Maybe I Don't Belong Here: A Memoir of Race, Identity, Breakdown and Recovery

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I would like to thank David Harewood for providing such an honest, open, and raw account of his mental health struggles in his early 20's and the journey it taken him on. His great-great-great-great grandparents had been slaves on a plantation in Barbados owned by Henry Lascelles, 2nd Earl of Harewood. I'm gonna start by saying I loved HomeGirl so I was aware of what David does for a living and familiar with his work but that's as far as it went. For a long time I realised I don't really belong in the UK despite being born there and working there and now I have the right to say so. That whilst I can wave that flag, and cheer, and stand in line, and sort of bow down; in the eyes of many I'll never truly be part of that club.But it's also a love letter to Harewood’s friends, parents and a tribute to his determination to succeed against the odds. The reason the book isn’t as heavier read as I thought is there are so many lighter and funny moments. That one was such a tough read it was thrown across the room at one point after which I sat sobbing at the injustice in our society. I particularly wanted to read this as it's rare to hear about the black experience from a British perspective, and it was clear from interviews that Harewood had been both eloquent and brave in sharing his story. He is Professor of Public History at the University of Manchester, the author of several books and a columnist for the Observer, The Voice and BBC History Magazine , also writing for the Guardian and the New Statesman .

His fortitude and the courage to revisit that period and all it entailed are quietly heroic; hearing him tell his own story with such generosity makes this a memorable listen. Maybe I Don’t Belong Here is a harrowing read and one I’ll never forget, not least because in the wake of the race report by the Commission on Race and Ethnic Disparities, a shared story is a lifeline for my people. The portrait's unveiling was accompanied by a temporary exhibition at the house focussing on Harewood's life and career. Brutally honest, brave and enlightening, David Harewood’s memoir and account of his breakdown is a fascinating read. But there is a reckoning now, I mean right through the commonwealth, where those that were once subjects are sort of saying "let's renegotiate this relationship.

David speaks honestly about racism, mental health and how the two can connect and give people a fractured identity as it makes them feel like they do not belong in their own country. But for me it's also about being a part of a rich, a very, very rich history, and a very, very rich culture. It may be just one account from the perspective of a person of colour who has experienced this system, but it may be enough to potentially change an opinion or, more importantly, stop someone else from spinning completely out of control.

A tremendously brave account of how a young black man loses his grip on reality and is sectioned under the mental health act. The way he puts hus vulnerabillities, being his personal life and experiences with psychosis and racism, on display is absolutely amazing. There seems to be a lot of memoirs I have been reading lately that are talking about the fissures in their lives and their mental breakdown as a result. It's been formally recognised as a Borough of Sanctuary and is teeming with creative individuals and communities.I will continue to recommend this book to people who I believe to be in need of it's messages, both in terms of race and of mental health- and of both, combined.