How racism steals our safe spaces and scars our lives
More from this theme Recent articles When I accepted a job in Devon, a favourite picture from my vision board felt a little closer. It’s of a woman at the wheel of a red convertible, roof down and arms in the air in front of a sun setting over the ocean. I’ll never have her skin or her apparent freedom, but moving to the South West felt exciting, fun – liberating, even. So my next step was to find myself the most affordable soft-top on Marketplace – my first car. It’s not fancy, but damn, is she cute. We call her Patty after tucking into a Jamaican vegetable pastry in a Sainsbury’s car park following our first spin. Though it took eight round trips from London to Devon to do it, Patty has brought me closer to my dream. Now, I wake up each day between 05:00 and 05:45 depending on whether snoozing or swimming wins, and I head to work in a better mood because I have Patty to get me around my new …