The Right Sort of Girl

by Anita Rani

  All the non-Indian guests headed straight from the Gurdwara to the hotel reception, wondering where everyone else went. This is the moment all the wedding guests have a costume change. Weddings are an opportunity to display your finest outfits, so costume changes are essential. Bhupi took off the turban, shaved off his beard and changed into his sleek Ozwald Boateng suit, and looked like a different groom. The party was about to kick off but not until the newlyweds finally make their entrance, a full two hours after the wedding ceremony. This entrance was my touch and a first at an Indian wedding in Bradford: we came in dancing behind The Bollywood Brass Band. A 14-piece brass band with two booming Indian dhol players, blowing out Bollywood classics. I’ve never seen an Indian wedding party turn into a rave, with aunties and uncles and sarees and turbans bouncing all over the dancefloor. Finally, I relaxed. All of a sudden, I was having the time of my life.

  * * *

  In my family, people have married in all kinds of circumstances, to people from all over the world. We have plenty of people who ‘married out’. English, Puerto Rican, Finnish and Persian, a cousin who eloped, a cousin who married a woman ten years older than them (who had a kid together and then got divorced). What’s intriguing about all these examples is that they were all boys. The girls in our family have all had arranged marriages, until me. I was the first woman to pick who I wanted to marry. Did my family disown any of the boys? That’s not how the system works, boys don’t get disowned.

  I have never regretted my marriage, only the way I was pushed towards it. At the time, I thought, maybe they’re all right. Maybe it is high time I settled down. Whatever that means.

  But I had a life to live, adventures to have, and nowhere in my own personal life agenda was there any mention of ‘settling down’.

  Change the world. Yes

  Have adventures. Yes

  Do something important. Yes

  Get out of Bradford. Yes

  Have a flash riverside apartment. Yes

  Live life to the fullest. Yes

  Get a tattoo. Yes

  Understand Buddhism. Yes

  Have a right laugh. Hell, yes

  Set up a global charitable fund to educate young girls. Yes

  Expand my mind. Yes

  Visit Bhutan (I love mountains). Yes

  Become a carefree eccentric. To come with old age

  Settle down . . . Nope. That’s nowhere on my list.

  You may have deduced by now that my expectations of marriage were also pretty low. You can’t blame me! The examples of marriage all around me weren’t exactly selling the idea. They all seemed devoid of respect, romance or even the basic: love. I have a clear memory of seeing a couple holding hands when I was around five and I was so confused by the vision. Why would two people hold hands like that? Marriage to me just upheld the patriarchy. The boys got the much better deal. Women treated one way and men the other. Once an Asian woman is married, there’s no getting away from expectations and now they come from your in-laws too. People who don’t really know who you are. You are expected to adapt to this new family.

  But I’d carved out my life and I treasured it and loved it. I was happy to just crack on.

  Son-in-laws are treated like gods, just accepted, no matter how disastrous they may be. The only thing I understood about marriage was that it’s a woman’s job to make it work, at all costs, and if it doesn’t work for whatever reason, it’s the woman’s fault. Marriage to me was women putting up with shit, for life, from everyone. I mean, who the hell would want to enter into a system like this willingly? Which is probably why parents start the marriage indoctrination mantra from birth. Brainwashing is the only way to get us down that aisle.

  For the girl who had only ever craved freedom, I felt as though I was walking into a trap. Which is all very complicated and exposing to admit . . . as a married woman. But marriage has also been the only place that has truly helped me explore who I am. What the life I want is, what I will and won’t accept. The older I get, the more I’m challenged, and the more I understand. But my checklist remains the same: I still want adventures and a tattoo and to live my life to the fullest. Now, I’ve got a partner along for the ride, one with a great record collection.

  You Will Be Accepted

  My job now sees me striding around the British countryside filming, milking goats and being chased by hungry cows. Going to places no Asian woman has gone before, on national telly. I find myself getting into conversations about neoprene-lined wellies and I’m on the constant hunt for stylish waterproof trousers. I can report they don’t exist.

  I definitely brought my own street swag to Countryfile. I wasn’t going to change my style to country casual just because I was now in the bosom of pastoral Britain. At the beginning I used to rock up in box-fresh white trainers and the voice of God told me that wellies are the official attire to be worn in a field. I had a pair that I’d bought from a petrol station gathering dust and thought they’d do. What a fool. Wellies designed to splash around in puddles are not going to cut it on a 10-hour shoot day in a field in Scotland. The cold seeps in and your toes may have already dropped off but you are so numb to anything you wouldn’t know. All those romantic notions of the countryside are out. It can be tough out there. I deploy thermals from September through to April. It’s the only way to survive the great British outdoors.

  The biggest trial was one of my early filming trips, right to the heart of rural Britain in Harewood House, just outside Leeds. I was pretty much in the deep crevice of the countryside at the GLA Game Fair. I’ve never seen so many guns, tweeds and red corduroy trousers, and there were flat caps a-plenty. I was terrified. This was the hardcore Countryfile audience, the ones who probably felt the programme had gone a little soft with it now being a popular factual show rather than solely a rural affairs programme. What the hell did this lot make of me on their favourite TV show? Once again, I was the only brown face there. Luckily my childhood conditioning meant I didn’t feel self-conscious, I was hardened to being ‘the only brown in the village’.

  The show entered me into a clay pigeon shooting competition . . . as a total novice. Turns out I have a natural aptitude and I won the bloody competition! As I was walking up the main drag of the fair, a rather rotund, red-faced man, probably in his sixties, wearing bright yellow trousers and a tweed waistcoat walked past me then turned around to look directly at me. Oh God, here we go. This lot are not afraid to say what they really think. Straight-talking Yorkshire folk, remember? He looked as though he was about to tell me off. I stopped breathing for a second, preparing myself for the humiliation.

  ‘You’re doing alreet, lass, you’re doing alreet.’

  Then he turned around and carried on. This was the moment I knew I’d been officially accepted on Countryfile. It really didn’t matter about anyone else’s opinion now. No matter what nonsense I received on Twitter or what people might be saying behind my back, rural Yorkshire had my back! Or at least he did.

  So, what was the reaction to me joining the Countryfile team from others?

  ‘So, what is your countryside experience?’

  ‘Did you know much about the British countryside before the show?’

  ‘You’ll never be Ellie Harrison.’ Which came as a shock, because I always thought I was. Naturally, two women were pitted against each other.

  ‘So, what is your field of expertise?’ Erm, presenting.

  ‘Have you always lived in this country?’ I grew up in Bradford.

  These are just a few of the things said to my face. I can’t even begin to get into some of the nonsense I’ve received via Twitter. Luckily, I have a strong Twitter bullshit resistance forcefield. I try not to get sucked into it, most of the time, but sometimes a racist tweet will trigger me and I have to remind myself to not get into any argy-bargy with a numbskull. If I do respond to an insulting tweet, I’m usually backed up by an army of good folk. This gives me hope. Most people are sane, but to preserve the smidge of sanity I have
left, I generally stay away from Twitter rucks as a rule. Ignore the idiots.

  Presenting Countryfile is a gift. I got a call from the boss of BBC1 and she asked if I fancied doing a piece on it, just one item. It was never part of my plan, but then, as you know I take the opportunities as they come and any kind of plan for my career went out the window years before. I was sent to Cornwall to blow up 10 tonnes of dynamite in a china clay quarry, just in case people didn’t notice me, and six years later, I’m still on the show.

  A warm Sunday night hug of a show, the most popular factual show on national TV, no less. The New York Times once called it ‘pastoral porn’, fascinated by Britain’s love for this rural programme and love for their countryside. It’s a national institution and I find myself at the heart of it. I was once asked by a journo how important it was for Asian Britain that I was on a show like Countryfile and I replied that the Asian community are proud of me wherever I go. This is how I feel. I feel held by them and humbled by their support. I understand what I must represent for them, the importance of young girls watching a brown face like theirs seemingly at the heart of the establishment. It shows that it is possible to achieve your dreams. However, surely it’s more important for the rest of Britain to see a brown woman striding around the British countryside and not self-destructing as soon as the air hits her? A brown and British woman, a Yorkshire lass taking ownership of the land. Having representation on screen isn’t just for the benefit of people who look like me, it’s for the enhancement of all of society.

  When Noma Dumezweni, a black woman, was cast as Hermione Granger in the award-winning stage production of Harry Potter, people were outraged. The character couldn’t possibly be black. They were prepared to believe in wizards and an invisibility cloak, but Hermione Granger, black? No way! Even little black and brown kids put white children at the heart of the stories they write, because they can’t imagine people who look like them being their heroes. We need more colour-blind casting and we definitely need more authentically diverse stories and characters out there to be played. It’s imperative that we start reflecting the society we are and who we want to be, and to not be afraid of upsetting a few narrow-minded, unimaginative troublemaking racists.

  For a long time, I have had the thickest skin. Dinosaur thickness. I have also happily lived in a bubble of positivity. I’ve skipped around with my fingers in my ears, focusing on my own game, with my mum’s mantra ringing in my ears: ‘Be positive, be positive, be positive.’ If I call Mum up with even a slight hint of a bad day, she won’t want to hear anything about it and just sings her mantra down the phone. It does mean I’ve kept a lot of stuff bottled up. So, when anyone says something derogatory, or prejudice is staring me in the face, I choose to focus on something good and always see the positive. I believed, because it was instilled in me by my parents, that if I strove for excellence, I could achieve anything. But it’s not quite so simple in the real world.

  My advice to anyone wanting a career in the creative industries, particularly Asian kids, was always: you only need that one break. It’s a numbers game. Nothing will come to you, nothing will land in your lap no matter how talented you are. You have to get out there and dazzle them with your skills, your mad-crazy brilliant skills. Don’t worry about the negative, stay focused on your game.

  * * *

  Since turning 40, my attitude has changed.

  If you have no connections, if you were not born with a sense of entitlement, if Daddy isn’t the boss or your godfather isn’t the king of the world, if you have no cash in the bank, if you have any level of melanin in your skin, it’s going to be a lot tougher for you to get them breaks. First, every time you go for a job it feels like you are starting from scratch. There is no resting on any laurels. There is no big break, no overnight success. You will have to work hard, steadily and constantly. You will never really have the privilege of feeling like you’ve ‘made it’. Even if you are one of the answers on Pointless. (Yes, I was.) And all of these challenges will make you stronger. They may piss the living hell out of you but overcoming them will give you superpowers. Secondly, if you have been turned down for 10 jobs even though you know you are really good at what you do, there is a problem. And, sometimes, no matter how skilled you are, those in charge won’t always see it. They are blinkered to your badass-ery. There is a fundamental problem with the system.

  Maybe I used to skip around with my fingers in my ears as my own self-preservation method? Knowing if I spent time looking and analysing and thinking about my place in my industry, it would not get me anywhere, because there was no space where I could begin to air my thoughts. I’d be seen as angry and bitter or chippy. I wish I’d opened my eyes sooner. I spent too long wanting to make people happy. To please. Allowing people to put me where they wanted me to be and believing I couldn’t be anywhere else. I kept ploughing on, hustling hard. Mentally drained, but with no choice but to keep going. Because you still cling to the belief that, one day, you will get that break and be able to feel some kind of security, that you will not be defeated by the flipping glass ceiling. You will get what you deserve.

  I wish I’d been braver sooner, but it can be a lonely business. Finally, people are talking about their own experiences. Powerful voices are calling the system out because enough is enough and we want to make a better, fairer and more equal society. Incredible, clever, creative, articulate, talented people are speaking their truth and in so doing are empowering people, myself included, to be able to free our little voices and finally release a bit of the pressure. See Michaela Coel and David Olusoga both giving landmark and powerful speeches at the Edinburgh TV Festival. Riz Ahmed in everything he does, with speeches in Parliament, his movies and music. Edward Enninful taking over as editor-in-chief of British Vogue and overnight changing the face of the magazine. Books like Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge, Afua Hirsch’s Brit(ish), Layla F. Saad’s Me and White Supremacy, Nikesh Shukla and Chimene Suleyman’s The Good Immigrant, Sathnam Sanghera’s Empireland, Akala’s brilliant Natives. Stormzy headlining Glastonbury 2019. Samira Ahmed taking her employer, the BBC, to tribunal over an equal pay dispute (and winning). Artist and filmmaker Steve McQueen. Just look at the momentum from the Black Lives Matter movement, which has had a ripple effect around the world.

  So many others are fighting for a more equal space for all, trying to redress the balance, but I bet they’d all much rather just be getting on with their jobs. Not only do all these people have to be more than brilliant at what they do than everyone else, they also have to be politicised alongside their work, at the risk of pissing off the people that give them the work. The people who still may not understand that we all have a responsibility and a part to play in working towards a society that is equal for all. That’s not going to be easy. It may make you bristle, but we should lean into what makes us feel uncomfortable and ask ourselves questions of how we can all make it better, no matter how hard it will be. And it will be hard.

  I also know the answer to something everyone is looking for – where to find the talent. If you want to track down the next big thing, I’d say you could do a lot worse than head to Yorkshire. Your next best recruit is currently looking out of her suburban window, planning her escape. Go and find her.

  In the meantime, we need to find a way to not let other people have that much control over our lives, careers and ambitions. If you feel your path is blocked in one direction, take another. If they don’t see what you see, find someone who does. This is why we need people from all backgrounds in positions of power. Remember it’s not you, it’s the world around you that is still getting their head around you. You are creating space when it doesn’t exist and it is going to be a struggle, it’s going to push you and challenge you, but every time you are challenged, you grow, it adds to your armour. You have to stay positive and remember the long game. That what you do is so much bigger than you. It’s a battle to change the landscape for everyone else. To ch
ange perceptions so the next generation of brilliant women and men may have to struggle a little less. Until everyone can recognise their unconscious bias, some of us have to keep punching people in the face. Metaphorically.

  I spent too long wanting to please, second-guessing what’s wanted, not being true to myself, having to navigate a space that was never for me. Taking opportunities where they came, even if it wasn’t the exact plan I had for myself. Doing whatever I needed to do to carve out a space, a career. It is bloody exhausting. There will come a time when people of colour in the UK can just produce art rather than having to spend all our creative energy on explaining who we are and why we have a right to exist. I can’t wait.

  Your Anger is Legitimate

  Most of the time, I am very happy and positive – I’m a TV presenter, of course I’m upbeat! Scratch the surface, though, and you’ll see anger. Lots of it. I’m angry we can’t feel compassion for people fleeing for their lives, from war and famine. I’m angry with our lack of humanity. I’m angry because we all buy into labels that seem to define us and hate others as a consequence. I’m angry because we are killing our planet, our wonder of a home. I’m angry that some people feel they have more of a right to it than others. I’m angry about borders and religion. I’m angry men make all the rules, including about women’s bodies and our medical health. I’m angry because all of these things are out of my control.

  I’ve always been angry. I thought I was angry because my dad was angry, and he was angry because his dad was angry. But I’m angry for so many reasons.

  India was forcibly colonised and looted for Britain’s financial benefit. The British first landed in India in 1608 but it was in 1757 when The East India Company essentially took charge and then the Crown took over in 1858.