Janet Mendelsohn was an American photography student at Birmingham University, making a photo essay of inner city Balsall Heath. I vaguely remember her taking this picture, clicking away as we played on the “bomb peck”, a bomb site just behind our house on Clevedon Road. I was eight years old. Today, the street backs on to parkland; back then, it was this wasteland.
We would stamp on the ground, listening out for the hollow sound of the cellars of bombed-out houses, where we could make dens. There were a lot of old doors lying around, which were perfect for building camps such as this one.
I always left the house clean and got back home filthy. We collected scrap metal – we called it “tatting” – and took little pieces to the scrap man for pocket money. Looking at this photograph today, you would think it was much earlier than 1968. It has the look of poverty about it, but that wasn’t the case: Balsall Heath was a working-class area, but we were always sent out clean and tidy, and we were well fed. You can see from the picture that my socks started out clean and white, and I’m wearing a lovely dress. My mum was on her own with me and my three younger siblings by this point, and she sometimes struggled, but we never went without.
Mendelsohn’s essay focused on the prostitutes working locally in and around Varna Road (it no longer exists), in particular a woman she called Kathleen. Balsall Heath was Birmingham’s largest red-light district. A lady of the night lived across the road from us, and she was very friendly. You often saw condoms lying around. Mum was always open with us about it, explaining what these women did in language we could understand.
A few years later, the area was completely cleared and regenerated. We moved out in early 1970, and were one of the last to leave on our side of the street. Our house was torn down. Some Victorian houses still stand, but mostly new homes were built, all modern and open-plan.
I first saw this photograph a few months ago, on a Facebook page about Balsall Heath. I recognised myself immediately. I was over the moon; I did lots of research into the background to it, and into Janet Mendelsohn. I went to see the exhibition in Birmingham, and it sparked a lot of memories. It has been featured on posters, postcards and even on the back of local buses – everyone’s seen it.
I overheard some people at the show saying how we looked like tramps. That wasn’t nice – or true. Rather, I see a little girl with her arms in the air, striking a pose, who lived in a carefree society knitted together by a strong sense of belonging.
To me, it’s not just an old photograph: it’s me, and I feel really proud of that. And it means I’ll be able to show my grandchildren how I once lived.
• The exhibition Janet Mendelsohn: Varna Road is at the Ikon Gallery, Birmingham, until 3 April. Are you in a notable photograph? Email thatsme@theguardian.com
