Monika Radojevic

What’s your full name?

Monika Radojevic.

Where were you born/brought up?

London.

What do you do for a living?

I currently work in advocacy communications for a human rights NGO founded by Nelson Mandela, but I’m also a writer, poet and artist.

What’s your ethnicity?

I am half-Brazilian and half-Montenegrin, although there’s a mix of other things in there too we think! 

How old were you when you became conscious that people saw you differently? What impact did that have on you?

I think I’ve always been aware of it because of the question ‘where are you from?”, which has been asked since I can remember. But there is one memory that sticks out - I was around 8 or 9, when I mis-pronounced a word at school and a girl in my class burst out laughing and made a comment about how strange my English was. Turned out I had been mis-pronouncing a whole bunch of words. It seems so silly now, but I was a very self-conscious child and I remember feeling so humiliated and stupid. English is my first language but I’ve had comments before that I pronounce certain words strangely, even now. My parents are both fluent in English but hadn’t been living in the country long when I was born, and their accents have influenced my own. I used to hate that because of how it made me stand out, but now I embrace it and I’m so proud of my parents and their impact in my life- I think that’s an evolution every mixed kid goes through.

Describe your most memorable moments when you were made aware of being mixed race.

This is a hard question to answer. Honestly, I think I am incredibly privileged in many ways, because I am white-passing and the colour of my skin has very rarely made me a target. Being mixed doesn’t carry the same dangers for me as it definitely does for some others  - although I have obviously experienced racism and xenophobia. So it is a different type of awareness than some other mixed people. I think what is more memorable are the times where I have been made to feel like I don’t belong anywhere due to my heritage because all these moments tend to accumulate into one general sense of being othered. 

People often have preconceptions of what someone from Brazil or Montenegro looks like so I get a lot of ‘oh you don’t look like a typical x y or z’ or ‘but where are you really from?’. There’s often a strange thing that happens when a stranger tries to correct me after they’ve listened to my explanation of my origins, usually by telling me the country of my birth is the only place I can really ‘claim’ and I find that really infuriating and don’t engage in that conversation further. It was rare, back when we could go out safely, that a week would go by without someone asking me where I’m from, and every time they do it’s a reminder of being mixed. It’s the same thing when people assume they know where I’m from. People have come up to me in the street speaking their own language, expecting me to reply, or assume I am from the same place as they are and try to start a conversation based on that. Those are the most memorable moments for me. 

Do you feel your parents prepared you for life as a mixed race person?

Not really, but I think it comes down to our different understandings of identity. Neither of my parents struggle to define themselves because they live in a country they don’t come from, and so to them their identity is rooted in the countries they were born and raised in. But I come from the UK, I was born here. Yet I also feel like such an outsider - everywhere I go. When we talk about ‘belonging’, my parents don’t understand it when I tell them I feel like I don't belong in the UK almost as much I feel like the UK is my home, and they don’t understand why I struggle to answer the ‘where are you from’ question, because the answer is easy for them.

What ignorant comments have you heard about being mixed-race that really rile you?

Being called ‘exotic’ will always anger me- I’m not a piece of fruit. There’s an intersection between ethnicity and gender that factors into this as well - I’ve been told by a stranger in a bar that I am only claiming to be Brazilian in order for him to picture me in a bikini - and I’ve lost count of the amount of times men I don’t know have changed their behaviour for the worse when they find out where I’m from, and make comments about how ‘fiery’ I must be in bed. Stereotypes about South American women and their supposed promiscuity and intelligence also really rile me. Again, there is a lot of privilege to my experience. When I’ve been in the sun and am visibly darker, comments like this become much worse - it’s mad how many people think that a comment about how attractive they find me based on how foreign I look is a compliment. I’ve also been told ‘stop pretending that you’re white’, out of the blue by someone I considered a friend - I was so stunned by that I had no idea how to answer, let alone unpack whatever was meant by that comment. To this day, I have never known what pretending to be white looks like.  

What do you wish people who aren’t mixed-race understood?

That identity can be a lot more confusing than it seems. Even if on paper, it might seem simple, there are emotions and meaning attached to identities, and it isn’t as obvious as simply saying you are from where you were born. There are so many parts of British culture that are foreign to me because I was raised in a home filled with a mixture of Yugoslavian and Brazilian TV, music, cuisine and culture. I’ve sat through many conversations with people referencing pop-culture that everyone except me can relate to, and that really became apparent when I did my undergrad in Bristol, which is overwhelmingly white. There were so many instances of being in a room full of people and feeling both inadequate and completely out of place, even though it’s completely unintentional. Sometimes I wish it were easier for people who aren’t mixed to know what it feels like to constantly be reminded of being in a very different headspace - but at the same time, it’s not like there are many people here who can relate to Montenegrin-dubbed Peter Pan, for example!

Do you think mixed race people/families are well represented in the media?

It’s definitely getting better, although the most representative TV shows still tend to come from the US. But I don’t think we are at a stage where mixed race families/characters are a norm rather than some kind of interesting hook, plot advancement or point of conflict - I think there’s so much tokenism around including people and families of colour in media to try and make a point, rather than reflecting the lived experience of these families. It can be liberating also, to see representations of people whose identity is not the sole purpose of that character. I’m optimistic that things will continue to get better in the media, which after all, is always looking for the ‘next big thing’ to lure in viewers. If that’s how we diversify the media then so be it. 

Back in the late 19th century/early 20th century being mixed race held a stigma, as it was clear proof of interracial relations which was seen as an affront to society’s morals. Do you think it’s easier nowadays to be mixed race or is it more that racism has become subtler?

I can only answer from the perspective of someone who is protected from racism in many ways, but it seems to be both, without a doubt. There was a point where being mixed race was a literal crime in some countries, and although we’ve come a long way from that, racism, like sexism, is still very mainstream. There is a very obvious resurgence of white supremacy and a normalisation of casual racism. But for a mixed person who looks like me, it is undoubtedly easier, although that does not mean it's easy.

Is being mixed race a burden or a blessing for you?

Again, it’s always going to be both, but I would say more of a blessing! The hard moments are when you aren’t quite sure of who you are- and I think there are so many layers, so much vastness and vagueness for mixed people. It can feel like an internal battle constantly being inflamed by external perceptions of who or what you are. You have to deal with your own questions about where - if anywhere- you belong whilst having to prove to others your right to take up space. There is often the sense of being too ‘other’ to feel represented in mainstream spaces but not being ‘other’ enough to belong to spaces of colour. I’m lucky to be in London which is amazingly diverse, but even here I sometimes feel like an imposter in those spaces that are specifically for people of colour, which tend to be dominated by experiences I cannot relate to. This is not a bad thing, but it is clear to me there needs to be more inclusivity and understanding under the ‘people of colour’ umbrella. 

But it is also such a blessing to listen and learn from people in those spaces, and the sense of welcoming and solidarity you get is unrivalled. At the end of the day, I am so proud of what my mixed identity represents - the journey, struggle, and triumph of my parents, and the many doors that have opened up to me thanks to coming from two rich and diverse cultures. I’ve been able to travel more than most people, I am multilingual, and I have a global perspective that has always been an asset. I wouldn’t change who I am for anything. 

Have you felt a struggle with your identity? If so, how did you deal with it and if you are now at peace with who you are, how did you come to a place of self-acceptance?

I used to get asked stuff like this all the time - do I feel more Brazilian or Montenegrin? Which do I like better? Where is home? I don’t answer these questions now unless I trust the person asking them - why does it matter in the end? I shouldn’t have to prove that I belong to somewhere in order to legitimately claim that identity. When you are a third culture kid like I am, you spend your whole life questioning who you are and where - if - you belong. The crucial difference for me now is that I don’t allow other people to contribute negatively to that personal journey of exploration. I consider my heritage to be central to who I am - so when it is questioned I can experience moments of real insecurity. The imposter syndrome is a constant. I’m still learning how to unpack that, and I think it comes with age and with quickly disengaging from toxic conversations. Finding a community of people who are also mixed is like a breath of fresh air - no one questions where you come from, no one really cares. That’s what has really helped me to make peace with it, the recognition that if there are people out there who take your identity at face value and never try to get you to ‘prove’ it in some way, then ultimately you yourself can learn to be at peace with it.

What advice would you give yourself?

That it will get better! That it doesn’t matter that you don’t look like the girls on TV and in the classroom: beauty is not synonymous with whiteness. Having thick, dark hair all over your body is not a source of shame - do not listen to the people that point out how ugly they think it is. That it’s ok that your name isn’t found anywhere on bookmarks and necklaces and stories and that your surname is hard to pronounce - you’re going to grow up and find people who are just like you, and you’re going to be fine. 

Is there anything more you’d like to say?

Since the EU referendum, I have noticed such an increase in hostility towards ethnic minorities. We were heartbroken when the referendum happened - that morning, I remember my dad looking at me in shock and saying, ‘I feel like an outsider in my own home’. Our lives will not be affected the way other people’s will - Montenegro is not in the EU. But my family are more European than British, and it is impossible not to take the anti Eastern European rhetoric personally - a few weeks after the referendum, a group of young boys spat at my dad and told him that soon people like him would be kicked out. Our neighbours like to loudly talk about how relieved they are that ‘all these foreigners’ won’t  be allowed in soon. These moments have become more commonplace - people don’t bother to hide their disdain for what they see you as, which is foreign.  It brought to the surface something ethnic minorities knew had been simmering to the surface for years, in the ugliest way possible - and it suddenly justified all these xenophobic positions that were once considered morally reprehensible. Let alone our government’s disgusting immigration and asylum seeker policies. Anyone who calls the UK a tolerant country is either blind or ignorant to the experiences of people of colour and ethnic minorities.