I grew up in South Wales. People don’t always realise how textured it is, Tiger Bay especially; it’s of the oldest multicultural communities in the UK. It’s British in that Brit(ish) way: you belong here, but you’re always kind of next to it too. My family’s a blend of Yemeni, Welsh, Arab and South Asian influences. A motley mix of last names, hair textures, collected prayer rugs all sprinkled with a healthy dose of Western pop culture.
My great-grandfather came from Yemen in the 1950s - he made clothes, mixed tinctures, taught Arabic, and celebrated Eid in the streets. Right there in the middle of coal mining Wales. That’s not the image you get when you picture South Wales, but it’s ours (any many others) Welsh history.
In this poem cast, I’m starting to piece it together. Talking through family photos, paintings, memories. Love as a tool for migration. Marriage as a way cultures blend. It’s interfaith, it’s messy, it’s real. It’s the stuff that made me, my siblings, and a whole wave of generations whom call Britain their home.
Family photos, top, my Grandma and the gals in Cardiff, below, my father being crowned Prince Charming by my Great Grandfather
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