaction would be. So it was. The bus driver, a black British man, stopped the bus and asked the lady to step down. The lady was shocked and told him, "You my brother, how could you do this?" The driver defiantly said, "I am no brother of you, Ma'am. I won't have racists on my bus." The lady stepped down and the whole bus applauded.
Yes, I do get strange looks from time to time when we are out as a family. As if I am an internet-bride, as if I have married one from their lot to get a British passport. It makes me smile as I still hold on to my own country's passport (and no, it is not from fervent Nationalism that I've chosen to retain it).
Our daughter has been told by the older kids she plays with in our neighbourhood that I am not her mother because I do not look like her. She is aware now that she has brown hair like her father while I have black hair and that I look different than they do. I have brushed all of it aside as there is a lot of meanness everywhere in the world and she will have to learn through experience.
But the Brexit catastrope had made me conscious of how I look and more importantly, what does my look represent under the current situation in England. I wore my work ID around my neck even when I commuted back and forth from work just to make people around me aware that I am a tax-paying resident of this country. No one asked me to, I just did it because I strangely felt safe. While travelling on the train as a family yesterday we noticed a man stand up from his seat and walk away from us. On other occasions we would have thought, "oh that is very nice of him, he wanted us to sit together." But we didn't, in this instance. We invariably thought he walked away because we are a mixed-race family and he is being outright racist.
We have started thinking ill of people already. Distrust has taken a grip and clouded our judgements. We never wanted it all to come to this.