Immigrants and even their 2nd generation offspring often talk of ‘home’. Over the Christmas period I travelled, with my family, to my ancestral home, Lagos, Nigeria.

Although I have been to Nigeria several times before, this time, more than any other I was struck by how alienated I was from the cultural norms. Although I shared the same skin looks and skin colour, I was instantly recognisable as being an outsider; I walked too fast, spoke too slowly and softly and dressed too outlandishly, although in London my dress would be considered conservative.

In many ways, I was home, surrounded by family; grandparents, aunties, uncles, parents, cousins there was a sense of belonging to an extended kin network but there was not a sense of truly belonging, how I belong here in England, in terms of my cultural knowledge and understanding.

I suppose what this trip really highlighted to me is that I, along with thousands of other offspring of immigrants, don’t have a sense of truly belonging anywhere.

In England, my colour sets me apart and I am deemed by many as an outsider. In Africa, my experience and socialisation sets me apart and again I am deemed an outsider.

By Fisayo Fadahunsi