Home and Not Home: Why I wouldn’t fight for my country

BY NAOMI W.

Today (8 May 2025) marks 80 years since Victory in Europe Day.
VE Day. The end of the war on this continent. A moment of relief, of triumph, of mourning.

I’ve seen the grainy black-and-white photos of people dancing in London’s Trafalgar Square, hugging strangers, smiling and happy that they’d survived the end of the world.

It was victory.
But it came at a cost. Millions of lives lost. Bombed-out homes. Ration books. Empty chairs at kitchen tables. A generation scarred so that the next could live with a little more peace, a little more freedom.

And I believe that’s worth remembering. Worth honouring.
We shouldn’t forget what people gave up. Their lives. Their youth. Their families.

But if I’m honest?
If Britain went to war tomorrow, I wouldn’t fight for it.

I’m proud to call this country my home.
It’s the place where I was born, I learned to read, where I sat my exams, where I’ve worked in the charity sector trying to give something back. I’ve been given opportunities here that my parents, born in the Caribbean, could only dream of when they first arrived. They came with little but hope and the will to work hard. Britain gave them something. Gave me something.

But I’m still seen as other.
And that stings.

When I walk into a room, I can feel the pause.
The assumptions.
The subtle, unspoken “where are you really from?” that I’ve had to answer a thousand times, even though the real answer is - I’m from here.

We mark 80 years since VE Day and celebrate unity, shared sacrifice, national pride - but Britain doesn’t feel united.
It feels fractured.

The divide between rich and poor has only grown wider.
Your postcode can predict your life expectancy. Your skin colour still plays a role in your treatment in hospitals, in classrooms, in job interviews.
And if you're working class? You're more likely to die younger, more likely to live in damp housing, more likely to be blamed than helped.

Sometimes I think - if some people had their way, they’d ship my parents “back.”
And maybe me too.
Even though I was born here. Even though this is the only home I’ve ever known.

So no I wouldn’t fight for this country. Not because I hate it. But because it's hard to fight for a country that wouldn’t fight for me.

I wish it was different.
I wish the people in power spoke less about who to blame and more about how to heal.
I wish the media didn't treat refugees, or Black families, or poor communities as convenient villains.
I wish we could remember VE Day not just as a victory then, but a reminder of what we could be now - a nation that pulls together instead of tearing itself apart.

Because I want to be proud.
I want to feel like I belong to a country that truly sees me not just when it needs my labour or my taxes or a feel-good diversity photo, but when it counts.

VE Day reminds me of what people hoped for - peace, fairness, rebuilding.
Maybe we still have time to build something worth being proud of.

For all of us.