mcmentalonthemic
Iron
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- Sep 23, 2023
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Multiple times in my life as a kid white people have tried to convince me I'm one of them.
In the environment I grew up in, the ethnic composition was fairly binary—most immigrants were either Polish (unambiguously white), Pakistani (clearly brown), or, on rare occasions, Black. As a Kabyle Algerian—same ethnicity as Zinedine Zidane—I found myself in a liminal space. I wasn’t quite brown, but I wasn’t white either. I recall my father once telling me quite bluntly that I am not white and that white people would never truly accept me. At the time, I found this perplexing, but in retrospect, his words are understandable, especially after observing how many Algerians desperately assert “saar I am white saar.”
Interestingly, my father wasn’t entirely correct. On numerous occasions during my youth, whiteness was ascribed to me, almost forcibly, by white peers. One moment stands out from secondary school: I mentioned to a friend that I wasn’t Scottish. A so-called “popular” (delinquent) student overheard and interjected—“What are you then?” I replied, “Algerian.” He immediately asked, “Were you born there?” When I said no, he retorted, “You’re basically Scottish, mate.” Another joined in, reinforcing this unsolicited assimilation. Similar scenes played out in primary school. When I once described myself as “tan”—the only word I had at the time to represent my in-between identity—a classmate immediately shut it down with a flat, “You’re white, mate,” as if to say: Stop trying to be different.
Rise in Migrant stories and it's Result on who's percieved as white.
Fast-forward to around 2022, and the sociocultural landscape had transformed dramatically. Media coverage on migration surged—saturated with sensationalist headlines: “Algerian migrant stabs French boy,” “Algerian asylum seeker assaults young girl.” As a child, when I told people I was Algerian, they’d often mishear it as “Nigerian” and were perplexed by my lack of Blackness. Now, when I say I’m Algerian, there’s no confusion—everyone knows. And interestingly, when I state that I’m not white today, no one challenges it. In fact, I strongly suspect that if I did claim whiteness now, the same people who once insisted I was white would correct me: “No, you’re not.”
I don’t mind no longer being seen as white—identity is not something I feel compelled to police—but it’s fascinating to observe how perceptions of race shift under the influence of media and sociopolitical narratives. What qualifies as "white" is far more fluid—and manipulated—than many would like to admit.
Growing up Kabyle Algerian, I was often told by white peers that I was “basically one of them,” despite not identifying as white or brown. My father warned me that whiteness would never fully accept me. Over time, especially since the rise in negative media around migrants, perceptions shifted. Now, people accept that I’m not white—and would likely reject me if I claimed to be.
In the environment I grew up in, the ethnic composition was fairly binary—most immigrants were either Polish (unambiguously white), Pakistani (clearly brown), or, on rare occasions, Black. As a Kabyle Algerian—same ethnicity as Zinedine Zidane—I found myself in a liminal space. I wasn’t quite brown, but I wasn’t white either. I recall my father once telling me quite bluntly that I am not white and that white people would never truly accept me. At the time, I found this perplexing, but in retrospect, his words are understandable, especially after observing how many Algerians desperately assert “saar I am white saar.”
Interestingly, my father wasn’t entirely correct. On numerous occasions during my youth, whiteness was ascribed to me, almost forcibly, by white peers. One moment stands out from secondary school: I mentioned to a friend that I wasn’t Scottish. A so-called “popular” (delinquent) student overheard and interjected—“What are you then?” I replied, “Algerian.” He immediately asked, “Were you born there?” When I said no, he retorted, “You’re basically Scottish, mate.” Another joined in, reinforcing this unsolicited assimilation. Similar scenes played out in primary school. When I once described myself as “tan”—the only word I had at the time to represent my in-between identity—a classmate immediately shut it down with a flat, “You’re white, mate,” as if to say: Stop trying to be different.
Rise in Migrant stories and it's Result on who's percieved as white.
Fast-forward to around 2022, and the sociocultural landscape had transformed dramatically. Media coverage on migration surged—saturated with sensationalist headlines: “Algerian migrant stabs French boy,” “Algerian asylum seeker assaults young girl.” As a child, when I told people I was Algerian, they’d often mishear it as “Nigerian” and were perplexed by my lack of Blackness. Now, when I say I’m Algerian, there’s no confusion—everyone knows. And interestingly, when I state that I’m not white today, no one challenges it. In fact, I strongly suspect that if I did claim whiteness now, the same people who once insisted I was white would correct me: “No, you’re not.”
I don’t mind no longer being seen as white—identity is not something I feel compelled to police—but it’s fascinating to observe how perceptions of race shift under the influence of media and sociopolitical narratives. What qualifies as "white" is far more fluid—and manipulated—than many would like to admit.
Just to say, My parents are not immigrants, they are well off, they just made me grow up in Scotland because Algerian school qualificaitons can only get you into an international university if you get giga great results whilst for UK, you just need good results. I am probably in Scotland only 2 months of the year during spring/summer to visit friends.
So please no save evropa shit in replies
So please no save evropa shit in replies
TL;DR:
Growing up Kabyle Algerian, I was often told by white peers that I was “basically one of them,” despite not identifying as white or brown. My father warned me that whiteness would never fully accept me. Over time, especially since the rise in negative media around migrants, perceptions shifted. Now, people accept that I’m not white—and would likely reject me if I claimed to be.
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. Sry didn't catch that scottish part. Mi inglesias is baad saar.
