A Reflection On Being Brigerian
Brigerian (pronounced ‘bry-geer-ian’) is a word I generated from putting the words British and Nigerian together. Although I thought of myself as super ingenious when I “made up” the word, I am not the first to use the term. I googled it and saw that someone mentioned it on a blog way back in 2008 (nothing new under the sun right?). Their definition of it varied from mine however. In my use of the term, a Brigerian is someone who classifies themselves as both British and Nigerian. Being born and raised in London to Nigerian parents, I fully identify myself as being British, and I fully identify myself as being Nigerian, and oh the woe that that has caused.
At times it is difficult identifying with both. For many ethnic minority people born to immigrant parents in many countries, the concept of belonging has long been a tough one. There is always that dreaded question that makes you squirm inside whenever it is asked. Wait for it…
“Where are you from?”
Many a time their response comes in the form of another question. Variations of “Do you mean originally? Or do you mean where I live? Or do you mean ethnically or where my parents are from?” ensue. And the response is generally much simpler after that second question. If I were to answer that question in all its possible forms the response would be any or all of the following: London. England. Britain. Nigeria. Ekiti State. Yoruba. Ado. Shepherds Bush. Hammersmith. West London. I could continue but that’s already a lot of options to choose from.
Another problem occurs when, tired of having to clarify the demand “where are you from” with a follow up question, people decide to pick the one they most identify with and go with that. But there can be problems with it depending on where you go and who you are talking to. When I’m in London, if someone asks me where I am from, my general answer is I was born and raised in London but my parents are originally from Nigeria. If I’m talking to someone who is also an ethnic minority, I normally leave out the born in London part as there is an unspoken mutual understanding that they are asking about my ethnic background. When I’m in Nigeria however I say I am from London (or Ekiti state depending on who I am talking to). In Europe and any other place abroad, I say I am from London. Those whoever who aren’t as elastic in their approach can be confronted with a tirade of further questions, especially when they aren’t first generation immigrants…
In London — “Where are you from?” “London.” “And your parents?” “London.” “Their parents?” “London.” “I mean where are you from like, originally?” “My parents and their parents were all born in London, but my ancestors are from Jamaica.” *Cue sigh of relief from person asking the question* “Oh okay, that’s cool!” Or in Nigeria — “Where are you from?” “I’m Yoruba, from Ekiti state.” “But you don’t sound Nigerian, were you born here?” “No, I was born in London…” Or in Italy — “Where are you from?” “The UK, London.” “No but where are you really from?”
And so the conversations go. At times it is difficult being Brigerian and having to justify it to others. How do you explain that Britain is home and Nigeria is home too, both in different ways? For me the two nationalities are synonymous to my identity. They are both who I am and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
I love being British. I love being a citizen of a nation that has shaped and influenced the world for years and centuries (for better or for worse), and I love being able to call one of the biggest and most sought after cities in the world home. But there are those who would say I am not British. My mum isn’t British by birth, nor is my father, and my skin isn’t white or Caucasian. I had no say in the fact my mother left Nigeria to work overseas at the age of 25 and gave birth to me here. Yet the way I speak is “British”, the way I eat is “British” (though sometimes it is more Italian, I do love my pasta!) and the way I live is “British.”
I also love being Nigerian. I love being from the most populous African nation in the world, a land of natural resources unmatched, whose citizens are among the most resourceful, resilient and relentless people I have ever met (again, for better or for worse). But there are those who would say I am not Nigerian. I have an accent when I speak my mother’s native tongue Yoruba. I wasn’t brought up in a typically Nigerian way, kneeling for every elder I see or wearing ankara and lace. I have never lived in Nigeria. And when I do go, there are those who call me ‘oyinbo’ (white person) because they can tell from how I talk and at times just by looking at my skin that I am ‘different’. Yet I feel an incredible affinity to Nigeria and it is one that no one can take away from me.
So at times being told to pick one or the other and not be a ‘coconut’ or a ‘bounty’, or being treated as a foreigner whenever I’m in Nigeria makes me think do I need to choose one to belong to? I’ve decided not to. I am both of them and both of them are me.
I am a Brigerian, and proud.
A Reflection On Being Brigerian is an excerpt from the book ‘A Quarter Centenarian’s Guide to the Galaxy’ by Khafi Kareem. It is a collection of 25 poems, reflections and lessons learnt by the age of 25. To order the book visit Amazon.co.uk
