Tribe of One

I wrote a book called What About George. It was a marker, an autobiography of my life. I’m glad I wrote it. I get the odd download every now and then and it makes me smile but I wonder who those people are. Are they lost like me?

I am Black British a class all of its own. I was bullied at school and as a young adult had a few ugly racial run-ins. It was all a game to me a horrid and vicious game but a game nonetheless . 

To be honest the only thing that bothered me was the feeling I did not belong. That I did not have a tribe. Now I realize that I don’t need one. I am a tribe of one.

Yes I will have to carve a hole in that Imperial wall and cut out a peg, plaster my face on it but there’s a new peg in a new hole and that’s where I belong.

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