Where do we go from here?
You know, I was born an expat.
You probably also know
that my parents
are the children born just after the wars
in which their parents fought in,
and fled from.
None of us have ever felt like we belonged anywhere.
My paternal grandparents weren’t German –
my grandmother from Latvian aristocracy,
and my grandfather’s mother rising through the echelons of German society from her Russian Jewish roots of Veronezh
– kind of like those modern day socialites,
those Kardashians, only… classier.
And my maternal grandparents weren’t Lebanese,
and forced from their land
because of the Jewish settlers after WWII.
My father was ostracised as a youngster,
called a “Gerry” in primary and secondary schools,
because our surname is German
but the British kids “put up with him”
because he spoke English – he was born in Northumberland, dumb asses.
My mother, a Palestinian refugee, born in Lebanon –
she doesn’t even know her birth date,
because the hospital she was born in burned down.
That leads me to my generation.
England and Wales once gave me a home.
Even if I was called a “sand nigger”,
or “Saddam Hussein”
or “Hitler” – and heiled every time…
I thought I might have found a people
whose sense of humour I finally began to pick up
I thought, even though I know I am different
I thought “we are all one”
and took pride in moments of Great British-isms
but shied away in embarrassment when we voted the Conservatives in
during the last election.
Britain used to be “great”.
The Kingdom used to be “united”.
I would love to say that we are strong,
and we can get through these coming, challenging years.
But there is a part of me that is screaming
that things will never be the same again.
And all I keep wondering is,
where do we go from here?
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