If It Looks Like An Immigrant, And It Talks Like An Immigrant…

Under the Saltire Flag

I have decided, against all odds, to stop being an immigrant. I admit this is a somewhat difficult task. After all, I was born in Jamaica but have been living in Scotland these past three years; I am a black man living in a largely white country and whenever I open my mouth what comes out is many miles away from a Glaswegian accent. How many miles can in fact be calculated precisely. The point is I look like an immigrant and I sound like an immigrant. But I have made my decision all the same.

I have been wondering about the words we use to describe those who engage in the act of migration. The words are not all equal, though in all fairness, words never are. (Incidentally, I remember a wonderfully titled chapter in a book trying to make this point about words. The chapter’s title was: ‘A…

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