Swapping skins: black and white

'The make-up sessions took two-and-a-half hours each. Over six weeks, I went out as black seven times. They had a special set of teeth made which projected my lips forward slightly and altered the shape of my mouth. Tiny hoops were wedged in my nostrils to flare them and my hair was shaved, then dyed black. They used prosthetics to alter the shape of my nose. But mostly it was a paint job. They had to apply make-up to my hands as well, so it took ages. They also gave me a gold tooth, which I fought against because I thought it was stereotypical.

It was an odd process. You can't touch your face - even when it itches. It took a while getting used to my new appearance. My wife Sue's reaction was weird to begin with. She thought she'd be cool with it. But she had a strong emotional reaction - she cried. I don't think she could explain why that was.

I went to a Leicester City football match. When I walked down into the concourse it was a sea of white faces. I thought, "I'm the only black one." There were more black faces on the pitch. It was rather intimidating. At least a quarter of the people who passed me stared. In Thame, you find yourself staring at a black person simply because it's unusual to see them in that area. So I knew, as white me, that I'd be staring too. But as black me, I was staring back as if to say, "Yeah, what?" I became a lot more assertive. It wasn't a decision I made. It just grew out of the experience.

I thought I'd probably see outright racism but that didn't happen. But my reactions really took me by surprise. At one point Sue, who is white, and I went shopping in Oxford. Two guys nudged each other, whispered something, then laughed.

I reacted in quite an aggressive way. I wanted to confront them. As a white man, I would not have known what they found so funny. But as a black person I made the assumption they were making fun of my skin colour. And I was not ashamed. I was in the right. I knew they were wrong.

When I walked up Coldharbour Lane in Brixton as a white person, with a black youth worker, I felt very conspicuous. It was quite unnerving. But when I did it again as black, I felt less conspicuous and more comfortable.

Generally, as black me, I expected to get abuse from white people, but that didn't happen. The differences were mainly in me. I was much more assertive and positive as black me than I am as white me. It was quite liberating and I was disappointed when the experiment ended.

Daniel, 37, is black. He owns a record company and a hairdressing business and lives in north London with his partner and two children. He spent a few days as a white man.

'I was shocked when I first saw myself in make-up. I was given false ears, my nose was extended and they made my bottom lip look thinner by padding out my chin. I looked like a middle-class Jew.

My family were against the project but they weren't able to articulate exactly why. My friends also had very strong opinions. They said, "Take it off ! You're freaking us out."

I went to the Rotary Club annual dinner and dance in Croydon. They were holding a boxing tournament - the Army versus South East London Boxing Club. The only black people in the room were in the boxing ring or serving us food. I was sitting at the head table, with a hidden microphone, opposite an ex-policeman who is a Mason. He invited me to his next lodge meeting.

Another time I went to Walthamstow dog stadium and walked up to what I thought looked like the ugliest character, a 20-stone skinhead with love-and-hate tattoos. Normally, I'd stay well clear of someone like that. He taught me how to gamble, befriended me and even won me £100. We went back four weeks later as my normal black self and he was equally nice. When I told him he'd met me before as a white man, he gave me a big hug and said, "I don't give a f*** what race you are."

In the streets I felt I was treated differently. People don't look back at you once you've passed them. They don't clutch their handbags quite so hard. In white skin I was more invisible. When I went back to Walthamstow dogs as myself, I was stared at. But when I went as a white guy, white people would stand right next to me with a wedge of money in their hands and not move away slightly.

I went to a black comedy night with a black female friend and as I was the only "white" person in the audience I expected to experience some bigotry. I thought there would be some looks and some attitude. But it didn't happen.

Throughout the experience I never, ever felt white. Who you are is so ingrained. A mask doesn't make you feel different. But my preconceptions were challenged. I come from quite a militant stance and thought I had white people sussed. But I discovered that maybe I had illusions.

I had used my particular experiences with white people to surmise that they were all like that. It was nice for me to get back to the belief that we are all individuals. I'd definitely do it again.

Trading Races, BBC2, 9pm 29 and 30 January.