Happiful April 2021

a fresh perspective
The mental health impact of
being a writer of colour
As a writer of colour, people will
constantly challenge where you
are in your career, and accuse
you of being there because of
‘positive discrimination’, or
because everyone is so ‘woke’ at
the moment. Or they’ll question
why you take up certain spaces,
and that will mess with your
head. Your own community will
tear you apart because when
you’re the one writer who gets
through, they expect you to be
representative of everyone, and
that is impossible.
For me specifically, the thing
that I didn’t even consider
as a job was being a public
intellectual about race and
immigration. I’m a comedy and
fiction writer, that’s where I
started out, and then The Good
Immigrant led me down this
weird cul de sac where I was
asked to go on the news and talk
about Nigel Farage!
My tweets were mentioned in
the papers, MPs were reporting
me to the Equality and Human
Rights Commission, and editors
were snarking behind my back
saying the only reason I was
doing any of this ‘race chat’ was
to further my own career.
So you’re constantly made to
feel like you don’t deserve any of
it. The sad truth was that I didn’t
want to be speaking on any of
those platforms in the first place.
I just wanted to be writing my
dumb jokes, and books about men
trying to be better at their lives,
that’s all I wanted to do when I
started out, and now here I am.
In the two years that I was
touring The Good Immigrant, I had
a new kid, I was being trolled on
the internet, and was being sent
death threats to my house, my
inbox, and on social media. All of
this because I just wanted better
representation in books. With all
of that vitriol, you start to think:
‘What’s the point? Why am I
doing all this stuff?’ and you start
to feel alone.
No one tells you about any of
this when you start out, so I’ve
decided to be honest about it.
The value in being vulnerable
I’ve been having a lot of therapy
recently to address a couple
of things I talk about in Brown
Baby, such as binge-eating and
depression, and it’s all rooted
to a feeling of worthlessness
that I have. I’m still trying to
understand where that comes
from, and I’m working through
the murky waters of it.
When I feel stressed, worthless,
or anxious, I reach out for
comfort. Now my mum isn’t
around, and because I can’t lie on
the sofa with her, split a bag of
crisps and watch Frasier – which
would be my happy place – I
just reach for the bag of crisps
instead. The thing about it is
one bag is not enough, the act
of eating is what’s sustaining the
feeling. The immediate response
afterwards is to feel shame, and
that’s why I think: “If I keep
eating, I’ll be OK.”
Putting the binge-eating into
the book was my way of carving
out a space, because I’m happy to
be vulnerable and open with my
friends, and I really want that to be
reflected in my writing. I shared
it in the hope that other men
can start to have these open and
transparent conversations, too.
The big questions about parenting
My new book is about the stuff
that keeps me up at night, such as
raising my kids to be proud of their
heritage, but also mindful that the
world is very racist, and how I – as
a father – raise my daughters, but
don’t take up space in their life that
perpetuates the patriarchy. Also
how I might talk to them about my
own mental health.
The best writing bleeds
on the page
I remember when I May Destroy You
first came out, Michaela Coel talked
about bleeding for your art, and
putting your soul on the page, and
her words just really resonated with
me. As a writer, I’m communicating
from the heart. I throw myself into
my books, and it takes a piece of
me every single time. I think that’s
really important.
‘Brown Baby: A Memoir of Race,
Family and Home’ by Nikesh Shukla
is out now (bluebird books for life,
£16.99). Listen to Nikesh’s episode of
‘I am. I have’ on iTunes, Spotify, and
other podcasting platforms.
happiful.com | April 2021 | 89