In his article regarding the concept of English identity, Jason Okundaye resonates with my own journey as an individual from an ethnic minority background (“Of course you can be English if you’re not white. So why can’t the right leave the question alone?”, 26 September).
As a child in the diverse city of Leicester during the 1990s and early 2000s, I often faced disapproval from authority figures—predominantly white—when I expressed my desire to identify as English. This label seemed off-limits to me, implying that my skin color disqualified me from claiming it. Consequently, I quickly learned that identifying as British was a less contentious alternative.
This situation has always felt unjust to me. I often ponder how many generations would need to pass before my family could be deemed “English” enough. I cherish my homeland, and when I travel abroad, my English identity is never questioned; so why does my country struggle to acknowledge my identity?
I believe experiences like mine shed light on why many ethnic-minority adults lean towards identifying as British rather than English. This preference emerges from a history of being marginalized and the desire to avoid futile discussions with those who can’t look past racial differences. Maariyah Seedat, Toronto, Canada
Considering my family’s heritage, which includes Norman French, Dutch, and Huguenot French surnames, and the fact that we have likely resided in England since our arrival, it may seem peculiar that I view myself as British rather than English, despite being born in London.
My perception of Englishness is often linked to the rigid upper classes living in rural areas, or to individuals involved in diplomatic roles or working-class neighborhoods characterized by homogeneity. None of these descriptions resonate with my identity. I have a deep appreciation for the diverse British cultures encompassing Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Cornwall, the West Indies, Pakistan, Australia, India, Bangladesh, New Zealand, Canada, Africa, and the United States, as well as both western and eastern Europe.
Defining oneself simply as English feels overly confining. I take pride in identifying as British, just like my neighbors. Mark James Slater, Helston, Cornwall
Jason Okundaye raises the question, “Can you be English and non-white?” The government’s own ethnic coding system from the 2021 census suggests the answer is no. “English” is categorized solely under white, making it impossible to identify as, for example, Black English; however, one can identify as Black British.
This inherent racial bias within the definition of “Englishness” is embedded in the coding framework until the term is reclassified as a cultural identity, rather than purely a biological one. Dr. Richard Seabrook, Beckenham, London
Although Okundaye asserts that there is no singular, historically fixed population from which today’s “English” descend, he overlooks a more significant point. While I can assume responsibility for my roles as a grandfather, father, husband, researcher, and writer, I cannot take credit for the overarching structures that shape my actions. Born in Canterbury, Kent, I am English by birth, as indicated on my birth certificate dated 20 October 1938. My nationality and gender are facts beyond my control.
Thus, I neither take pride in nor feel ashamed of being English; it is simply a matter of fact. This perspective means I cannot judge others based on their nationality or gender alone. The right’s emphasis on lineage and biological inheritance is unfounded and misguided. Alan Baker, Cambridge
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