Homophobia bought my flat
YASMIN VINCE ponders what to do with an unexpected inheritance
What would you do to get on the property ladder? Gone are the days when one breadwinner on an average salary could afford a two-bed with a white picket fence. Instead, those of us renting, especially in cities, are shelling out the majority of our monthly paychecks on poky, mould-ridden rooms that we share with four flatmates. So what would you be willing to do to finally own your home and start saving money? Move back in with your parents? Take out a sketchy loan? I took money from a homophobe.
My grandmother died 13 years ago, when I hadn’t even reached double digits. When I knew her, she was the greatest woman who ever lived. I’d been told stories of her childhood in Bangladesh, about how her father felt girls weren’t worthy of an education, so she stole her brothers’ textbooks and taught herself science, eventually becoming a botanist. I was told about how she faced off against BNP skinheads, armed with only scissors to protect her children. In my own head, she resembled a painting of a Renaissance saint, with a golden halo permanently around her head. Last year, when my grandfather died, their identical wills left everything to me and my sisters.