I have just returned to London, where I have lived since I was 11 yrs. old.
I have been away for four years, living as an ethnic minority in a monocultural part of the world, amassing a host of stories to tell disbelieving friends. On the whole, I am glad to return.
I shan’t miss some locals’ assumptions that, being a white woman, if I was outside after dark and usually to walk the few metres between my house and the church, (that) I must be a prostitute eager to give them a blow job. I shan’t miss the abuse my priest husband received: the daubing of “Dirty white dogs” in red paint on the church door, the barrage of stones thrown at him by children shouting “Satan”.
He was called a “f***ing white bastard” more than once, though, notably, never when in a…
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