Suella Braverman has reignited a debate about what it means to be English after declaring that, despite being born in England, she does not consider herself English because of her Asian heritage. The former Conservative home secretary, who joined Reform UK in January 2026, made the remarks on BBC’s Question Time on the 1st of October. “I’m not an English person; I am of Asian origin,” she said, arguing that Englishness is rooted in ancestry, heritage and ethnicity. She also questioned why English people should not be able to have a distinct identity of their own.
Her comments prompted criticism from people who argued that this understanding of Englishness excludes Black, Asian and other non-white people born and raised in England, many of whom have never considered anywhere else home. Braverman has defended her position, but the controversy raises a fundamental question: who gets to decide whether someone is English?
Personally, I find the political implications of Braverman’s position particularly interesting. On the right, some may welcome her argument because it appears to defend a traditional understanding of Englishness associated with white Anglo-Saxon ancestry. In this interpretation, a person of an immigrant background who argues that Englishness is primarily an ethnic identity can be seen as an ally in preserving that definition. Others on the right, however, might argue that rejecting Englishness because of one’s ancestry is itself a refusal to assimilate. There is also the question of whether Braverman genuinely holds these views or whether her position appeals to a particular section of the electorate. We cannot know her private motivations, and it would be unfair to assume that her views are insincere simply because of her background.
Nevertheless, there is an apparent irony in a politician of immigrant heritage advocating an understanding of national identity that critics believe excludes many people with similar backgrounds. Braverman is entitled to identify as British Asian rather than English if that is how she feels. But that is different from suggesting that other people with non-white ancestry cannot be English.
Photo: POLITICO
The controversy drew a particularly pointed response from Conservative Party leader Kemi Badenoch, who challenged Braverman’s position in a television interview before addressing it directly at the Conservative Party conference in Birmingham on the 7th of October. Badenoch, whose children are of mixed Black and white heritage, questioned why politicians should be deciding how other people identify. In an interview with ITV’s Good Morning Britain, she warned against politicians telling people that they are not English simply because of their backgrounds. She also expressed concern about what children might hear when politicians publicly question whether people like them belong in their own country.
During the conference, Badenoch said she did not want to live in a country where politicians debated whether her mixed-race children were English.She also referred to black England footballers Ian Wright and John Barnes, recalling that when they played for the national team, their Englishness was not being questioned by sitting MPs in the way it is today. Overall, Badenoch challenging the idea that English identity should be determined by ethnicity alone. Whatever one thinks of Badenoch’s wider politics, her argument highlights a tension within contemporary conservatism: how can a party defend national identity while questioning whether some of the people born and raised in the country belong to it?
One of the biggest problems with defining Englishness through ancestry is deciding where the historical boundary should be drawn. England’s history is shaped by migration, settlement, conquest and cultural exchange. The Anglo-Saxons, whose languages and traditions helped shape what became England, migrated from continental Europe, particularly areas corresponding to modern-day Germany, Denmark and the Netherlands, following the end of Roman rule in Britain. They were not the island’s original inhabitants, and they were not the only people who contributed to the population that eventually became English. The Norman Conquest of 1066 brought another ruling elite from across the Channel. England’s subsequent history involved further movement between the British Isles and continental Europe, alongside migration from elsewhere in the world. The modern English population cannot be reduced to a single, unchanged ancestral group.
Of course, Braverman’s argument is not necessarily that Englishness requires an entirely unmixed family tree stretching back to the earliest Anglo-Saxons. Her position places importance on ancestry, heritage and generational connections to England. But this still raises the question of just how many generations are required before someone can be considered English, and who decides?
Photo: The Independant
If a family has lived in England for several generations, is that enough? What about someone whose grandparents migrated to England, or whose parents arrived as children? What about someone born in England whose family has lived there for centuries but who happens to have a non-white parent? Without a clear answer, definitions based on ancestry risk becoming arbitrary. And when ancestry is used as a proxy for whiteness, the distinction between protecting a cultural identity and excluding people on racial grounds becomes particularly difficult to ignore.
The debate becomes even more complicated when we look at other national identities. By Braverman’s logic, white Americans and Australians whose ancestors came from England should still be considered English rather than American or Australian. The same argument could be applied to people in other countries whose ancestors migrated generations ago. If ancestry determines national identity, then where does it end? Japanese people, for example, should not be considered Japanese if we trace their ancestry back to earlier migrations from mainland Asia. You could keep going with this argument indefinitely. National identities evolve over time, and people should not have to identify with the country their ancestors came from simply because of their heritage.
The point is not that every national identity is identical, or that ancestry and cultural heritage are meaningless. They can be deeply important to people. Rather, it is that national identities develop over time, and their meanings cannot always be confined to the origins of a particular ancestral group.
The distinction between being British and being English is also worth considering. Britishness generally refers to a wider national identity encompassing England, Scotland and Wales, alongside Northern Ireland in the context of the United Kingdom’s complex constitutional and national identities. Englishness, meanwhile, refers specifically to England and its associated national and cultural identity.
The two are not mutually exclusive. Someone can be English and British, just as someone can be Scottish and British or Welsh and British. People can also identify with their ethnic heritage, their country of birth and the country in which they grew up.
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Former prime minister Rishi Sunak made this point in March 2025, responding to the suggestion that a person of Indian heritage could not be English. He rejected the idea that Englishness must be determined by ancestry and described himself as British, English and British Asian. Sunak was born in Southampton, grew up in England and has Indian family heritage. His response demonstrated that these identities need not cancel one another out. Why should someone have to choose between the place they call home and the heritage of their family? A person can be proud of their Indian, Nigerian, Jamaican or other heritage while also feeling a strong connection to England. One identity does not necessarily diminish another. The reverse should also be true: someone who does not personally identify as English should not be forced to do so. Braverman has every right to describe herself as British Asian. The issue is whether that personal understanding should be used to draw a boundary around everyone else’s identity. Saying “I do not feel English because of my ancestry” is a statement about oneself. Saying that Englishness is fundamentally ethnic raises a wider question about who can belong, regardless of their own experiences or sense of identity.
Things get even more complicated when we consider who gets to decide what makes someone part of a nation. In August 2026, Rupert Lowe, leader of Restore Britain, was questioned by the BBC’s Nick Robinson about whether King Charles III could be classified as a “white Briton” under a definition used in a report that required both parents to have been born in the UK. The question arose because Charles’s father, Prince Philip, was born in Greece. Lowe declined to give a direct answer.
Photo: Byline Times
The exchange illustrates how definitions based on parentage can produce unexpected results, even when applied to the British monarchy. If national belonging depends on the birthplace of one’s parents, then the question becomes whether the same rules should apply consistently to everyone, regardless of their position, appearance or family history. It is easy to keep adjusting the criteria until they exclude the people one wants to exclude. But this leaves us with a definition of national identity that depends less on a consistent principle than on where someone chooses to draw the line.
A similar argument frequently appears online: imagine a white person born in China claiming to be Chinese. Would people accept that identity in the same way they would accept anyone born in England claiming to be English? There are legitimate questions here about citizenship, ethnicity, language, culture and social acceptance. Being born in a country does not automatically mean someone shares every aspect of its culture, and national identities are not understood identically everywhere. But why should skin colour alone determine whether a person can belong? A white person born and raised in China might identify as Chinese in a cultural or national sense, depending on their circumstances and how they understand their identity. Others might distinguish between Chinese nationality and Chinese ethnicity. The same distinction can be made in England. These are not always straightforward questions, but they demonstrate why identity cannot be settled simply by looking at someone.
Ultimately, I think this debate is about more than Suella Braverman’s personal identity. It is about the kind of country England wants to be and the people who are allowed to feel that they belong. England has changed considerably over the generations. Its population includes people whose families arrived decades or centuries ago, alongside those who migrated more recently. Many people have grown up speaking English, attending English schools, supporting English sports teams and building their lives in England, while also maintaining connections to their family’s heritage.
For these people, being told that they can be British but not English may feel like a rejection of a part of their identity that they have never had reason to question. It can also send a troubling message to children growing up in a country they regard as their own: that no matter where they were born or how deeply they feel connected to England, their appearance may always place their belonging in doubt.
Photo: Sky News
Critics of Braverman’s comments argue that this kind of rhetoric is divisive because it risks reinforcing the idea that Englishness is reserved for white people. That criticism deserves to be taken seriously, particularly when the debate involves politicians with platforms that can influence how people view their neighbours and fellow citizens. At the same time, people should be able to take pride in England’s history, traditions and cultural heritage without being accused of racism simply for valuing them. The challenge is distinguishing between celebrating a national identity and treating that identity as the exclusive property of one ethnic group. There is room to acknowledge England’s historical roots while recognising that the country, like every society, has changed. Heritage can be important without becoming a test that people must pass to be accepted.
Braverman is entitled to her own identity. But no single politician should have the final say over how someone else understands theirs. If someone is born and raised in England, considers it home and identifies as English, why should their skin colour or family ancestry automatically disqualify them? Perhaps the more important question is not how many generations someone must trace their family back to prove they belong, but why we should be asking them to prove it in the first place.
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