Coconuts and Connections: Understanding Racism in Everyday Life

Growing Up with Racism
I grew up in the 80's and 90's, encountering my fair share of racism—from witnessing British people deliberately insulting my dad’s culture and appearance to almost being run over by a certain member of E17, shouting for me, the “fat Paki,” to get out of the road. I know how much it hurt then and how much it still does now.

Over the years, I’ve seen some changes in Britain, yet fear of these changes lingers for many people. In a perfect world, we would embrace diversity, learn from each other’s cultures, and work together to build a better society—yet that still feels far from reality.

Today, we’re still fighting to be seen and validated. Religion, politics, values—all these things divide us, and many seem at a loss as to how to connect. As a result, it’s all too easy to take offence at everything. At forty, I have grown weary of it all.

Being British but Never English
Yes, I’d love to be someone who truly believes I “don’t see colour.” But everywhere I go, I am reminded that I am brown, that I must choose a cause and fight. I don’t want that. I want to live with good values and attract people who treat me the same way—irrespective of my race.

I was born in England, and I see myself as British, though I have never called myself English. I fear someone will say, “No, you are not.” On forms, I tick “Pakistani,” yet the only traditionally Pakistani thing about me is my skin colour. In fact, I was the only Asian girl in my school who got a GCSE in Urdu below a grade A! I barely passed with a C, likely because the teacher helped me in my speaking exam. When I was five, my father asked my mother to stop teaching us Urdu, fearing we’d be bullied for having “strong Asian accents,” as he had been. That decision helped me integrate. I’m grateful my parents made the effort to blend into Western culture without losing the culture they loved. It worked for them; for me, not as much—perhaps why I eventually left home. But for them—aside from the racism—they were happy. My dad often said, “It’s their country; we came here, so we need to respect them.”

As a result, I rarely spoke up about the racism I encountered. Instead, I carried the trauma silently.

Casual Racism in Everyday Life
When asked, “Where are you from?” I’ve always answered “London.” I know it will lead to more questions, but it’s better than saying “Pakistan” and being grilled about things that have little to do with me. Usually, the follow-up is, “But where are you really from?”—as if I owe an explanation for my skin colour. How boring. If you truly want to connect, accept my first answer: I’m from London! Don't pry if someone seems uncomfortable.

Growing up, I often found myself labelled as a “Coconut”—a white person in a brown shell. It was something I heard even from people I dated. While it was usually intended as a joke, it was deeply offensive, bringing with it assumptions and insecurities about who I am and how I am perceived. The label always left me feeling out of place—never quite belonging to one group or the other.

I’ve experienced racism in many forms. There was the time a "mental" man chased me through a station, spitting on me and calling me a “Paki.” Another time, a "mental" woman chased me and my two kids outside a hospital, shouting for us to “go back to our own country.” Then there’s the casual kind: people asking how to make curry, as if “all brown folk” must know, and not leaving me alone when I say I don't have some 100-year-old recipe my ancestors left me. Spoiler alert: I buy my spice mix from Tesco! Or people cautiously telling me they’re “not racist, but…” or showing subtle fear when asking me about my background and how Asian I really am! And in everyday interactions, I am often treated differently, without eye contact or courtesy. It’s painful and I used to brush it off, but now I wonder is it because I am brown and they are not.

Standing Up to Discrimination
I believe we all have a duty to educate others when we see something that doesn’t feel right. I know it can be hard. Often, I am too stunned by these encounters to say anything, walking away upset instead. Only once did I stand up for myself—that man who spat on me went to prison.

Yesterday, I encountered a different form of casual racism. I was in Costa Coffee, treating myself to a cappuccino. I stood in line with five other customers, some ahead and some behind. As I took my card out, the server asked me, “Is your card from England?” Stunned, I replied yes. He said, “Some foreign cards don’t work on our systems.” I paused—he hadn’t asked anyone else this, and my card didn’t look different from the others. The only difference I could see was that I was brown. I walked away, texted some friends, and reflected.

I decided to make a complaint online and went back to the store to speak to the manager—only to discover that he was the manager. I explained I’d made a complaint and asked him to recall our conversation. He remembered and insisted it was a system issue, saying he meant no offence. He became visibly upset, saying he’d never be racist because he was “a foreigner too.”

I explained that this isn't a valid point. I don't call myself a foreigner. I am British and was just trying to buy a coffee. As I spoke, I calmed down and realised he might genuinely have meant no offence and that language barriers contributed to his phrasing. I accepted his apology but saw it as a moment to educate him on the importance of word choice. Perhaps the store could put up a sign saying, “Some cards may not be accepted here.”

The Bigger Questions
This experience raises an important question: Is being a foreigner ever an excuse to say you “can’t be racist?” And what about dating someone from another race—does that mean a person isn’t prejudiced?

In my own family, as the darkest sibling of six, I know that racism exists. Fairer skin and light eyes are celebrated in our culture, while darker skin is often seen as less desirable. Leaving home was a relief, as it allowed me to leave those biases behind, but I was naive to think I wouldn’t encounter them again.

My good friend Mark is very level-headed. He reminds me that “dickheads be dickheads” and that message also encourages me to see them as just that. Perhaps it’s not always a race thing; some people are just rude and, you know, just dickheads.

On a broader scale, remaining neutral or refusing to take sides in a conflict—whether it’s a political issue or a cultural debate—can sometimes be misunderstood. It may even lead others to assume biases, thinking ‘they’re all the same,’ or assigning stereotypes simply because we don’t choose a side. Yet, for many people, the truth is a deep desire for a world free from war and hatred. Most of us long for understanding and empathy to replace divisiveness, even if that isn’t always clear in the heat of a debate. If anything, these situations show how vital it is to communicate our true intentions and values without letting others’ assumptions define us.

Final Reflections
Growing up British and Pakistani has left me with complex experiences of racism, bias, and identity. I am proud of my heritage and comfortable in my British identity, but navigating a world that often expects me to justify or explain who I am is exhausting. I would love to live in a world where I am simply seen for who I am, not the categories I tick on a form.

For those entering the dating world, especially in multicultural or intercultural relationships, it’s essential to approach each person as an individual, free from stereotypes or assumptions. Navigating these sensitive areas requires awareness and openness—examining any biases or preconceptions before they seep into interactions as casual ‘jokes’ or assumptions. If you’re unsure about something, ask with respect and genuine curiosity rather than assuming or relying on stereotypes. Simple acts of mindfulness in words and actions create a space where both people feel seen for who they truly are, building trust and deepening connections without the barriers of prejudice. Building that self-awareness makes all the difference. I am grateful I have a husband who stands up for inequality, not only for what he witnesses but also for me.

If you’ve ever found yourself in similar situations, how do you navigate them? What does being British mean to you? Often, fear of the unfamiliar—be it cultural differences or simply not sharing the same skin colour—can lead to defensive behaviour. Some people have expressed their fears about what is happening in their country, and unfortunately, that fear can manifest as hostility towards others. While it might not always be pleasant, whenever possible, we should strive to educate and cultivate empathy in those moments. Let’s continue these conversations in a way that promotes understanding and compassion.