I’ve been a keen family genealogist for the best part of
thirty-five years now, and putting everything I know together, from paper and
more recent online and DNA research it seems that my ancestral background is
Flemish, Scottish and Kentish, with a dash of Scandinavian. My identifications
through my original, pre-marriage surname are Scottish (McCartney- originally
Mac Artaine or ‘son of the brave’) and Huguenot (Crouch- anglicised from La
Croix, ‘the Cross’).
Britain entered the modern European project in 1975 when I
was still at school, when my knowledge of my Scottish and Huguenot ancestry was
located within the stories that my grandmother had told me. Later on, as I
found out more, I found interesting overlaps between the social
narratives of Presbyterian Covenantor ancestors
on one side and Calvinist
Huguenots on another. In more recent history, a branch of my family originating
within the Norfolk
Danelaw area (possibly providing my splash of Scandinavian DNA) brought their indomitable Viking spirit into mid-19th century London
branches of the Independent
Labour, Trade
Union and Co-operative movements. It was here that they intersected with Scots who had arrived at a similar point in history, and
the descendants of Huguenots who had arrived in London several centuries
earlier, leading to my birth in Camberwell
in the latter half of the twentieth century which (arguably) makes me a genuine
cockney.
For all of my adult life, I have been very comfortable
describing myself as ‘British’ and ‘European’ (although my Scottish heritage
has always made me a little uncomfortable with ‘English’). And, in terms of this
genetic mixture, I am very typical of the majority of the white British
population; the only thing that may be a little unusual about me is that, as an
historian, I have been so active in detecting the specific history of my
ancestors.
My own life events brought me to Yorkshire in my mid-20s, and in that sense I would describe myself as ‘made in London, honed in Yorkshire’, particularly as all but one of my direct descendants thus far are most definitely Yorkshire lads and lasses. All these strands sit together in a cohesive identity, which hasn’t given me much occasion for concentrated thought until recently, when immigration was raised as a major factor in the analysis around the EU referendum result. Since the majority vote to leave I have increasingly felt that not only do the English people need to seek unity between ourselves, but also within our own identities; to become more in touch with our own genetic histories.
My ancestors were welcomed to England, some fleeing
persecution and some seeking a better life for themselves and their children;
in this they had very similar motivations to contemporary migrants. And some of
the people who graciously received them were also my ancestors, of course. Those
people who welcomed my Scottish and Flemish ancestors to London across several
centuries set in train the events that led to my own birth in that same city, many
years later. And this is not just my story, but the story of the English population
in general; most of us only need to go back two or three generations to find at
least one immigrant ancestor; many of us will find more immigrant ancestors
than English ones.
How then do we now feel able to act in the ways that we
have done recently, for example towards the
Windrush generation who made a huge contribution to building the
contemporary UK, and towards those
fleeing persecution in their own countries and who, like the Huguenot refugees
fleeing France in the 16th Century, stand to be in grave danger if
returned to their original location? Miep Gies, one of the Dutch people who hid
and sustained Anne Frank and her family commented 'we did our
duty as human beings; helping people in need'. Is
this a duty that, only two generations later, we have completely forgotten? Poignantly, I have recently learned
that the word ‘refugee’ was brought into the English language by the Huguenot
diaspora.
With all things ancestral considered, I have determined to spend
Brexit week (25-31st January 2020) remembering those ancestors welcomed
to England by strangers, by taking my own, unanglicised surname as my twitter
name. This is not intended as a protest- a
majority in England has clearly voted to leave the EU. It
is a personal reflection on where we are currently in our national journey,
where we have been in the past, and whether we might aspire to be in a more humanitarian
place in the future. I’d love to see others joining me in this contemplation.