Black British Identity, African American Innovation, and the Question of Global Representation
Growing up Black and British means living in a cultural space that is both connected and disconnected—connected to ancestral roots through family and diaspora, yet disconnected from global recognition when compared to African American culture. The distinction between African Americans and Black Britons is not only historical but also cultural, and it explains why our global influence manifests so differently.
For African Americans, history was violently interrupted. Most cannot trace their lineage beyond slavery, as languages, religions, and flags were stripped away (Gilroy, 1993). That cultural amputation created an urgency to invent: African American Vernacular English (AAVE), soul food born of necessity, musical genres like jazz, hip-hop, and blues, and even cultural symbols like the Pan-African flag. Out of survival came innovation, and those innovations grew into globally dominant forces. When people think of Black culture on the world stage, they often mean African American culture, because it was forged in a crucible of invention.
Black Britons, however, do not feel that same urgency. For many of us, especially millennials, we are first or second generation Africans or Caribbeans. Our parents and grandparents are the direct link to ancestral traditions. I heard my dad speaking Yoruba to my grandmother and uncles. My mother, to this day, still speaks creole at home. I waved not just the Union Jack but also Nigerian and Guyanese flags. I grew up eating jollof rice and curry with roti, hearing Magic System or P-Square blasting at African house parties, and attending lively African Pentecostal churches in London. Where African Americans had to invent culture to fill a void, we inherit ours directly. This continuity enriches us, but it also explains why Black British influence has been more local than global. Our impact is still tied to our ancestral cultures rather than wholly new inventions (Hall, 1990).
The way we experience racism also differs. In America, racism often shows itself in its most brutal and overt forms: police shootings, mass incarceration, and systemic exclusion that is violently enforced (Alexander, 2010). In Britain, racism tends to be quieter but no less damaging: microaggressions in the workplace, casual undermining, and institutions that wear civility as a mask while quietly excluding us (Essed, 1991; Olusoga, 2016). In America, racism is a gun in your face. In Britain, it is death by a thousand cuts. Both are suffocating, just in different keys.
I experienced this firsthand at university. I had worked tirelessly on a Business Management with Japanese degree, and I knew my grades inside out. I kept an Excel spreadsheet of every mark across my four-year course and had already calculated my final standing. So when my diploma arrived marked as a 2:1, I knew something was wrong. I told my dad, who was furious, and I called the university to challenge it. After some hesitation, they admitted they had “forgotten” to grade one of my final exams. When regraded, my result was corrected to a First with Honours—the grade I had earned all along. I often wonder: what if I hadn’t noticed? What if I had just accepted what was given to me? That “forgetfulness” could have cost me opportunities and recognition I deserved. In Britain, racism and institutional neglect often wear the mask of “oversight,” but the effect is the same: you are denied until you fight for your rightful place.
This story captures the difference between African American and Black British struggles. African Americans were denied everything and so built culture anew; Black Britons often inherit culture but must wrestle with being minimized, ignored, or quietly erased in the institutions we move through. Both experiences are rooted in the same global anti-Blackness, but they produce different strategies of survival and expression.
For me, being Black and British means holding on to the richness of inherited culture while navigating a system that constantly tests whether I will notice when my achievements are downgraded or dismissed. It means existing in the shadow of African American global dominance while knowing that our own voices are still finding their footing on the world stage. And it means recognizing that whether through invention or inheritance, Black people across the diaspora are united by the fight to be seen in the fullness of our humanity.
References
Alexander, M. (2010). The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. New Press.
Essed, P. (1991). Understanding Everyday Racism: An Interdisciplinary Theory. Sage.
Gilroy, P. (1993). The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. Verso.
Hall, S. (1990). “Cultural Identity and Diaspora.” In Identity: Community, Culture, Difference. Lawrence & Wishart.
Olusoga, D. (2016). Black and British: A Forgotten History. Pan Macmillan.
