Our love is too Black and White

Chapter 1

My names Ashanti – Marie, I’m a coloured girl born and bred in the urban ruin of London. My parents are the famous ‘Jazz and Dizzy’ singers who were famously known for their jazz and slow RNB ‘motown’ approach to the music industry in the mid 80’s.

My parents were touring all over the place, from doing mini gigs in Manchester, Brighton and even Blackpool to major events such as the ‘S-low Festival’ equivalent to the V Festival nowadays. But their major and clean success was interrupted in 1991 when my brother Jazz was born.

It wasn’t a killjoy or anything they didn’t want, my brother was most definitely not a burden. He was the first chapter of their story, he was the one who made them realize that ‘Jazz and Dizzy’ wasn’t going to last for long and it’s time to put down the mic and begin making a suitable life.

In 1993 another joined, straining my father’s finances.  Michael. He wasn’t unexpected but he came a little too early for my parents, they were broker than broke at the time, having very little than SMA powder milk for him every morning. My Dad had to sell some of his CD’s, to try and see if he can go back into the music industry just to get a few money for Jazz, Michael and Mum but everywhere he went  managers would slam the door in his face.

Michael and Jazz grew up in mid poverty; however my Mum refused to raise her two sons up with little to eat in the morning and the same clothes every year. Although they were young, they deserved to have a little luxury.

My Mother began to work; she worked two jobs for about a year and half. She saved enough money for her and the family. Every time she would set off for work and leave Jazz and Michael with my Dad, he would feel useless.

My Father wanted my Mother to be at home and relax; he believed he should be the breadwinner and not watch his wife come back every night after long hard hours of labour.

But as a year and a half passed, I was then born.

Ashanti – Marie Davidson, born on 12th June 1994 at 12:50am.

Life was looking more and more pleasant after I was born. My Dad decided to get up from his backside and begin working, whilst my Mother stayed at home looking after my brothers and me.

Years had passed and my parents had stopped making more babies, focussing more on having a more stabled life for Jazz, Michael and myself.

We lived in a small apartment, compacted between tall towers of grey and red and a zoo of drug dealing coloured people roaming the ruined streets.

Every corner was corrupted of crime and every person was snuggled indoors watching Television, fearing to leave their Jail cell.

When I turned 5 and Michael was 6, my parents decided to move out.

Jazz had already fitted into the primary school at St. Peters but my Mother wasn’t too keen on living in this neighbourhood, fearing that we would grow up to be influenced by the crime around us.

So we then moved. The Davidson’s moved to St. Marie, East Coast of the London Ruins.

This side of town was safer, with a more mixed of colours but an increase of racial discrimination.

Although, the coloured people were looked down upon by the whites we still moved on with our lives. Doing our business; going to school, the adults would head off to work or catch a coffee by big Mikes, but all of this was limited by the prevention of racial mergence.

We couldn’t say “Good morning” to the white gentlemen or women and if we past a white gentlemen we had to swiftly walk past with our heads down.

And the whites wouldn’t even dare look at us, not even a smile. If they saw us young coloured children playing hop scotch outside on the roads they would look down at us with disappointment and disgust.