Online Reporter
Robson Sharuko
H-Metro Editor
TEENAGE schoolgirl Mikaylah Mushinga says in her book, ‘‘I’m More Than The Black Girl’’ she mainly poured out her emotions, anger and hurt.
In the final chapter of her book, in which she chronicles the difficult path she has travelled since arriving with her family to settle in England, she realises she didn’t highlight her happy moments.
“When I started writing this book, I poured out my emotions, the anger, the hurt, the frustration. But never the happy, never the goodness that exists in a world full of the bad.
“I guess I didn’t see it at first but now I notice it. Like that moment they finally accepted me. I knew deep down I wasn’t one of them, maybe I never will be, but for a second, it felt like I was one.
“Like, maybe, I belonged. Or the moment I realised they didn’t care about me as much as I cared about them and, weirdly, that was a relief.
“That realisation freed me, if they didn’t care, I didn’t have to either. I didn’t have to keep bending myself to fit where I was never meant to, that was good, that was growth.
“Even my cousins had their ‘freshie’ phase, treating me like an outsider, a label thrown around like a joke but it cut deep. Still things changed, slowly, now the jokes are softer, the energy different.
“I don’t know if they fully accept me but they’ve let me in, in their own way, and maybe that’s enough for now.”
She adds: “And, when secondary school started, I looked around and realised everyone’s different here, no one’s trying to be the same and suddenly I didn’t feel like the odd one out anymore.
“The shift really started when my dad asked me a question. He’d just read one of my chapters and told me it was good and then said, ‘Have you ever thought about how it was for them?’
“It made me think more deeply about how we would have behaved if a white girl had been thrown into our class from a faraway world.”
“I know how that would have turned out. She would have been my best friend. But there are always a few bad apples that would have made her life hell.
“And, maybe, that’s also why I miss my late grandmother so much. She never made me question how she felt about me. In the back of my mind, paradise is always there – the promise that Jehovah will awaken the dead and we’ll meet again.
“The reason I miss her most is because I know I won’t see her again in this lifetime. Even if I go back to Zimbabwe.
“In the back of my mind, paradise is always there — the promise that Jehovah will awaken the dead and we’ll meet again. In the back of my mind, paradise is always there — the promise that Jehovah will awaken the dead and we’ll meet again.”
She says she now has friends in England.
“I have friends. Two stand out right now, Jasmine and Izabela — they never stop showing up for me, whether I’m smiling, silent or falling apart, they are there.
“That kind of loyalty means everything to me. I don’t have to ask twice, I don’t even have to speak sometimes, they just get in.
“Then secondary school came and I finally got more black girls, some Zimbabweans, too. Sometimes we speak Shona in front of people just to remind ourselves that we van, that our language is real, that our identity is loud and rooted.
“It annoys some people but it empowers me. Most of my friends are white, they don’t fully get it, not yet but I see them trying, learning, asking, listening and I’m proud of that.
“When someone steps out of their comfort zones for you, to understand you, that’s real friendship.
‘‘That’s what the good looks like now. I have an education, it feels normal. I have learned that 250 million children around the world don’t have access to it, I realise it’s a gift, a treasure.
“School in the UK is different from Zimbabwe. Here teachers are gentle — warnings, detentions, meetings with parents, there are apps that tell my parents how I’m doing, when I’ve done well or when I’m struggling.
“In Zimbabwe, it’s tougher. Teachers hit you when you step out of line. Parents only get involved for something really bad or really good. When I first arrived here, I was scared — new system, new people but finally I settled.
“I struggled at first but then I started doing well, really well.”
She adds: “One of the most emotional moments was when my three Year 6 teachers signed my shirt on the last day. I cried when I got home because they were kind, because I’d made it because O finally felt seen.
“I love the simple things — family barbecues, catch-ups that fill the quiet spaces, calls and group chats that keep us close even across miles. Those are things that matter.
“The biggest realisation? I’ve always had more support than I thought. I just didn’t always see it. I’ve always had people who love me, believe in me, and lift me when I’m down. That support carried me further than I realised —0 and for that I’m truly grateful.”
This is our final extract from Mikaylah Mushinga’s book ‘‘I’m More Than The Black Girl.’’
Mathew Masinge