Lisa-Marie: Hey, welcome everybody. It's lovely that you're here. Welcome to the FiLiA Legacy Project, the Book Club. We are very honoured to be speaking with Esua today, and hopefully you'll have all read her wonderful book, The Space Between Black and White.

 I'm Lisa-Marie, I'm one of the volunteers with FiLiA, we're a women's rights organisation, and I'm just going to introduce Esua now before we start. Welcome everybody.

 So, Esua is a Black mixed-race author, campaigner, and facilitator. She was born in the 1950s in South London to a white, working class, disabled single mother. She has a string of firsts to her name, so make yourself comfortable.

 First Chair of the Fawcett Society, co-founder of the Gender and Development Network. First representative of women's organisations on the government delegation to the United Nations Conference in Beijing in 1995.

 She was the first Black president of Leicester University Student Union and was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University in 2015, in recognition of her work in international women's human rights. Leicester University unveiled a special portrait of Esua to celebrate International Women's Day and the centenary of the women's vote in 2018.

 In 1995, Esua founded the Anona Development Consultancy to work in the not-for-profit sector as a facilitator, trainer, and strategist. She's worked with over a hundred organisations all over the world, and she's now a director for the Healing Solidarity Feminist Collective, and active in the Black Lives Matter movement. Welcome, Esua. 

 Esua: Thank you. 

 Lisa-Marie: When we first connected, we had what I would call an immediate bond, and I was trying to remember where we first met so I could share it with the listeners, and I realised, you know what, we haven't actually met yet. A close connection. Yes. And I'm really looking forward to finally meeting in real life when everything's settled.

 And I have to say, hand on heart, I mean, your book is quite extraordinary. I think it’s beautifully written and I found I wanted to rush through it to find out what happened next, but I also wanted to take my time and savour the beautiful words that you've written. And it is absolutely a gift to the world, and I want to thank you deeply for writing it.

 So I want to start by asking, “what finally led you to decide to put pen to paper, in what is a visceral, open and raw book, and could you share something of the emotions in doing so?”

 Esua: All right, thank you. Well, thank you for that wonderful introduction, Lisa-Marie, I honestly feel as if I have known you for years, I've not known you.

 It's amazing how we've got used to forming relationships, you know, online. And we can do it, and it's not the same as the real thing, but I think feminism and sisterhood works across the ether. And it's great to be connected to all my sisters all over the world. And in some ways, I suppose, you know, I've connected with a lot more people through lockdown.

 So, thank you for reading my book and I'm so thrilled that you actually enjoyed it and thank you to all the people who've come tonight and, you know, hoping they've enjoyed it too, and I think… it's one of these things, I actually wrote it in this shed, which is at the bottom of my garden. It is my office for my consultancy. But I, sort of, turned it into my writing room, and I guess I wrote for years and I wrote in diaries and in journals and in articles and so on.

 So I, kind of, wrote a lot and I suddenly felt this urge, I don't know, about four years ago now, I suppose, to really finish it. I just felt that the mixed-race identity was so important and there was so much coming up about it, it was much more in the news.

 And what’s more, when I was a kid I was, like, an only one. There were very few people who were mixed-race and, you know, now there's several million mixed-race – well, say several million, there's millions all over the world, but in this country, I don't think they know how many, but certainly there's a couple of million, and a lot of them very young children. And I wanted to do this for, kind of, our generation, to say, “we got a history and we’re the real deal.”

 So yeah. How was it to actually write it? Well, I think if you are writing a memoir, it's quite difficult, because you’re talking about your own family. It's not just your story, it's everyone else's story and they've all got a different version of it that they think is the official one, you see.

 So there's, “that didn't happen to you, that can’t have happened to you,” you know, sort of, gaslighted all the time. So it was quite a challenge. And also, I've lived a long life and so it is a bit of a thick book, and what to leave out as well. I mean, some people were upset cause they were in it and they didn't want to be in it. Some people were upset cause they got left out of it.

 But what I did was, I used not just my diaries, but, you know, some of the outfits that I describe in the book. I've still got them; I never throw anything away. So my teenage outfits, I've got some of them. So it's all archives. So you don't just do it from memory, and once you turn that tap on, I was dreaming about people, I've forgotten all sorts of things.

 So it was an emotional rollercoaster of a journey and I had to lay myself bare. But unless you are prepared to tell yourself the truth, you don't know the meaning of your life. And once I'd written it down, it's somehow got a life of its own.

 And now I've been invited to talk about it, I see connections that I just didn't realise. When you just live your life, you go on, and it is, sort of, like, a whole load of disjointed events, but when you actually look at the patterns, it's an incredibly exciting privilege. But it is tough. It really is tough too. 

 Lisa-Marie: It's an extraordinarily rich book, actually. Lynn says: “So good to be here. Looking forward to hearing you, Esuantsiwa,  after reading your story.” Hi Lynn!

 So what has it been like, to have your book published during lockdown, and being one of the 20 in 2020 Black writers published by Jacaranda, which I have to say is the only publishing house with an all-Black women's staff and leadership?

 Esua: Yeah. Oh, well, I was so lucky, honestly. I got turned down by some of the big, you know, white publishers, who didn't understand the book, said, “write it all in the past tense, from the point of view of your mother, that'll really sell.” You know, you think, “what!”

 So, actually, I was really lucky that I came at the right time for Jacaranda and I think Jacaranda, rightly recognised that there's only, like, something like, under 1% of all books in this country are written by Black authors or feature a Black character, which is just minuscule.

 And all the time, the white publishers are saying, “oh, well if Black people could write, we'd publish it. There just aren't any, you know?” So they said, “yes, there are.” And they did a nationwide competition, and I went in for it, to find 20 Black writers to publish in 2020. Great idea. Difficult year to do it.

 What did we think? This time last year, we're all excited, you know, our books are going to be published, we were going to hit the stage, you know. And it has just been really difficult. But the same time, I mean, I was one of the first to be published, actually, in February, and we could sort of see there might be a lockdown, but it was in Italy and you know, who knew.

 And so it was just enough time for all my books to go into the bookshops and get locked down. So for a while, none were sold at all, until the online sales started coming on. And then I got lots of invitations to come and talk to lovely people, like you.

 And you know, sometimes I'm talking to people all over the world, you know, it's, sort of, right in the chat line, you know, “it's really early morning in Kazakhstan, so it's really nice to see you.” You just… so that’s been really exciting, that somehow I speak to hundreds of people every day and I'm in this little shed and I come out and think, “what?” 

 It's, you know, the opposite of the Tardis. Well, it maybe is the Tardis. You come in and there's this whole big world and it's a multiverse, and I wonder – I don't think I would've got that if I'd been, you know, face-to-face. I just couldn't physically have done it.

 So, in some ways it's been a rollercoaster, it's been exciting and all my best topics that I've been campaigning on all my life, anti-racism, feminism, anti-poverty, equality, all those things are still right at the top of the, you know, of the political agenda. So in some ways, this was the time to write this book.

 So it, sort of, came together in a strange and wonderful way. It's been hell on earth for a lot of people, but I feel, you know, I feel a sense that the message was right and it was getting out here at the right time.

 Lisa-Marie: Thank you. I was at the launch of your book, and absolutely, there were people from all over the world. It was a phenomenal event to be in, actually. Tamara said, “very excited to be here and listen.” Welcome, Tamara!

 Esua: Hey! 

 Lisa-Marie: My next question - and that 1% figure, that less than 1% figure you just quoted is absolutely, I mean, something really, yeah, that needs to change.

 So your book tells us that this sense of justice started, it's very clear throughout the book, it started at a very young age. Can you share to us a little bit about how you began to make sense of this world that you found yourself in, as the only Black child in your neighbourhood on a working class estate in the 1950s, when racial tensions were really high in Britain?

 Esua: Mm-hmm. Yeah. I think, yeah, I felt like an only one. And I think only-ness absolutely sums it up. It's a word that, you know, I wasn't familiar with at the time and haven't been until very recently. I think it really sums up for me how I felt, that wherever I went, I had a sense of, kind of, mistaken identity and feeling that, you know, racial ambiguity, and people not knowing where I came from, constantly being asked to explain myself, my origins, where I came from.

 But I think right from when I was a kid - and funny enough, you know, I was very much darker in skin tone as a child. If you look at those pictures of me in my memoir, and basically there was no one to compare with me with. So, you know, I was as Black as they come, you know, and everybody was using racist names and I was taunted a lot at school, so I really felt like an outcast.

 So I wanted to show in my book that although I came from a really loving family, there was still some ambiguous, you know, ambivalence towards race in my family. My grandmother was very anti-Black, and my grandfather was very much an egalitarian, so I had very mixed messages, literally, about my identity growing up.

 But I can just remember that sense of injustice, that I'd walk out my front door and people would just hit me with, you know, a torrent of abuse and everyone just said, “oh, ignore it, they're just having fun,” you know, “just don't say anything,” and “you'd just make it worse.” It was like either I was ignored, like, invisible, or else I was highly, highly visible. So people didn't mention my colour, or else I got this racial abuse.

 So I think I felt right from a small kid, “this isn't right.” And I just, you know, it was from the time I met that little girl, Kumba, on the common, I just thought, you know, “there are people like me out there, and it's not right that we are treated like this.” And I think that's what drives me even now.

 They say that your formative years, you know, four or five, are really what shapes you as a person. And I just think that was a very, very distinct set of experiences for me, which will never go away and has really driven me into feeling that sense of otherness and, you know, just erasure, and negation, that people suffer, who are like me. And I wanted it to end. Even as a child, I just felt it wasn't right. 

 Lisa-Marie: And that really, it really comes through in the book. And you mentioned the pictures, and I remember starting to read the book and I thought, “oh my gosh, I wish I could see her, I wish I could see her.” And then suddenly the pictures were there and they're absolutely glorious.

 Such an interesting book and an interesting life, that I think, “she hasn't had one life, I think she's fitted 10 into one life, by the sounds of it.” We are limited for time, and I have to say I could listen to you for hours and hours and hours, but we are going to probably have to skip over your school days a bit too quickly, but I do want to mention that it is here that you begin to receive these messages and I think they're really important and informative actually.

 Teachers start telling you that you are really smart. And this is important to you, that you hear this, and you organise your first protest, which is about socks, you've got the wrong pairs of socks and you want these pairs of socks and you're identified as the ringleader and you don't win that particular battle, but I think the scene is definitely set for your future political activism.

 And it's a big question and I really wasn't sure how to ask it, but I do want to ask how your life experiences informed, not only your sense of injustice in the world that you've just talked about, but your attitude, which is one of understanding and empathy, and you see all this connectedness and then you say, “right, what are we going to do about it?” And then what you do is you lead the way. And what happened when you agreed to put yourself forward for the position of president of the university?

 Esua: Yeah, well it's funny cause you make it sound great, I wish I lived that life! But actually, I was considered to be a little bit stupid and borderline. I wasn't considered to be smart at all. In my family, I think, I had a working-class family who rated academic achievement, and my mother was very clever. She was good at exams; she passed her exams and she was really good at absorbing facts and so on.

 And so I was always considered to be ‘borderline,’ that's what they called me, a little bit flaky, and hysterical.

 Lisa-Marie: No!

Esua: This is what they said. You know, this is the impression that people gave me as a child. You know what I mean? That basically the kind of smartness that I had was not fashionable in the 1960s. It was naughty. It was a bit out of control. And you don't talk back to teachers.

 Don't forget, this is a very different world. You know, you talk back to teachers and start saying you are interested in politics, age 13, you are, you know, you are ‘uppity,’ and you've got to do your schoolwork and get on with it.

 So I really had the feeling that I wasn't very good at school and that I really struggled with exams that I was in. I was not interested in anything they wanted to teach me. I felt, you know, negated. And I was doing stuff like writing books and things – ha, who knew? - at 13 when all the others were, kind of, sitting there, you know, reading poetry, which is what you're supposed to do.

 So, yeah, what I felt I was, was a rebel, which was not considered to be a good thing, and especially not for someone my colour and my gender. Because, you know, I've got enough problems, so I should - that's what my auntie says, you know, “you've got enough problems, don't rock the boat,” you know, “just be grateful that you've been taken in, you know, and don't upset your mother.”

 So, that was the kind of zeitgeist, I suppose, at the time. So I never felt that I was good at school or, well, or I could perform well. I thought I was never going to get to university cause I wasn't really good enough. And I think when I got to university, I did exactly the same thing. I thought, “oh, forget about the classes.”

 I mean, I quite enjoyed my degree cause it was a little bit of everything. It was called Combined Arts, and it meant that I could pick a different course from every one of my courses in every department, right? So that was great for politics, because it meant that I knew everybody, I knew all the students from the politics department, the history department, the social sciences, the American studies. So for me this was really, sort of, adding to my political reach. That's why I liked it.

 And I think I was really shocked about being president. I always felt, I got up every day and thought, “I really can't hack this. I don’t know how I got here. And I don't, you know, I don’t know what I'm doing. I don’t know anyone else around me who looks like me. I'm making it up as I go along.”

 And I really felt it was a struggle. I never felt a sense of achievement. I always felt a sense of, “what am I doing here? And some time, someone's going to find me out.” And of course they did, every day. All the white boys, especially the posh white boys from the public school, they were constantly saying to me, “you’re no good at this, what are you doing here?” You know? 

 So I think it’s sort of, I think it's only afterwards that you can see in your life, “well, you know, at least I did something there.” But at the time there's a lot of people who want to undermine you. And I think there's a lot of people listening to this who are thinking, women, thinking, “yeah.”

 You know, you do get undermined a lot, as a woman and particularly as a Black woman and as a mixed-race woman, all the time. You have to be 10 times as good. Well, you have to work 10 times as hard to be thought half as good. I think that's what Obama says, isn't it?

 So, all of these things, you know, looking back on it, it looks good.

 But at the time I was thinking, “what am I doing?” You know, “am I up to this?” 

 Lisa-Marie: …is applied to women, so… 

 Esua: Yeah. So I was laughing when I got to be president and they all came to me and said, “you better be it because you are the only one that can beat the fascists.”

 And I thought, “oh, well there you see, I'm good for something.”

 Lisa-Marie: It's a brilliant, brilliant story. And there's, tell us a bit about, there's a moment in the university when you see a woman being treated quite badly in the hall, sexist abuse. And how do you respond to that? Cause I think it's quite brilliant actually. 

 Esua:  Yeah. Well, I just thought, “I'm not letting them get away with this. We paid our students union dues, same as everybody else.” So I just decided I was going to propose an emergency motion. And they used to be quite well attended, the student meetings at that time, you'd get a few hundred each time, but there was, like, 800 or more, like, the whole hall was packed.

 And I think it was because I wrote, “this house is against sexism.” That was the motion, right? Nobody had heard of sexism at the time, it was a new word from America. So they saw the first three letters and thought, “this’ll be good,” you know. So lots of people came who had never been to a student union meeting before, and the rugby club was there and it was all a lot of show, you know.

 But honestly, the motion got passed and it still, I went to Leicester to do the research for this book, and I looked, they keep all the minutes, and I was looking in there, and there's me, right in that speech. That is the real speech that I gave. I just, you know, it was there in the minutes, and at the end it said, you know, ‘standing ovation’ and all the heckling that went on.

 So it was very live that, so I think that's why people enjoy that bit, because I was able to get to the source material for it. Absolutely. And it's still there. The same policy is still there against sexism. To this very day. Fantastic. 

 Lisa-Marie: I went to Leicester University. I went to Leicester too, and I loved the idea I was in the hall where this happened, and the policy passed, probably had an impact on my life going through university and other women as well. So well done.

 And you came off the stage and they said, “right, now we want you to do that for Black students as well.” So no pressure! So you were very much seen as the heart of politics in the university, which is fantastic.

 So, let me move on now. Sorry. Mixed-race identity is the main theme throughout your book. Could you share a little bit about what must have been a huge mass of contradictory feelings in your life about your sense of identity? At university, but also throughout.

 Esua: Yeah. Yeah. I mean, that is what the book is about really. I wanted to write about what it felt like, to have a mixed-race identity, and to go through as a child seeing the injustice. Being thought of as Black, going through as an adolescent and being involved in the Black Power movement and rediscovering my sense of self and my hair and, you know, just, sort of, feeling a sense of Black pride in that.

 And then going on to university where I was involved in the anti-apartheid movement, it was very much part of my identity all the way through, this theme of race and racial equality and injustice. But at the same time, in relation to my own identity, you know, people were saying, “oh, you know, what are you, a little bit Black, not enough white,” or, you know, whatever it is, they just couldn't place me.

 So every day you're, sort of, having to get up and prove yourself, as a Black person, as a woman, and as a mixed-race person as well. So for monoracial people, you know, even in the Black community, there's this kind of, “well, what are you, whose side are you on?”

 So, I think I'd try and navigate my way through that. And I wanted to show, in all these different settings that, you know, I travelled all over the world, I was in Italy and Finland and India and Africa, and just seeing how other people saw me was really, really interesting. And the different races and ethnicities that I've been mistaken for, you know, all the way through that.

 So it gives you a sense of, “who the hell am I?” You know, “what is my identity, actually?” And the only way I could explain my identity in a way that made any sense was to reference my father, who I'd never met and was unlikely to meet. And so I think this was the thing that really broke me, in a sense.

 And, being brought up in an all-white family, you know, people were always saying, “”well, are you their auntie? And where are you coming from? Are you the au pair?” And when I was out with my nan, they, you know, even recently they would say, “oh, are you her carer?” So all the time you're, sort of, you don't look like you belong to that family.

 And so you know, that really drove me to want to explain, for a start, the book and what that meant to my identity. And at one stage, obviously I have - it really had a really damaging effect on my mental health. And I end up doing - I've been in therapy all my life trying to work this out, I tell you.

 And, I think, you know, it, sort of, it gets you to a point where you feel like there's nothing inside, that people question it so much. And you try to be so many different people in so many different situations. And you go into a room every day, even now, and you don't know how people are going to read you. Whether they will notice at all. If they do, what box they're going to put you in. “Are you one of them, one of us, one of the-” you know, so it is constantly this shifting identity.

 And at the end of the book, I show how that shifts literally from minute to minute. And you get used to it, but it's bloody wearing, you know, it's exhausting sometimes. And it got me to the point where I felt, unless I can find my Dad, I'm not going to resolve this. And one of the things that I found is that all the - a lot of the therapists that I work with, had no idea about race. Even some of the Black ones. Didn't have any understanding of race, its trauma, and its integral part in, sort of, therapeutic healing.

 So one of the things I wanted to do was show how schools have got to change, therapy’s got to decolonise, universities have got to put it on the curriculum. You know, if we are talking about, you know, development and aid and all of that, that's got to change. We've got to, you know, completely restructure all our institutions because of that.

 So it was not just inside, but I felt dismantled inside, and I felt the world needs dismantling as well. But, so we, you know, do that healing together. So I guess that's all part of my campaigning. It's right inside of me, not just out there in the world. 

 Lisa-Marie: That's a wonderfully comprehensive answer. Thank you so much Esua. So another of the themes in your book, one that's dear to my heart too, is how important feminism and connections with women are. 

Esua: Yes. 

Lisa-Marie: So could you tell us briefly about some of the women in your book? And one thing also, that I've learned about since joining the Women's Liberation Movement myself, is that, and that's included numerous times in your book actually, is consciousness raising.

 So some women on here might not know what consciousness raising is. Why do you think it's so important to keep CR, consciousness raising, to keep this tradition from the Women's Liberation Movement alive? 

 Esua: Well, I love it. I can't tell you. I'm in seventh heaven with people talking about liberation and consciousness raising and things that went right out of fashion in the Thatcher era, you know, the eighties and nineties, “stop talking that old fashioned language, you know?” It just doesn't go down well here. And don't mention the ‘F-word’, ‘feminism’, cause that's no good either.

 And now people are realising how much this philosophy of ours, I think it is a philosophy, is so important, integral to us being human beings and women and being alive and out in the world.

 And I think consciousness raising is better than therapy, honestly. I think that consciousness raising is all about, as a group of women, getting together and learning how to open yourself and get deep into yourself. Learning how to share and learning how the sisterhood works.

 And I think, my Chapter 10, when we're all in the hospital, and we are all very different women, some not feminist at all, and that, sort of, real experience you have of healing when you are with a group of women who are all in the… have a shared experience and are prepared to talk to each other.

 And I think that there's always this thing, “oh, women won't get on, they have a cat fight,” and all this crap that you get around, sort of, trying to undermine our sense of sisterhood, when actually I think we are good at it, very good at it and given the right context, it can be an absolute lifesaver, an absolute lifesaver, and it's saved my life many, many times.

 So one of the book - one of the things I talk about is the women's movement. How important it is to me. And all my characters are different types of connection between women. With my step-mum, my Dad's wife, my mother, who was a real big role model to me, even though there were senses in which, you know, we couldn't connect because of our racial identity being so different.

 But also, romantic love between my friends, my dear, you know, dearest friends who were, you know… and also that whole thing of, you know, being at university and my warden of my hall, and her having been a feminist in the twenties, and, you know, there's so many connections. The African women that I met along the way and how important they were, and how important Efua was to me in actually finding my father.

 So there are all sorts of women's relationships and feminist relationships through the book. And I explore female connection in, I hope, as much depth as I can. But I also think the book is actually an example of consciousness raising at its deepest. That my whole book is about raising my own consciousness through telling my own story to myself, and, I hope, thereby raising other people's consciousness within the mixed-race movement.

 And we've now got a mixed-race movement as well, but also in the wider movement of feminism, anti-racism, and women who want to be allies to Black people. And the wider movement. A lot of men have told me how much they loved it, gay men as well, how much they love the book.

 So, I think that exploring human frailty, vulnerability, and relationships at that level, I hope is what consciousness raising is all about. 

 Lisa-Marie: And I highly recommend it to everybody, cause it's been life changing for myself and many other women as well. So we are going to move to questions in a bit, but I've just got a couple more to fit in, if I may.

 So, you know very little about your Dad growing up, just what your mother has shared, and she, it's important to remember, she also didn't have any role models, did she? And clearly this lack of your father had a big effect on your mental health and sense of self, which I think you portray really well in the book.

 And would you share those steps from Efua, who you just mentioned, from her phone call to you, to that moment where you finally meet the missing parts of you and what your first words to him are, and then the important part he played in your life after that?

 Esua: Yeah, I think it's interesting that my therapist said, “you've got to bury this man,” you know, “put him in a hole and we’ll say goodbye to him, cause you are never going to meet him, so forget it.” And I think that was just probably the worst thing anybody ever said to me. But on the other hand, sometimes the worst thing that anybody ever said to you, leads you on a path of redemption and, you know, knowledge.

 So, you know, if he hadn't said that to me, maybe I would never have done it. So, who knows, you know. I'm a great one for doing the opposite of what people tell me, and arguing with people who are paid to advise me as well. That's very good. That's what I do. 

 So yeah, I think, again, yes, my sister Efua, who actually was one of the champions of the FGM movement, Efua Dorkenoo, who sadly died before I had a chance to ask her exactly how she found my father, so this is a rather deeply traumatic discussion for me, in that I lost her. Well, the world lost her really, because she was a pioneer in the anti-FGM movement in the 1970s when people had hardly heard of it, you know, so it was, you know...

 So, yeah. But my impression is that she was able to meet an old friend who knew of my father, and the rest is history, as they say. And I think it's one of those things where, nowadays, you've got Davina McCall who comes in and says, “yes, here you are, brothers and sisters,” you know, “you can get together after all these years apart,” and so on. You got therapists preparing the way and all that.

 Well, I mean, in my day you just went on a plane and just hoped for the best. There was no internet, no phones, nothing. So I just rock up at my Dad's and say, “hey, you know, remember me?” And he says, “oh yeah, I knew your mother.” So it's just surreal. Absolutely surreal. And then you sit down, have a beer, and say, “well, let's catch up, shall we?”

 You know, and at the same time you're thinking, “this is not really happening, this is just a whole made up story,” and I couldn't believe it at the time. And, I've got a description of it saying, “well, you know, this is happening right now, but it's also my history.” It's, you know, and it's like it’s a dream.

 And so you get those moments in your life when you think, it's going in slow motion. You can see yourself as if you're in a film. You're sort of there, but you're sort of watching it as well, thinking, “is this really happening?” And I think that's how I felt when I met him. And then, you know, there was a whole…

 I think one of the things is that some people who meet their long-lost relatives say, “well, there doesn't seem to be a spark to me.” But I absolutely fell in love with my Dad. I went following him around saying, Dad, “do you have to go to work?” And I was 37 and I was acting like a two-year-old, you know, “daddy, don't leave me.” 

 And I just, like, I describe it as, like, a fast forward home movie, because that's how it felt to me that I was, you know, rapidly catching up emotionally with this relationship with my father. And so, I just loved him from the second that I saw him. And the same with my brother, and my step-mum, who is not a blood relation, but somehow her part in it is just, like, extraordinary. 

 And then meeting, I've got 31 first cousins, meeting my Tina. It’s making me cry actually, sorry. Meeting my first cousin Tina, it was like a mirror. And I talk about mirrors, and how I didn't recognise myself. Then suddenly there's all these brown people who look like me! You know? If you haven't been there, it's difficult to describe it, you know, but, you know, that was amazing. And I'm still in touch with them all now. And I had a great relationship with my Dad ‘til he died.

 And then, I still go there now and I still help out in the village. And, as you know, they made me Queen Mother. And that meant an enormous amount to me, because I see my Dad being the Chief and taking himself dead seriously in his robes. And there I'm sitting, there on the same stool, thinking, “what am I doing here?”

 And it’s just, it’s mad. It's mad really. But, at the same time, yeah, it really, it made me what I am. And it was a really important step in my story, but not the whole journey. It just makes you realise, I saw a whole load of Black people who also didn't look like me, like the white people didn't, because I'm mixed-race and I'm still the only one.

 So it was a while before, you know, okay, you know, you see the other half of the story and that was important, but there was more to go, than that, as you know, at the end of the story. 

 Lisa-Marie: Thank you so much. And we're getting on with time, but we've got a few questions coming through, so I've got another one, if I may. You said to me that you feel optimistic about the future, and the impact that the Black Lives Matter movement is having. Do you want to share more on this?

 Esua: Yeah. I am an optimist anyway and I just sort of think, yeah, there's part of me that sort of felt ‘only’, this sense of only-ness, but there's another part of me that's saying, “I'm not going to let it get me down.” I'm going to find some way of validating myself, and also of fighting for people who've been othered, who've been marginalised, at the same time, and being in solidarity with them.

 And as I say, having this book in lockdown has been an extraordinary journey. In the summer I was up doing socially distanced rallies on Tooting Common, you know, compering all these local Black artists and singers and dancers, and taking the knee for George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. And it was so exciting.

 And, like, a thousand people used to rock up on a Sunday afternoon, all wearing masks, you know, socially distanced to say, “yeah, we are in solidarity.” And it just reminded me of being a student again, and just, like, you know, that sense of activism and that elation you get in being with people

 And that's what leadership is. It's being with people, and so that you empower everybody and feel empowered by everyone else as well. That's what leadership is to me. So I feel, yes, very positive. I know it's really scary out there. The disease is out there and it's come back.

 But at the same time I'm thinking, you know, there's been a flowering, an upsurge, of kindness in the world as well, as well as right wing fascism, which, you know, God, I've been fighting against that all my life. What's new?

 But at the same time, people are actually sharing and they're coming out into the street, looking after the older people, asking if they want any shopping done. The restaurants have been giving away free food. You know, everybody is feeling, you know, making way for each other in the street.

 And I just feel a sense of, like, we will have a better world because of this, that there's a confluence of Covid, environmental disaster, Black Lives Matter, feminism, and, you know, the particular impact on women of the disease. But I also think that there's been a lot of women's leadership. I mean, women were the ones that set up Black Lives Matter, the best performing countries in the world under Covid are led by women. I just feel we have got a lot to offer the world.

 Feminism still has everything to offer the world, and we've got to keep going. Now! Angela Davis said, “you've got to get up every morning, and think that change is absolutely possible, total change is absolutely possible,” and you've got to do that every day. Believe. 

 Lisa-Marie: Now if I had you for a few more hours, which I would love to do, I'd get you to talk about Angela Davies and the meeting in Hackney and what have you. But what I'm going to do is, I'm going to move on to some of the questions that are coming through, actually, cause I really want to make sure that we go through some of those.

 So, Esua, can you explain the significance of the renaming with your African name from a cultural and personal perspective? 

 Esua: Yeah well, this thing about naming is very interesting because, ever since I was four, and meeting Kumba on the common, I wanted an African name. And I used to pretend my name was Kumba sometimes. And I often got given nicknames, like Buzzer and Goldie and things, because of my personality. 

 And I also used to rock up to different situations, like being an au pair in Italy and people would say, “oh, you know, are you sure you’re the au pair?” You know, “are you sure you come from the UK?” Yeah. “Do you know where I come from? Or do I know where I come from? No, that's an interesting point…” 

 But yeah, it's just, like, total confusion, that my name didn't match my face. So to me, the significance, the personal significance of getting a name that I felt I could… that belonged to me, was great. And my full name is Esuantsiwa, Eruefua Esuantsiwa the First is my enstooled name. Well, you can't really go around calling yourself that. So my daughter said, “no one can pronounce that, Mum, why don't you call yourself Esua, for short?” So that seems to have caught on. So it's, kind of, even then, I've started making up my own name again, haven’t I?

 So that's what I call myself, you know, among my friends, of whom, yes, they're all around me now. So I think that was a thing, to have a name that I felt was me. And also what was great was having the name of a Warrior Queen. I mean, you know, what luck, you know, to sort of turn up in Africa, and your Dad says, “by the way, your great-great-grandmother was a warrior Queen.” Yes, amazing.

 So I tell her story at the end of it. And what was great, is she was half-Fante, half-Ashanti, and her whole thing was, she was mixed! And she, sort of, managed to save the tribe by saying, you know, “I'm half you, so you go away, and I'm half them, so I'm sticking with them,” you know. 

 So it was just, like, such an amazing story, you know, to feel was part of my history. And I talk to her when things get tough, “what would Esuantsiwa do?” So yeah. 

 Lisa-Marie: The name suits you very, very well. 

 Esua: Thank you. 

 Lisa-Marie: The perfect name for you. 

 Esua: I found her, as well as my Dad. I found her.

 Lisa-Marie: Yes. So we've got some questions. What would your message be, says Uttar, to a young mixed-race person growing up in Britain today? Good question.

 Esua: I think, yeah, it's a very good question, thank you. I would say: we are the real deal. Don't let people negate you and say you're not one thing and you're not the other, and your identity is not a significance, pick a side, all the things they used to say to me.

 It seems to me that being mixed-race is full of challenges, but you get really good at going into a room, reading a room, reading how people are, reading them, you know, having that sort of sensitivity. Which is why I ended up as a facilitator, because that's what I do, you know, I read rooms all the time, and people pay me. 

 And also I think it takes you into places that other monoracial people can't reach. Like, you know, I'm sometimes going into a room full of all white people, sometimes all Black people, sometimes all people of colour, and sometimes mixed-race people. I mean all sorts of different networks.

 Everyone says they live in a bubble. We live in a multiverse; we could be everywhere. So there's a huge joy of the mixed-race identity and having access to so many different spaces and cultures. So it is very exciting. I think we've got a lot to offer and contribute to the world. And the world has to respect us, for being a genuine community, with a genuine identity that we shall and can be proud of. 

 Lisa-Marie: Thank you so, so much. So here's a question from Tamara, I think. You talk about feeling like a fraud - and this is very similar, Tamara, to what my last question was going to be as well - do you still feel like this? And my question was, I want to ask if you've made peace with yourself.

 Esua: Yeah. Yes I do. Yeah, it's funny, I've just recently become… this is my first book, right? And it's a bit like being president of the union, I'm thinking, “what am I doing here?” And, you know, “I'll never get this published.”

 And when I got so many rejections, I thought, “well, there you go. I'm not really good enough.” I went to all these courses to learn how to write, cause I didn't think my writing was any good. Then I argued with the tutor and said, “I want to write like I want to write!” 

 So, you know, I, sort of, really tied myself up in knots, with the kind of - I go into situations cause I don't think I'm good enough, and then I argue with everybody as to why I should be here. So, yeah, I do feel a fraud in some ways.

 And I tell you, the other day I went to this Black Writer's Guild meeting, which was, like, over a hundred Black writers in the room, in this Zoom room. And we've set ourselves up to challenge this, you know, white writers, white publishers, and, you know, we want more of our books published.

 And blimey, there was Bernardine Evaristo in the room, and Benjamin Zephaniah, and Afua Hirsch, all these really famous people saying, “oh, come on in.” I have never seen them except on a platform. And there they are being participants in this meeting, “how do we…”

 And I'm thinking, “blimey, I'm with the big boys and girls now,” and I'm thinking, “they're going to say, “what are you doing? You've only written one book, and it's never won a Booker Prize, off you go!”” And so part of me is still thinking, “I'm in the wrong place.”

 But in a way, that makes you be better than you, that means you’ve got to be your best self, you know. I make a big effort to be good, because I just feel that that's what is expected, in order to let me stay, if I'm good. So yeah, I do.

 And then sometimes I think, because of being mixed race, because of what I've experienced, I know more than everybody about this. You know what I mean? Two characters in your head, one that's a fraud and the other one that's saying, “do you know what? I can kick arse if I need to.” So yeah, they're both talking to me.

 Lisa-Marie: Thank you so much for that. So - and I'm sure they were delighted and on honoured to have you in the meeting, frankly. 

 Esua: Oh, well maybe if they noticed!

 Lisa-Marie: So we have another one, I think this one is also from Tamara. 

 “Have you ever considered moving to Ghana? I haven't quite got to the end of the book, sorry. And also, can you speak a bit about conversations you may have had with your children about their racial identity? I'm at chapter 20 and Jake is eight and realising there are no brown superheroes.”

 Esua: Right. Okay. Yeah. So, yes, I have considered moving to Ghana, especially now when it's cold outside, and there's Covid, because Africa has come out of Covid pretty well apart from South Africa, and I'm in constant touch with my Ghanaian family who tell me what's going on there. COVID hasn't gone away completely, but there's much less of it than there is here.

 And my son is out there with his girlfriend, until May. So they're, you know, they are enjoying themselves out there with all the family. And, you know, they're going to be there for Christmas, and my step-mum's birthday, she's 88 now.

 So yeah, I very much feel that that's my second home, or probably joint first home now. And I think ideally I'd like to spend some of my time in the UK and some of my time over there, you know, sort of, live in both places, that would be absolutely fantastic.

 And yeah, I do talk to my children. And you know what? I've never talked to them more than I have this year, because for the first half of the year we were all locked down together. My daughter is a medic. She's just coming up to her finals in medicine this year, which is a hell of a year to be qualifying in medicine.

 And my son is a digital, you know, what do you call it? Digital marketing, I don't know, something like that. Anyway, the two of them became very politicised this year, because of Covid, and Black people dying, and because of Black Lives Matter.

 And I think, because my daughter is now in Derbyshire and in a country area, whereas I brought them up in Tooting, so they never really… I mean, they had mixed-race friends, Black friends, white friends. They lived in a multicultural environment. So my daughter for the first time saw people were staring at her and, you know, feeling that, first time she got actual racial abuse in the street, because it's a very white area. And she said, “Mum, you didn't prepare us for any of this.”

 And it's just, that is typical of being a mother, isn't it? You try and solve the problems that you had, but you create a whole load of other ones for your kids! So that's, yeah… in a way we've had some, in lockdown, we've had some fantastic conversations about it, and they've been up the common with me in Tooting, you know, protesting.

 And for the first time ever, I went to a march around the American Embassy and took the knee for George Floyd and all of that, with my two children. That was a very proud moment for me, standing shoulders to shoulder with them. 

 Lisa-Marie: There’s a glorious photograph, when you are made Queen Mother, and you've got your whole family around you? And that's just a beautiful, beautiful moment.

 So there's a question here, oh, we've got two more, and we've got nine minutes, so, oh, we're going to, okay. So what I'm going to do, Esua, is I'm going to ask you one of these, I think we'll have time for the last one. What I might do is send it to you, so that maybe you can write the answer and I can forward it on to the woman who's asked it.

 So: “tell us about the role of Queen Mother. What are your responsibilities?”

 Esua: Oh, right, okay. Well, you know, there's… there's a real amazing history of Queens in Africa. And they were, some of them are, sort of, warrior Queens. They led their people into battle against the colonialists.

 They're king makers. They decide who's going to be the Chief, and if the Chief is misbehaving, you go to the Queen Mothers and they, you know, de-stool him, sounds painful, but it's, you know, it's a thing. And so they are immensely powerful. And they ride in their palanquins, and they are responsible for the welfare of the women and children in every village.

 And you get a hierarchy of Queens and Chiefs, in the different areas. So, they're very powerful. And some of them are Queens of different commodities, like yam, cassava, tomato Queen, or whatever. They employ men to do the farming. And they were, back in the day, immensely rich. I'm talking about the seventies and eighties.

 So various politicians, colonial and indigenous, have tried to smash the Queens. You can tell, can't you? “Too many women going around acting like they are powerful. No, no, no, no.” So colonialists actually rounded them up and deported them or killed them, and would only speak to the Chiefs, because they wanted not just colonialism, but patriarchy of course. So they weren't interested in the Queens being powerful.

 So I think the role of the Queens has always been incredibly powerful. And if you go back to the 19th century, my gosh, you can see all these Queens, they're all, it's all rifles over their shoulders. I mean, they were seriously, seriously, going into battle. So it's fantastic.

 And, at one point I actually went in to find a meeting, I was working in Ghana and I couldn't find the meeting room, it's a big place in the theatre or something. I opened this door. There's all these Queen Mothers sitting there, all with their regalia on and their crowns and everything. And I said, “oh, excuse me,” because I wasn't a Queen Mother at the time. I went outside, I said to the doorman, “what's going on in there?” And he said, “oh, it's the Queen Mothers’ trade union. They've all come from the villages. They're sorting out, you know, how to do development and so on.” 

 So there's an amazing amount of women's power in Ghana, all over Africa, which they did their best to smash, but they haven't actually succeeded. But at the same time, like any other role, there's a whole load of protocol. There's a lot of vested interests. And you know, there's another whole side of it, which I'm saying, “I can't be doing with.”

 So I'm sort of marching there, now my Dad's gone, I can do what I like. So I go in there and say, “no, no, I don't want to do it like that.” And, “oh, there’s tradition,” well, never mind tradition, you know, this is the way I want to do it. So I'm kind of, you know, working with the radicals in the movement of the Queen Mothers.

 And the wonderful thing is, news just in, my, Ocheame, who is called - what did I call her in the book? I can't remember - anyway, she's the one who organises my ceremony for me. She's just been made a Chief, the first Chief ever who is female, in the whole of our Fante tradition. Is that a coincidence that me and her have been working together? So we are an all-women team now. Got a female Chief. 

 Lisa-Marie: Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. Esua, I'm going to try and fit one, one, one more in, have to be a really brief answer. So Lucky has said, “losing your grandfather must have been very difficult for you, because he was very politically aware...” Did you want to speak to that?

 Esua: Yeah. My Grandad. Yeah. Because we bigged up all the women, but there are some very important men in my life as well. My Grandad was one. He taught me socialism, egalitarianism, anti-racism. And he was a really important figure to me.

 And he told me about John Archer, who is the first mixed-race mayor of London, Black mixed-race mayor of Battersea. And in 1913, he was elected. Nobody talks about him. Nobody talked about him at school. And they're going to raise a statue to him somewhere in Battersea next year.

 And Wandsworth Arts came to me, a couple of days ago, and said, “will you write an article about how your grandfather talked about John Archer? Because, you know, you’re one of the only people we can find who actually had a connection with him, whose Grandad knew him.” So I was able to talk about my Grandad, and John Archer, and also my own experience as being a mixed-race person who, you know, had some leadership positions.

 So I think that whole, sort of, triangle of me, Grandad, and John Archer was very exciting to explore. So this book has taken me to places that I wouldn't have been to otherwise and rediscovering my history and reinterpreting it in a new light. So it’s very exciting, and I can only say, I'm sure Grandad would've been thrilled with being in the book and, yeah, being such a big part of my life.

 He was my first Dad, you know, the person I called Dad. So, that was a very good beginning from somebody who was politically active, but also had a very big heart. 

 Lisa-Marie: Thank you so much. Lucky says, “I really loved how you both used to read together at lunchtime.” 

So we're going to draw this to a close. I am going to say to everybody that this book is available on Audible. So actually, I mean, we wanted to fit in some readings, but we've just had so many questions, so get the Audible copy, and Esua is reading it all the way through, with accents as well that she had to - well, tell them about learning about the accents, Esua.

 Esua: Oh my gosh, yes. I rushed into my hairdressers - cause, like, I went into the Audible and said, “well, where's the cast? I've got 21 accents. It's not PC, politically correct, to go taking people off and taking their accents off.” And they said, “you'll have to do it.” And I said, “no way.” And they said, “well just do a hint of an accent.”

 Believe me, a hint of an accent is even more difficult to do than a bad one. So I went into my hairdresser and I said, “look, you got to teach me Jamaican, how to speak Jamaican patois, while you're doing my hair.” So, she was really good. We were practicing all the parts and yeah, it was great. So really, well, you just don't know you've got it in you until you try, do you?

 So the only one I couldn't do was the Dutch one. Which is really crazy. Out of 21, I could not do the Dutch one. So in the end I rang up my publishers and said, “look, I want to change one sentence from, “said Lars in his thick Dutch accent,” to, “said Lars in his near perfect English.”” And then I didn’t have to do the accent. I got round it. Talk about being a fraud!

 Lisa-Marie: Fantastic. So everybody, you have to get hold of the Audible. 

 Esua: Do it. It's really, really fun. It was fun, I loved it. I want to be an actress now. 

 Lisa-Marie: And I have no doubt you'll succeed in anything and everything you put your mind to, Esua. 

 Esua: I'll try. I'm a bit of a fraud, but you know…

 Lisa-Marie: Not in the slightest. And so the last minute, I just want to say thank you. And in the book you say, “I wish I could hold a room full of people's attention, with something to say that's really important. Something that will stay with them, make them think and change the way they look at things.”

 And I want to say, sincerely, Esua, you've definitely succeeded in doing that. And I think we would all like to say a huge ‘thank you’ for your book and for sharing with us this evening. Thank you so, so much.

 Esua: Thank you for inviting me. I've had such a wonderful time. I'm going to sit and look at all your chat cause I haven't been able to, I've been looking at Lisa-Marie so I can't see the chat.

 But I just wanted to thank you for coming, and the privilege of having your book read by such wonderful people and being asked such fantastic questions, I can't tell you how much it means to me. Thank you so much for inviting me and for coming along tonight. 

 Lisa-Marie: Lots of love. Take care. 

 Esua: Lots of love to all of you. Thank you. Sisterhood is powerful.

 Lisa-Marie: Sisterhood and solidarity. 

 Esua: Yep!