Friday the First. Thought for the month.

I grew up in London, experiencing racism and bullying in school. I was called Paki more often than British. As far as I know, I have no Pakistani ancestry. I am not a Paki; Hercule Poirot isn't French. 

I have moved on from London and away. I am still seen as foreign but this time, I am either seen as an Italian or Greek woman. I don't feel as cross or feel this is as hurtful as being called Paki.

Being different, some people do not know what to say. Some, on seeing people of colour or different ethnicity would ignore them, at worst cross the road to the other side, refuse to make eye contact if on public transport with no escape until the next station or bus stop. If words are spoke, these are sometimes questions asking, "where are you from?" or, "when are you going home?" I had to pay a bill and did so over the counter at my bank. The bank teller was a lovely lady just like me, of mixed race. Her parents met at university as foreign students in the next town. She was born there. She has been asked those questions, and on one occasion, her manager heard and intervened. "OK, she's from the next town," the manager said in a jokey voice as there can be a bit of local rivalry, before admonishing the customer's attitude. 

I like letter writing because you don't start with stereotypes and prejudice from seeing someone's face. Some people can be put off by what they see (tattoos and even piercings, as well as colour). I think perhaps we all do to some extent but letter writing allows me to get over that hurdle, to allow words with thoughtfulness to come flowing out of the pen, in my own time. It doesn't matter if my written conversation partner is at work, asleep or doing other things, for I will not be disturbing them. They will read the letter when they are ready to, perhaps when I am asleep myself.