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A white family raised me - I learned to love being black

When I was eight or nine, my family started going on caravan holidays. We went to beautiful places like Clacton-on-Sea and Whitstable, but the truth is, I found these holidays depressing. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I often felt the gaze of others, not just because I was usually the only black person in the caravan park, but because I was a little black girl walking around with my white parents.

I was born in a private clinic in London in 1983, to my biological mum, a middle-class Nigerian woman.

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