I remember a while back making a note of an idea to develop a piece entitled ‘All for the Hustle – an intersectional guide to navigating the creative space as a Person of Colour’. At the time it was constructed for a pitch but the more I thought about it the more I understood the importance of articulating the notion behind it.
Growing up I was exposed to an amalgamated culture of Sri Lankan traditions within an Australian society. The nuance to my story is that these traditions were also enmeshed with a religious belief that further made me a minority even in the country of my birth. My family are Christian and on my Dad’s side we are descendants of Portuguese colonisers who invaded our lands in the 16th century. When I was younger I had these romantic notions of how my family’s religious beliefs would have changed over time. Looking back on it now I understand that instead they would have been forcibly converted with little choice in the matter.
When I write and speak of culture I tend to highlight the level of whitewashing that has pervaded our psyches; what I forget at times in that my family’s relationship with colonisation is a complicated one also. My heritage is mixed as are many others and my experience of discrimination as a person of colour is therefore varied.
The importance of highlighting intersectionality even within minority migrant backgrounds adds to a difference of experience. On the one hand some Caucasian people often pat me on the back and express a sense of comfort over a seemingly shared religion. They instantaneously feel less discomfort in not having to try to understand the traditions of an ‘exotic’ belief. But for me, even though my family is Christian, I identify as being agnostic. I find difficulties in accepting the way that I know my family would have been converted all those years ago; by occupation and by the sword.
My surname is another element which seems to be a ‘bridging’ point due the short 5 letter nature of it. Gomes is a much more palatable surname and ‘easier to pronounce’ than say my mother’s maiden name which is Abeynaike. My first and middle names are much the same, Sabene is adapted from the European Sabine and Lucia is easily relatable in a similar way. So for my entire lifetime I have never had to correct someone on how to pronounce my name or pick them up on anglicising it for their own ease.
Growing up I heard so many stories of people of colour feeling like they needed to compromise their own identities in order to assimilate. I made the discovery recently that my own father whose full name is Pemsiri, but is referred to by everyone in my family as Prem offered the name of Peter whenever he had to order something. When I asked him why he did this he explained that it was just easier for people to understand; never thinking that perhaps the onus of ease was not on him but on others to make the effort to say and pronounce his name properly.
Within all of this I understand that the Anglo parallel nature of my name has allowed me a certain sense of warped privilege in an uncomfortable way. I suppose this represents the importance of highlighting yet again that not all people of colour experience life and discrimination in the same way. It reminds us all that we should be careful not to limit the unconscious bias that is felt by people of colour with simply one overarching brush stroke. My experience as a woman of colour is nuanced and experienced differently because of this combination of things. I acknowledge this and continue to tell my story to explain why intersectionality matters.
Sx
I blog for Change. 