Avril Kay, Finance Caseworker and Mental Health Ally at Ministry of Justice (Legal Aid Agency) writes about her life experience this Black History Month.
Born in distress
I was born in distress in Liverpool in 1980. When my parents arrived at the hospital, they were put in a side room and left. My dad asked for help shouting “My wife is in labour!” several times but was dismissed. When there was a change of staff, a nurse did take some observations and realised that I was in serious danger. My dad was asked to leave the hospital; and he did – I never really understood why he why he allowed his concerns to be ignored and for him to be sent home.
As I have got older, I have understood the barriers that existed. My dad is of mixed race; my Nan was Black-African and my Grandad is Chinese. My dad is a well-educated and articulated man, with a strong sense of what is right and wrong; what is acceptable and unacceptable. However, he can sometimes avoid confrontation for fear of how it may be perceived.
Work twice as hard
Growing up, my dad wasn’t dismissive of my disability, he knew that I had Cerebral Palsy – but he did not see it as a barrier – it just meant that I had to work twice as hard; to walk, talk and grow. I can remember doctors and teachers being shocked at his attitude towards my disability. In my early teens, I started to take the lead in conversations with medical professions (rather than my parents). As third generation British, I expect a good health service and a good education. Although my dad has benefitted from both; it is not something that was ever taken for granted, and this has impacted on his interactions with medical professions. I feel entitled to expect to be taken care of by medical professions, where he considers it a privilege.
I have learnt that he is wary of appearing challenging and avoids confrontation. My dad is an avid Liverpool football fan – and brought me up to be the same. But we didn’t go to the football in the ‘80s and ‘90s because it wasn’t safe. I never really questioned what he meant but always assumed that it was related to the terraces and hooliganism. In recent years, I have come to realise he got fed up with the racism that could occur at the matches – and having to be hypervigilant at all times.
I now understand that he treated my disability as he treated his race – it is who we are; let’s get on and make the best life that we can – and for him that was to fit in as much as possible and to defend yourself with knowledge and intellect.
Sense of belonging
I did follow this path, until fairly recently, when I joined out Race Network, BeUnique and learnt the power of community and speaking up/being heard. I been supported by the LAA Disability Network for many years before I thought about joining the Race Network, and received practical and emotional support. However, joining the BeUnique has given me a real sense of Belonging and allowed me to bring my ‘whole self’ to work and feel accepted for who I am, which has in turn allowed me to progress in my career.
These has led me to have conversations with my dad about Race and I have realised how much he has sheltered me from the racism he faced: how it impacted on many decisions such as holiday destinations, visiting public attractions. I used to think that maybe it was to do with access reasons, but I found this difficult to accept from the man who told me that I was capable of anything if I put my mind to it; the man who had made me believe that I could do anything – if I just tried hard enough.
Now I realise my dad was protecting me from the racism and the prejudice he had faced growing up.
