Cristina’s Story | Brexit was the earthquake that shattered my beliefs
When you grow up on a small island, everything across the sea is something 'other'. To me, that 'otherness' was a magnet, calling me out to explore.
So I first ventured out of native Sardinia as a teenage EF student for a month, in Brighton, in 1979. A few years later, I spent a year as an exchange student in the USA. Then came the Interrail journeys across the whole of Europe in the summer. It felt wonderful to cross borders overnight, visit friends at their own home, and be a small part of a vast human flow. With every new day and every new place, I could witness how dazzlingly different our cultures can be. To me, this is Europe.
My relationship with Britain was not love at first sight. It was a creeper.
I visited frequently but always briefly. I could not understand why people were so much into London. I loved daring Paris instead, with its new Pompidou centre and exciting Minitel revolution. But in 1989, I was offered a grant for a Master's at the University of Sussex and I moved there.
What a different planet this was from my Sardinian university! In my class of 25 students, for example, there were at least 12 different nationalities, some home countries so tiny and exotic that I had to discover where they were on a map.
It was 1989, and the world was changing. There was so much hope: the Berlin wall had fallen, the South African apartheid was crumbling. Every one of us students wanted to be in Berlin and celebrate with our new European brothers and sisters. The world was going to be a better place. Everything was possible.
So I applied for a job in London and I stayed. I loved the diversity of London's communities and the incredible range of opportunities it offers. In a few years, I progressed from odd jobs to working on New Labour's policy for converging telecom and media markets. I loved the job, the limelight and the commitment to the public interest.
Then I met my St. Lucian husband and left London in search of a better life-work balance. First, we moved to his side of the world, where we had our child, and, later, we all moved to Sardinia. My mother was going through a very difficult time, my father had just passed away, and I wanted to be there for my family.
It was now the new millennium, and as Sardinia was suddenly (and briefly!) at the forefront of the digital revolution, I assumed I would easily find a job and be part of this "new" digital island. But no. Work was difficult, I had as many as three jobs at once to make ends meet, schools were disastrous… I was a wreck. After nine years in Italy and an impending divorce, I concluded that London had offered me the best chances in life. So I packed it all, and returned to London with my 12-year-old son, in 2012. My son loved it, my working life improved and I finally knew I was where I belong. I am a Londoner!
Then came Brexit.
Even in multicultural London the effects of Brexit were palpable. It was mid-June and many cars on the streets were flying their little French/Italian/Spanish flags for the Euro football tournament, I remember.
The morning after Brexit, suddenly, all the flags disappeared. Brexit was the earthquake that shattered my beliefs. Brexit felt personal. The country that had given me so many opportunities was telling me I was no longer wanted.
Brexit shook my faith in political change: simplistic and dishonest pledges had replaced making sense of a complex world. I used to think activism was for others to do, but now I feel doing nothing is no longer an option. This is the time to rebuild trust in the power of diverse communities.
