Myrtle Stephen-Dell

Myrtle Stephen arrived in England in October 1958 at the age of 24, stepping off a plane in London with her two-year-old son in her arms. She had left her village near Kingston, Jamaica, to join her husband, who was employed at the Goodyear Tyre factory in Wolverhampton. The family began their new life in a single rented room with frosty walls, a sharp contrast to the warmth and familiarity of Jamaica. Determined to contribute financially and build a future, Myrtle soon sought work in the National Health Service and began her career at New Cross Hospital in Wolverhampton.

Inspired by a trained English midwife she had known in Jamaica, Myrtle aspired to become a State Enrolled Nurse (SEN), a formal two-year training programme widely respected within the NHS at the time. However, the lack of family support in England to care for her young son made full-time training impossible, as it involved irregular shifts and study commitments. Instead, in 1959 she took up the role of auxiliary nurse at New Cross Hospital. This position required no formal qualifications but demanded considerable physical and emotional resilience. Her daily routine was arduous: she would dress her son warmly, take him by bus to an English woman on Compton Road who provided childcare, then travel across Wolverhampton using the Number 10 bus to the town centre followed by the Number 59 before walking the final half mile to the hospital. She maintained this schedule through all weathers, aware that missing a bus could jeopardise her employment.

At New Cross Hospital, Myrtle worked primarily on geriatric wards under the supervision of Matron Allen, who had previously served in Jamaica’s colonial health service and became an important source of encouragement. Many elderly patients directed overt racist abuse towards her, including one who swung a walking stick while shouting “Go back to your own country!” Myrtle continued to provide care with professionalism, drawing on her own sense of how she would wish her mother to be treated. She developed practical skills in wound dressing, managing common medical conditions, and supporting patients’ daily needs, earning respect from both Caribbean and British colleagues. Despite her competence, however, she observed that opportunities for promotion and formal training were often directed towards younger white nurses she had helped mentor, while she remained in the auxiliary grade. She attributed this pattern to racial bias rather than lack of ability.

Myrtle eventually achieved her SEN qualification and was promoted to work in the maternity department, a milestone she regarded with considerable pride. Nevertheless, the combination of long hours – sometimes 14-hour shifts – single parenthood, and persistent prejudice took its toll. By 1962 she left nursing to become a bus conductor and later one of Wolverhampton’s first Black female bus drivers. In that role she encountered further hostility, including fare evasion by groups of Teddy Boys and an incident in which a passenger falsely accused her of causing an injury after slipping on ice. Police questioning followed, but witnesses supported her account.

Myrtle’s experience in the NHS was relatively brief compared with many of her contemporaries, yet it formed a significant part of her contribution to post-war Britain. Like many members of the Windrush generation, she entered the health service during a period of acute staffing shortages and faced systemic racism, limited childcare support, and unequal access to training and advancement. Despite these barriers, she demonstrated consistent dedication to patient care, upheld high standards of kindness and professionalism, and ultimately attained the SEN qualification she had long sought. Her later work as a bus driver reflected the same resilience, as she continued to serve the public in another essential role.

Reflecting on her life, Myrtle emphasised the broader contribution of Caribbean migrants to Britain’s hospitals, transport system, and society. She spoke of the dual reality of rejection and belonging: “England didn’t always love us, but we loved it enough to stay.” Years later, at a community event for Caribbean elders in Wolverhampton, a young nurse approached her to express gratitude, saying “You’re why I’m here.” Myrtle viewed this recognition as the most meaningful validation of her efforts. Her journey illustrates the tenacity, faith, and quiet determination that characterised many Black women who helped sustain the early NHS, often at considerable personal cost, and whose legacy continues to influence the service today.