My law-abiding, tax-paying family did everything to make Britain feel like home. Now they feel vulnerable

Ayesha Hazarika
Ayesha Hazarika25 April 2018
WEST END FINAL

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I used to joke in my stand-up routine that post-Brexit, I was really worried that my dad was going to get deported — mainly by my mum. And that they were really worried about travelling because they were scared they wouldn’t be allowed back into the country they loved the most — which is Spain. Those slightly crap jokes don’t seem quite so funny any more in light of the Windrush scandal.

These heart-breaking cases have moved many people to tears but sent a shiver down the spine of anyone who is an immigrant or the child of one, because it confirmed that dark niggle that you were only ever here temporarily and that eventually they would tell you to go back to where you came from (insert your own Glasgow/Wolverhampton gag).

Fifty years from Enoch Powell’s Rivers of Blood speech and 25 years on from the racist murder of Stephen Lawrence, the uncomfortable truth is that this country is still not at ease with immigration and race relations. Of course we have made progress.

We have more black and brown MPs plus a Muslim mayor, interracial marriage is no longer frowned upon and that lovely Nadiya won Great British Bake Off. But we have a long way to go make people feel welcome here and to make them feel like they truly belong.

India is a faraway country full of wonder and intrigue for me but Britain is my home. But how to find your place here can be hard. The yoke of being an immigrant involves a lot of trying to fit in and failing; hiding your heritage because people fear it or find it odd; and making your poor children do weird things to integrate.

My parents really went for it. On a Saturday morning, I would learn how to read the Koran and then my mother would drive me to Scottish country dancing lessons where I kind of stood out. And don’t even start me on the mental scars of being the only brownie at the Brownies … But they were trying hard to make sure we were the “good immigrant” family “playing by the rules”, as politicians love to say.

The logic was if you worked hard, which is why you were invited here, were assimilated, paid your taxes and kept out of trouble, there would be none. That was the deal. And you could exist in happy invisibility from the state, because being noticed as an immigrant rarely ends well.

But that social contract has been shattered by the Windrush scandal. Those men and women who, like my parents, did everything right are now fighting to be British and to stay on this soil.

My parents are terrified by this story even though their paperwork is all up to date unless they’ve gone mad with the shredder. There but for the grace of God, they said — although my dad’s so sick of the weather up in Glasgow that if they offered him a business-class flight back to India he might just take it.

Spare me the new Konscious Kardashian

Kourtney Kardashian is planning to hit Washington DC. I’m praying this isn’t the precursor to “At the White House with the Kardashians” but maybe it would be an improvement … “Hey, Kimmy — wanna bomb Syria later?” “OMG, I totally can’t today … I gotta work out, contour and post some naked selfies. Tomorrow?”

Getting lippie: Kourtney Kardashian
Dave Benett

Kourtney is off to Washington to lobby members of Congress to regulate and reform laws on cosmetics. She and her half-sister, Kylie, have just launched a make-up collaboration and apparently Kourtney is passionate about using environmentally friendly produce and natural ingredients. This is commendable but isn’t making sure your lippie is gluten-free slightly hypocritical when your family has been a global fiscal stimulus for the plastic surgery industry?

I can think of many words to describe the undeniable beauty of the Kardashian sisters — but natural ain’t one of them.

* The UK will hold its first conference on hoarding later this year. Experts say the condition is becoming a public-health issue. Tell me about it. I have so much clutter that I decided to take action.

I used a neighbourhood app to advertise some stuff I was giving away. There was a flurry of interest and I found myself messaging people saying “it’s gone — so sorry for your loss”. I felt like Lady Bountiful. When people turned up to collect the items, I was expecting love, gratitude or at least a posy of flowers … There was none. “Does the remote work?” they’d say. “Do you need an aerial?” Then they were gone. With my telly.

The final insult came when I saw one of my jackets in a charity shop.

I asked why it was so cheap. “Well, it’s nice but a bit old-fashioned, I guess …” Bloody cheek. It took all my willpower to not buy it back. I can see why people hoard.

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