Black History Month: How dyspraxia has allowed me to reclaim my narrative
October marks Black History Month in the UK, a time to celebrate the immense contributions Black people have made to British history, while also embracing the beauty and diversity of African and Caribbean cultures.
This month also coincides with Dyspraxia Awareness Week, making it an especially busy time for me. The theme for this year’s Black History Month is “Reclaiming Narratives,” and for me, part of reclaiming a narrative involves challenging long-held stereotypes. In this blog, I want to explore how dyspraxia has allowed me to reclaim what it means to be a Black man in 21st century Britain.
Having dyspraxia challenges the stereotype that al Black people have rhythm and can dance. Dance is a significant part of Nigerian culture, bringing joy and expression through movement. Whether at weddings, birthdays, church, or even casual BBQs, dancing happens wherever there is music. I grew up surrounded by this cultural norm. Growing up we would have dance competitions, and the best dancers were celebrated. It was on the dance floor that I first realised something—I knew I was dyspraxic before I knew I was Black. People with dyspraxia often struggle with coordination, and that was certainly my experience. While those around me seemed to move effortlessly to the beat, I found it difficult to keep up. Dyspraxia reminds me that not al Black people know how to dance, despite the cultural expectations. And that it is perfectly okay.
Similarly, being dyspraxic rewrites the narrative that al Black men are naturally athletic or excel at sports. Growing up, the prominent Black male role models I saw were sportsmen—Andy Cole, Linford Christie, Frank Bruno. Sport is deeply embedded in the Black community, especially among men. However, I was never great at sports, which is common for many people with dyspraxia. As a child, this was tough to accept, but it led me to focus on other areas of my education. For that, I am grateful.
Dyspraxia also gives me a strength that is not often associated with men—empathy. People with dyspraxia tend to have high levels of empathy, which has allowed me to form deep and meaningful friendships. These relationships have created safe spaces for vulnerability, for myself and those around me. I am the type of person who wears his heart on his sleeve, unafraid to show emotion. Again, this challenges societal narratives about Black men, who are often unfairly expected to be stoic or emotionally detached.
Struggling with fine motor skills also means I find tasks typically associated with masculinity, like DIY, quite difficult. Luckily, my wife excels at it, and I am grateful for that! It is a reminder that traditional gender roles or stereotypes do not define us. We each have our own strengths and weaknesses, regardless of our gender or cultural background.
As a Black man of Nigerian heritage living with dyspraxia, I challenge the narrative that neurodivergence is a "Western" phenomenon. Dyspraxia does not discriminate by race, gender, or class. This is why intersectionality is such an important lens through which to view the world—it recognises that individuals can experience multiple forms of marginalisation simultaneously. We are al the authors of our own stories, but unfortunately, society can distort and erase parts of those stories, reinforcing damaging stereotypes. It is only by embracing our uniqueness that we can truly reclaim our narratives.
As we celebrate Black History Month and focus on reclaiming narratives, I encourage you to intentionally seek out at least one contribution from a Black person to British history that you were not previously aware of. Let’s continue to challenge assumptions and celebrate the richness of our shared history.
Written by Tumi Sotire (The Black Dyspraxic)
Instagram: theblackdyspraxic
