Cornelius Ndubuisi, East London – a reflection of past experiences and what racial justice means to me today
Growing up in Nigeria, a country with countless ethnic groups, I understood tribalism well. But it wasn’t until I moved to London a little over two years ago that I fully grasped racism. Subtle but persistent, it showed up in everyday interactions—people assuming I needed basic instructions on how to use a service, explaining terms and conditions as though I couldn’t read, or over-explaining things in a way that felt patronizing. They were trying hard not to be racist, yet their inability to look beyond my skin colour made them exactly that.
What if they knew that English was my first language, that I had lived in Abuja and Lagos—cities as modern as any in the world—before moving here? That I had traveled extensively in Nigeria before ever boarding a flight to London? That I completed a master’s degree in Nigeria with first-class honors and earned a distinction in another here? Even a bank teller, upon seeing my account balance, seemed surprised—her tone shifting to something more pleasant afterward.
Today, racial justice, to me, is a society where people are truly colour-blind—a world where skin tone neither privileges nor limits anyone. It means being seen for who I am, not for assumptions based on my race. Racial justice means not, literally, seeing the colour of my skin. It means a world where people look at me and see a person—not a stereotype.
My hope for the future is that there can be a world of true colour-blindness.
An advocate for racial justice and a Permanent Deacon for the Archdiocese of Southwark.
A reflection on the welcome extended to Ukrainians fleeing to the UK after the full-scale invasion.
