Brexit is Personal

I have been thinking about why I feel that the EU referendum and the brexit narrative has felt so personally hurtful.  The question of EU membership is complex. On the face of it, a political question.  I am not normally given to political extremes and quite a fan of nuance, balance and reason in my deliberations of political matters. But there you have it, right there.  Brexit goes beyond the political and strikes into the very heart of my family and my family history.  

So, a potted history.  My parents were Spanish from Galicia and moved to Argentina when first married. Not unusual for a time when Gallegos travelled to follow opportunities all over the world.  Gallegos are like the Welsh and the Irish. It’s a small region, population wise, but wherever you go in the world you will meet someone with links to that green and rainy corner of Spain.  But I digress.

My siblings were born and some years passed and there was a gap.  My parents found that they were unexpectedly expecting me and having had a bad time with my mothers health when my brother was born, my father decided to move the family back to Spain before I was born to be close to extended family.  

Unfortunately, things were still difficult at that time, it was still Franco’s Spain and after some time seeking work, my father was recruited as a farm labourer in North West England.  This was somewhat of a departure from his trade which was a salesman in a gentleman’s outfitters, but my dad always lead by example, you do what you need to do to look after your family.  

So in 1971, we all followed my dad who had a permanent job and a place to live.  We qualified for ILR under the rules at the time.  My whole life since the age of 3 has been in the UK - my education, my work, my partner of 29 years, my son.   

It isn’t easy uprooting yourself and your family to another country.  People blart on about it as if it’s mere trifle.  Well let me tell you reader, it takes great courage.  Even when your situation is dire, leaving can still be an agonising choice to make, leaving everything that is familiar, your language, your family support network.  My family did it twice.  In those days there were no cheap flights to hop back and see grandma, there was no email.  You had to write and wait a few weeks for a reply.  It was much harder to stay in touch with your family back in your country of birth and that isolation and separation is not an insignificant consideration.  

My parents may well have been migrants bringing little with them, but all of us become productive and working members of our communities.  I have run a business with my partner for 20 years and we employ several people as well as supporting ourselves.  If you really insist on valuing us in terms of hard cash, I would say the UK has got and is still getting its money’s worth from our entire family.  

Growing up, the different aspects to my identity did not always sit comfortably together.  Was I Spanish or was I English?  I developed a very British sense of humour, enjoying the  sarcastic wit that is found in Merseyside and learning to be rather self deprecating.  I had a love of animals particularly dogs.  My accent when speaking Spanish was very English.  On visits to Spain, people used to call me “La Inglesita”.  At the same time my Spanish heritage was strong - the love of paprika laden food, the much darker more fatalistic side of my humour, my outstanding propensity to procrastinate and my love of fiestas and fireworks and social occasions.  

Spain joined the EC as it was in 1986 and as the years went on and we became the EU and then FOM became a reality, it dawned on me that the different parts of me were finally fitting together and made complete sense under the umbrella of EU citizenship.  We were all Europeans, citizens together.   It was in that context that I came to a decision to be naturalised as a British citizen.  This may sound like it doesn’t make sense but I made the decision with great thought and solemnity.  It was not a rejection of my Spanishness but a commitment to the country that that I lived my life in and a desire to have a full political voice here. My EU citizenship kept the strong connection to Spain alive so there was no door being shut there.  

One of my siblings meanwhile around the same time decided to move to Spain to pursue opportunities there.  He was in his teens when the family moved here.   His son - British born British passport, is in the UK and getting married soon.  

Both of these momentous decisions were taken in the context of our EU membership, our EU citizenship and FOM.  Under brexit the context has changed.  What will happen if my brother wants to come back and live here?  His original ILR will be no longer be valid.  The current income specifications by the home office which will likely apply to EU27 post brexit, will probably not allow him to do so either.  His son may or may not be able to join him in Spain.  How many other people have made decisions in the past 20 years which will now lead them to experience even great complex quandaries in this new brexity context.  Lives interfered with, freedoms removed for no good reason.  Families will have to choose and be divided.  

But my biggest problem with brexit, and this is really what gets me riled up, (as my long suffering family and friends will vouch for) is that every time for the last few years the “we can’t talk about immigration” crowd have talked about immigration, they have done so in a way which has dehumanised and insulted every immigrant like my dad who has come here to commit their lives to the UK with love and enthusiasm and courage and strength.  Every time MPs talk about turning taps off, or people swarming or flooding or talk about people not born here as a problem to be solved rather than a human beings to be valued, they insult the likes of my dad who walked 5 miles every day rain or shine to get to and from his work on the farm in order to look after his family.

I am sorry if you think that I am being over dramatic.  Mr. Farage stood in front of that damn racist poster and many voters looked at it and listened to the lies and came to the conclusion that they would then vote against the interests of their friends, their colleagues, their neighbours, even their own families without a moment’s thought as to what the effect would be on millions of people who were denied a voice and their wives, husbands, parents and children.  All these thoughts are like skewers, painfully plunged into my heart as I remember my dad who from the moment he came here to the day he died, did nothing but love the mighty UK and her people with all his heart. 

That’s why Brexit is Personal for me.