As a black person growing up in a white area and outside of my biological family, I have often been aware of my fragmented identity constantly under flux.

At the age of 18 months I was physically split from my natural mother who had emigrated to America and put me into care. I was then placed into a children's home, a large Georgian house in Hertfordshire run by a white upper-middle class couple and an all white staff. Although there were some black children living there, I soon became aware of my difference. People stared at us when we went out, all the teachers and children at school were white, and most of them knew we lived in a children's home.

My identity was fragmented and unstable. My mother was still living in America, I rarely visited my grandmother who lived in London and had never met any of my relations in Jamaica.

At the age of four I was introduced to a white family who lived in a middle-class area of Essex. Two white sisters, Pauline and Gillian. They both lived together with Pauline's son Jason, whose father lived in Canada. Although I considered them to be my family, they wanted me to keep in contact with my natural mother and visit my Grandmother more regularly.

By the age of ten I was well aware of cultural differences in the language, traditions and stereotyping between my black and white family. When I stayed at my (black) grandmother's and visited my cousins I was made aware of my 'whiteness', and while living in Hertfordshire and Essex, I was made aware of my 'blackness'. My identity was constantly under flux with differing levels on inadequacy and difference. In Essex people saw me as black' and treated me as different - that's not to say that I was constantly being suppressed but people expected me to act and speak a certain way.

At the age of eleven (1981) the social services decided that I could not be adopted by my foster family because the two sisters where white and there was no father figure. Despite our protests the social workers placed me with a black family in Islington. They felt it was necessary for me to learn about 'black culture'. Only after I became very disruptive did they listen and allow my white family to adopt me. The following year I met my natural mother for the first time, and was able to see my social services note which enabled me to form my personal history.

These crucial events encouraged me to actively seek a black identity. This proved impossible as I did not identify with my natural mother who still lives in Florida. Although I started to build up a much better relationship with my grandmother and cousins etc., I did not identify with them and black culture still seemed very alien to me, whereas my white family were culturally reflected everywhere.

After trying to find my 'true identity' within my biological family, I realised that there was no model or authentic black identity. I now see as much of my black family as I do my white family, and am content to be aware of my blackness as much as my whiteness. This syncretic identity could be seen as the 'norm' if we are in fact living in a postmodern multicultural Britain.

In retrospect I can now see that my personal history is closer to what I believe constitutes 'black identity'; fragmented, diverse and constantly changing in connection with a lived experience.