Born in London in 1983, Reggie Yates is an actor, broadcaster and writer. He made his first television appearance aged eight in Desmond’s, and went on to appear in Grange Hill, Doctor Who and Rastamouse. At 18, he joined the team at BBC 1Xtra, and later became a regular on Radio 1 and Top of the Pops. He is an award-winning documentary-maker exploring identity and global politics and also writes and directs films, such as 2021’s Pirates. A new series of The Reggie Yates Podcast is available later this month.
Being from a Ghanaian immigrant family, there was always a function at the weekends. Mum wasn’t long divorced when this was taken; she was a real social animal and us kids were always dragged along to whatever party was happening. Hence the ridiculous outfit.
I was a bit of a ham as a kid. My thing was making adults laugh, and I loved being around people, enjoying the applause. I was fearless, too, very loud, playful and silly. From a young age it was clear I liked performing, so mum sent me to Anna Scher’s community drama club, where Daniel Kaluuya and Kathy Burke went. It cost almost nothing to attend.
Growing up in Islington, I was aware of the major wealth disparity. On my walk to school there were gorgeous, million-pound properties at one end of the street, and council blocks, which is where I grew up, on the other. I didn’t have much of a budget for posters, but I did once save up for a hip-hop magazine that had a picture of TLC in it that I stuck on the wall, next to the sleeves of cassette tapes I’d collected. Mum didn’t want me going to other kids’ houses much, but one time she did let me, and it was a real shock. I thought my friend had his own park because his garden was so big. Islington was the sort of place where you got a social education, whether you wanted it or not.
Anna Scher had its own talent agency, and when I was eight they sent me for an audition for Desmond’s. Mum was a medical secretary at the time, and to try to help me out she scribbled my lines on to these tiny flashcards. They were so hard to read, but I still got the part. One of my next jobs was acting in a sketch with Stephen Fry on A Bit of Fry and Laurie. That was a real shift; an experience that left me with this sense of eternal optimism. I had been thrust from a council estate into the same room as the people that I was watching on TV. Suddenly, anything felt possible.
Things were a bit weird at school after I got on TV. Thanks to Anna, a lot of students from Islington ended up on telly – everyone on EastEnders, London’s Burning and The Bill came from her school. Because of that, the teacher’s attitude towards me was: “Oh, you’re part of that club now.”
If I was shooting something, I would need time off, and while the rest of the kids didn’t care because they weren’t really watching the shows I was in, the teachers did. They would tell me that if I was disruptive, I’d lose everything, that I’d have to stop acting. I had a target on my back, even if I was a straight-A student, and they assumed I would start acting out. But I was never going to be some flash dickhead; my mum wouldn’t let me. When I was 13, I interviewed the Spice Girls and the first thing she said when I got home was: “Oh great, now go and do the washing-up.” It wasn’t even my day to do that chore!
In my teens, I was a little low on confidence, mostly with girls. Partly because I was at an all-boys school, but also because I felt different. When I was making kids’ TV, the rest of the cast all had crushes on each other because the guys looked like the members of the Backstreet Boys. Then there was me – this random black boy that nobody fancied. I thought: “Oh well. I suppose no one likes me.” I’d like to say things have changed, but I’m 41 without any kids. So you do the maths!
When I studied at Camberwell Art College, we were given a year out to see the world. During that time, my career properly started – I’d been given a role at 1Xtra and Top of the Pops, as well as CBBC – so I never went back. Aged 18, I had three separate full-time jobs, six days a week, and a mortgage. It sounds weird, but it didn’t feel unusual as there was a pack of us doing it: Fearne Cotton, Holly Willoughby and Stephen Mulhern. I was pretty focused: I don’t drink and was never a drugs kid. It always felt like there was too much to lose.
The first interview I did as a presenter was on Top of the Pops. I spoke to Sting and for some reason I had dressed in a brown corduroy suit from Topshop with matching sneakers. I also had a crap tash and braids. I was like, “Hi Mr Sting”, and asked him the dumbest questions. I remember him looking at me like, “Who is this guy? Get me out of here.” There were lots of those awkward moments growing up on TV, but I can’t feel too embarrassed as I was just a baby.
In my early 20s, I made my first documentary in Kibera, a massive slum in Kenya. It was a life-changing experience: when I walked back into my home in London, one of the first things I saw was a room full of shoes. I’d accrued them over the years and had considered them some kind of achievement, when really it was just consumerism. It felt gross. I had been living with kids without a single pair of shoes, while I had thousands, many of which I’d never worn. After that I realised that I wanted to live differently. I called a company that ships clothes to people in Africa and they took most of what I had. I knew I needed to do more with my voice.
The best part of my life now as a writer and director is the variety. One day I can be making a documentary about racism, and the next day I’ll be doing the voice of Rastamouse. I can make silly comedy films, or a drama about suicide. And if I’m not working, I make ice-cream in my blender. I made a lemon sorbet yesterday. When I’m not making ice-cream, I’m researching recipes, or sending pictures of my ice-cream to friends, which they all hate.
Being on TV for three decades has given me a pretty thick skin, but sometimes the world can still get in the way of how I express myself. In many ways, I would like to be a bit more like the boy in that photo. He’s not worried about judgment or criticism, he’s just being himself. I actually got a couple of double-breasted suits recently. They look great. Not with a bow tie, though. But maybe one day.
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