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Racism is Tearing Apart My Family

You won’t find his name on the roster of any white nationalist organisation. He’s never participated in Blood and Honour nor gland-handed any KKK member.

Yet he is deeply, viciously racist. Unfortunately, he’s also my relative.

No one knows when nor how he came to hate people of colour. It certainly wasn’t in childhood. Neither of his parents were racist. He seems to have returned from a stint in the Royal Artillery spewing vitriol. Apart from hurling racial epithets, he’s never offered a reason nor clue nor even a pathetic excuse for despising people of colour.

I find it poetic justice then that this man’s oldest grandchild is an adorable little girl with her mother’s blue eyes and her father’s black curls. Half English, Half Ghanaian, she’s the apple of her parents’ eye.

But Granpapa couldn’t be less pleased. While he’ll allow his daughter to visit him, he’s made it clear that she must leave her {racial epithet} husband and {racial epithet} ‘brat’ at home.

Even before he rejected his own flesh-and-blood, Rhys and I had cut ties with him in disgust for his racism, among many other abuses. But not everyone in the family followed suit. Although aware of his racism, they continue to dance attendance, taking great pains to hide their relationships with people of colour from their wealthy, ageing Granpapa.

I find this despicable especially in light of his recent behaviour at a christening for his youngest grandson. When another relative arrived with his beautiful South African fiancée on his arm, Granpapa abruptly stormed out of the church.

Turning her back on her own family, his much maligned wife of fifty years followed him out, reluctant but resolute. After all, he was her ride. How else, she thinks, will I get home? That’s not a house I’d could ever consider ‘home’.

Beyond the vileness of his racism is the sheer stupidity. We are all one blood. The same epidermal melanin pigment that colours the freckles on a Caucasian’s skin is the same pigment that gives a person of colour their lovely hue. Less or more pigment, what’s the difference!?! Neither is superior nor inferior in any way!

But even science won’t change this racist’s mind. Even the splintering of his family won’t soften his hatred. As each successive generation finds love, often with someone of different ethnicity, Granpapa will find more in-laws to ban and more grandchildren to despise. Children who carry his bloodline, his genetics and his name. It matters not. He hates his own flesh-and-blood.

Fissures and fractures continue to split the family. Most of the relatives wink at Granpapa’s racism and bide their time, hoping to be remember in his Will. But there are a few like Rhys and I who find his racism so repulsive they’ve cut all ties, full well knowing their inheritance will go to his sycophants.

‘Let ’em have it’, I told Rhys. ‘I wouldn’t want a racist’s money. It’s like having blood on your hands’ and he agreed.

I thought when I met a dyed-in-the-wool racist they’d be, well, different. Perhaps like one of those American skinheads one sees on telly with a shaved head and racist tatt or two. Instead the face of racism has a Poirotesque waxed moustache, deep laugh lines and can usually be found down t’pub regaling his many mates with one of his tall tales, pint in hand.

They have no idea of the vile hatred carefully hidden in his heart.

Photo by Ian D. Keating

Racism is Tearing Apart My Family

Ivy Blonwyn

Ivy Blonwyn is a Welsh freelance writer and photographer. She and her husband have been trying, unsuccessfully, to start a family for several years. Ivy can relate to the pain, confusion, jealousy and sense of injustice that accompanies infertility. But she also knows the pain of being a step-mother to children who’s vindictive birth mother has systematically employed Parental Alienation to distance them from their birth-father, Ivy’s husband, Rhys. Her articles, often illustrated with her photos, are intended to validate and comfort those who suffer from infertility, Parental Alienation and the pain of sexual abuse. She finds solace in indulging her passion for plein air photography during long tramps with her husband through the fields, hills and castles of Cardiff. Follow Ivy on Facebook at or contact her at [email protected]

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APA Reference
Blonwyn, I. (2019). Racism is Tearing Apart My Family. Psych Central. Retrieved on July 3, 2020, from


Last updated: 22 Nov 2019
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