Growing up as a Black male in London I've been subjected to racism. Not the levels my parents or grandparents had to endure, but still a degree. The most interesting brushes I've had with racism have come from my own people.

My early teenage years consisted of me listening to Hip-Hop and Rap music. It was the music that was cool to my generation. Even my dress sense followed the culture from baggy jeans to T-shirts that look more like tents. This lifestyle was me until I was liberated by University. My music taste expanded and my clothes started to fit me. It was whilst listening to my new music taste that I first experienced racism from my own kind.

A few summers ago I got on a bus. I was greeted with laughs from a group of young Black adults. I thought to myself it must be a personal joke, I looked like someone they found amusing or something. After ten more minutes on the bus the laughs and sniggers were still in full flight. I wondered to myself how funny this joke could be. Mustering up courage I asked the men what they found amusing? "Your music is gay, you aint black," was my answer. Stunned, I put my music back in my ears and tried to understand what I had just heard.

When did the music you listen to depict your skin colour? I was in shock at what I had just been told. Looking back I sometimes wish I could have argued their ridiculous comment instead of freezing. It was a point in my life which gave me deep dislike for closed minds.

As I further changed my style so did the comments of certain members of the younger Black community. A pattern began to form, I realised that if you didn't listen to hip-hop and you were Black you were viewed as odd. It hit me, many of the Black youths who frowned at me saw being a colour as how you act.