Not one of us

Hey guys, Andy here. Growing up with a British (English/ Scottish) father, an English name and accent, public school educated, being a 6 ft 1’ rugby player, and having served as a British Army officer, one might assume my path was straightforward, white, and privileged.? However, for the sake of balance, please read this; my mother is Chinese and she is also a refugee, I was born abroad (in Hong Kong), I was sent to boarding school half way around the world from my parents and I have a non caucasian complexion and brown ‘Chinese' eyes. How does that path look now?

After a week of riots, protests and counter protests, the challenges of immigration, culture and co- operation are not lost on me. Throughout my life I’ve played against type and been held by different communities and groups to different standards. It’s exhausting and a potential reason why I am as stubborn as I am.

I came to the UK for scholastic stability; my father could not guarantee an English-speaking school at his future job postings. Growing up I shuttled between boarding school and 'home' or wherever my parents were living and working at the time. 'Home' was Hong Kong, Tokyo (Japan) and Riyadh (Saudi Arabia) with my parents taking advantage of each location to befriend locals, find hole- in- the- wall restaurants, visit local markets etc… As glamorous as frequent long distance air travel sounds, I never knew if my next visit ‘home’ would be my last time there and integrating into a local community is uncommon in expatriate communities and often isolating. So for the sake of necessity I attended private school. To the state educated (including my wife), I’m regarded as privileged, but among the publicly educated my school is not considered top tier and I am therefore excluded from ‘their’ group.

At my public school, my teachers thought my choice of university course (East Asian Studies, ie Chinese) was an easy way to be accepted to Edinburgh University. While I gravitate towards languages I was not bi- lingual growing up and ‘easy’ is not the adjective I would use to describe a non Roman, tonal, and non phonetic language. And, it is worth noting, while at university, my English accent led to being viewed as the Auld Enemy.

Joining the British Army after graduation my military career lasted seven years, starting with a year at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (RMAS), and including a year at the Defence School of Languages (learning Farsi), with my remaining five years at ‘regimental duty’. During these five years, I completed four operational tours (Iraq, Cyprus and twice to Afghanistan), spent approximately 1,000 days away on deployment and exercise, and worked in various sub-units (five) for numerous sub-unit commanders (eight). It is perhaps no surprise that my yearly reports read like a smorgasbord of mediocrity; being pushed from pillar to post meant those writing my reports barely knew me. My service was marked by a litany of poor, and sometimes wrong, career advice, broken promises with my career manager disappearing while hiking. Despite perceptions to the contrary the Army is like any other job or company; it helps if your face fits or someone looks out for you.

My final year in the Army conformed to this pattern; my role in Afghanistan, promised when I signed my contract extension, was handed to someone else to benefit their career. Additionally I was told my top third grade, for my final report, would be a waste as I was leaving the Army and I was downgraded. The icing on the cake was leaving having undertaken zero resettlement with all the courses intended for soldiers and not officers. I was told this was ‘as it should be’.

During my service photography had became my passion and is the path I decided to pursue as a civilian. However in military terms photographers are soldiers, not officers. This has meant I received little to no support from the officer corps and old boy networking and, having not been a photographer while serving, I do not have the professional or industry contacts military photographers have.

As a photographer I worked predominantly for foreign editorial and media titles where professional relationships were conducted via email or the phone. I was rarely commissioned by UK titles or brands and especially not if a commission required a face to face meeting. What can I say; clearly I have a winning and sparkling personality.

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Post COVID, the once-thriving UK creative industry now offers fewer opportunities, especially for someone like me who doesn't fit the traditional mould. The 2021 UK census highlights the visibility and invisibility of my identity: 81.7% white, 9.3% Asian (of which Chinese is 0.7%), 4% Black, and 2.9% mixed. Within these categories, I belong to the 0.8% of mixed white/Asian individuals. In the UK, my mixed-race identity often leaves me feeling out of place. In white neighbourhoods, I'm seen as foreign. In non-white neighbourhoods, I'm considered white. I have been blocked on social media for differing views on racism and everywhere I go I am, for the most part, perceived as 'not one of us.’

I used to believe the doors that closed in my face were my fault. Maybe I am not as good as I think I am and that I need to work harder? Taking the aforementioned examples individually, this argument holds a certain amount of water. However taken collectively, the larger pattern becomes clearer. Unfortunately the issue was me but my talent, or lack thereof, is less important than how I look.

Co- operation is hard. Integration is hard. Respecting difference and acknowledging other cultural expressions is hard. We like to stick to our tribes, be it through ethnicity, language, culture, sport; you take your pick. However consider the contributions and the richness that comes from being multi- cultural; I’d wager your favourite sports team is ethnically diverse and not homogenous. I’ll take a punt and say that your take away favourites include pizza (Italy), a rogan josh (India), and a chow mein (China). On a night out you won’t say no to a nice cold San Miguel (Philippines), or Guinness (Ireland) or Corona (Mexican). And what about a fish and chips (Spain/ Portugal), gyros (Greece) or Doner kebab (Turkey) while your wait for your über which could come be any one of VW (Germany), Toyota (Japan) or Hyundai (Korea). Now tell me you do not benefit from multiculturalism.