Let’s get one thing straight from the start: I’m not that Dean Jones—the Australian cricketer and coach. Although, that’s the first assumption people often make when they hear my name. Am I a cricket fan? Not particularly. But I have a deep appreciation for the game. You see, my father used to coach cricket, and I’ve known the sting of a heavy red ball since the age of seven. Despite the so-called protection gear, a well-bowled ball still hurts when it hits you. That said, my real journey has nothing to do with batting averages and wickets—but everything to do with the enduring story of migration, home, and identity that ties two places together: Brixton in South London and Islington in St. Mary, Jamaica.
This story is about the people who left one home to make another, only to find themselves caught in the gravity of both places. It is about the push and pull between dreams and reality, between concrete jungles and tropical hillsides. And ultimately, it is about real estate—not just in terms of physical property, but the deeper notion of what it means to own space, identity, and belonging.
Islington and Brixton: Two Corners of the Black Atlantic
Islington, a quiet town tucked in the hills of St. Mary parish, is the kind of place where mornings start with rooster calls and breadfruit roasting on coal stoves. Brixton, on the other hand, is a buzzing, multicultural hub in South London where reggae blares from speakers and the scent of jerk chicken mingles with fish and chips on Electric Avenue.
At first glance, these two places couldn’t be more different. But scratch beneath the surface, and you’ll find a deep historical and emotional tether. That link, of course, is the Great Caribbean Migration of the mid-20th century.
In 1948, the arrival of the Empire Windrush at Tilbury Docks marked the start of a new chapter. Jamaicans, like those from Islington and beyond, began migrating to Britain in search of opportunity. They were invited to help rebuild a post-war Britain in need of labor. From nurses to train conductors, from factory workers to bus drivers—Caribbean hands helped hold up the infrastructure of modern Britain.
Brixton quickly became a home away from home for many Jamaicans. Its relatively affordable housing and proximity to central London made it a hub for the Caribbean diaspora. As early as the 1950s, you could find a taste of “yaad” in Brixton—record shops selling ska and rocksteady, Caribbean takeaways serving curry goat, and social clubs where patois flew freely.
Why We Left: Push and Pull Factors
For those who left Islington for Brixton, the reasons were complex and layered. Economic hardship in post-colonial Jamaica was one. Even in fertile St. Mary—once a thriving center of banana and sugar production—jobs were scarce. Education and healthcare systems were under strain. And for many, the dream of England, “the Mother Country,” shimmered like gold.
Yet the migration wasn’t simply about poverty; it was also about ambition. Jamaicans were proud, literate, and hardworking. They wanted more than survival—they wanted prosperity and respect. And Britain, with its strong pound and promises of modern living, seemed to offer that.
But what many found upon arrival was not what they had imagined. The welcome was cold, housing was often substandard, and racism was a daily reality. Landlords hung signs that read “No Blacks, No Irish, No Dogs.” Still, the Caribbean community persisted, adapted, and eventually thrived.
The Returnees and the Loop of Migration
By the 1970s and 1980s, a new trend emerged: the return migration. As Britain’s economic challenges deepened, and as post-independence Jamaica grew in confidence, many Jamaicans who had “made it” in England began returning home—often with a dream of building a house, starting a business, or retiring in the land of their birth.
Islington saw its fair share of returnees. They built large homes—sometimes called “British mansions”—with iron gates, ceramic tiles, and big verandas. These homes became symbols of success. They dotted the hills like trophies, gleaming with stories of hard work abroad.
But not all returnees stayed. Some found reintegration difficult. Their children, raised in Britain, struggled with patois and local customs. Infrastructure in rural Jamaica was lacking—no reliable water, intermittent electricity, limited healthcare. Many returned only to find they no longer belonged fully in Jamaica or Britain.
And so, the cycle continued. New generations migrated back to the UK, Canada, and the US, while others stayed behind, holding on to ancestral land and memories of a life between two shores.
Homeownership and Identity
This back-and-forth has had significant real estate implications. The value of land in rural areas like Islington increased, not only because of local demand, but because of foreign remittances and diaspora investments. Jamaicans abroad sent money home to build, buy, and improve properties. According to Bank of Jamaica data, remittances make up over 16% of GDP, with much of that money flowing into construction and housing.
In Brixton, however, the opposite occurred. As gentrification crept into South London, property values skyrocketed. Longtime Black residents who had bought homes in the 1970s and ‘80s saw their equity grow—but many were also priced out or pressured to sell by developers. Brixton’s Caribbean soul began to fade under a wave of artisanal coffee shops and luxury flats.
This transformation created a new tension: what happens when your “home” becomes unrecognizable? For many, the concept of home became less about location and more about legacy. Owning land in Islington became an emotional anchor. Even if they didn’t live there full-time, having a place to call their own in Jamaica became a form of cultural insurance.
Historical Milestones: How Policy Shaped Movement
Several key events and policies impacted this migration dance:
- 1948 – Windrush arrives: The British Nationality Act gave Commonwealth citizens the right to live and work in the UK.
- 1962 – Jamaica gains independence: Sparking national pride but also uncertainty, prompting some to stay in the UK longer.
- 1968 & 1971 – Commonwealth Immigrants Acts: These severely restricted new immigration, leading many to “settle for good.”
- 1990s–2000s – Deportation and citizenship confusion: Many who had lived in Britain for decades faced legal uncertainty—culminating in the Windrush Scandal of 2018.
- 2000s onward – Diaspora investment campaigns: The Jamaican government actively encouraged diaspora investment in real estate and small business.
Each of these milestones shifted the narrative of who belonged where, and how.
A New Generation of Builders and Buyers
Today, the story continues with a new generation—children and grandchildren of that first wave—rediscovering their Jamaican roots. Some are buying land in places like Islington, Portland, and Manchester. Others are launching startups, Airbnb rentals, or eco-lodges. Digital nomads and repats see Jamaica not as a fallback but as a frontier.
Technology is also helping bridge the gap. Platforms like Jamaica Homes, and other real estate sites are enabling diaspora Jamaicans to explore listings, hire contractors, and even attend virtual property viewings. Developers are now tailoring housing solutions to dual citizens and returnees who want part-time residences or retirement homes.
Meanwhile, in places like Brixton, a counter-movement is forming. Community land trusts, co-ops, and local campaigns aim to reclaim housing justice. The spirit of resistance—born from decades of struggle—still beats strong.
Conclusion: Two Names, Two Places, One Heart
So no, I’m not the Dean Jones who made centuries for Australia. I’m the Dean who grew up in Islington and saw the world from the hills of St. Mary before stepping onto London’s grey pavements. My story is shared by thousands who have lived in both Brixton and Kingston—or somewhere in between.
The deeper lesson is this: real estate is more than land and concrete. It’s memory. It’s migration. It’s movement and meaning.
To own a home in Islington or Brixton is to hold onto a piece of history—a story of survival, love, and legacy. Whether we return, stay, or leave again, we carry these places in our hearts. And through real estate, we make those connections tangible—for ourselves, our children, and the ones yet to come.