Or has the reduction of social media fury allowed you to forget? We may all be tired but change is long overdue. Black lives matter and the time to act is now.
It’s been a long couple of weeks. I’ve processed so many different emotions: anger, frustration, sadness, grief, empowerment and joy. The acts of police brutality in the US, including but not exclusive to the murder of George Floyd, have triggered me. If that wasn’t enough, black people are still being killed every week.
The emotions I’m feeling are not new. However, recent events acts have opened up past wounds to a depth I have not felt before. I’ve been mentally replaying in my head my own experiences of racism and prejudice, here in the UK. All this alongside the mental duress that comes from being in a global pandemic.
What is racism?
Racism is a systemic power construct which denies equal value to the life, freedom and potential of certain groups of people based on the colour of their skin. This goes beyond individual words, beliefs or actions, and may not always be conscious. Instead, it encompasses all barriers that prevent people of a certain race from enjoying the same dignity as the majority group.
Racism (including but not limited to anti-blackness) can manifest itself in several ways, from individual actions through to institutional cultures. I can feel it when I see non-black people shouting the ‘n-word’ in a club because they don’t feel the full weight of its meaning. I see it when I read that black women are 5 times more likely than white women to die due to complications in pregnancy. I also see it in the disproportionate impact of COVID-19 on black and other ethnic minorities. I see it in the glorification of the British Empire in the biased teaching of history in the British education system. The UK is far from being a post-racial society, regardless of the attempts of our politicians and media to frame it as such.
Reflections on my past experiences as a black woman
I have operated within and navigated white-majority spaces my whole life. I also refer to racism knowing that I’ve had not had to struggle through life in an economic or social sense. I went to private school, I graduated from a top 10 university, I’ve travelled to different continents and I work at a top professional services firm. I grew up in a two-parent household and both my parents have multiple degrees. I don’t say any of this to brag but to demonstrate that none of these facts can transcend the fact that I am a black woman. I will never have white privilege, and I have not escaped from racism.
There are so many experiences I can point to whilst growing up that speak to the implicit and explicit biases that people have against black people. I’ve been stopped in my car whilst driving alone for a “random spot check” by the police. I remember being called an ‘Oreo’ at university, because apparently “I’m not really black”, whatever that means.
The issue of fetishisation also complicates my position in society as a black woman. Last year, I was approached in a club by some random white girl. She told me that she wished she was black and that she had my skin. She talked to me for about 10 minutes telling me how lucky I was. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable. Her friend ended up dragging her away with a half-baked apology. Fetishisation is not cool, kids.
Microaggressions
A colleague at work once told me that “I don’t sound how I look”. In my head, I really wanted to challenge them. But I bit my tongue at the expense of my own inner peace. By the way, saying that you’re surprised at how articulate I am is a discriminatory comment disguised as a compliment. This is a microaggression:
These [racial] assaults to black dignity and black hope are incessant and cumulative. Any single one may be gross. In fact, the major vehicle for racism in this country is offenses done to blacks by whites in this sort of gratuitous neverending way. These offenses are microaggressions. Almost all black±white racial interactions are characterized by white put-downs, done in automatic, preconscious, or unconscious fashion. These mini disasters accumulate. It is the sum total of multiple microaggressions by whites to blacks that has pervasive effect to the stability and peace of this world.
Chester M. Pierce, who coined the term ‘microaggression’ in the 1970s
Microaggressions have deep consequences on the receiver’s mental health. It can chip away at your inner sense of self, and also make you feel like you don’t belong. Sometimes microaggressions are not even that micro.
In primary school, I was told by a white male “friend” that he could never marry a black person because it would be “wrong”. I was confused because the colour of my skin had never been an issue before, or so I thought. My race didn’t seem to matter in our friendship. It didn’t even matter during any of playground marriages that happened when we were much younger. But then again the marriages were make-believe, and he wasn’t such a great friend after all. I wasted time trying to change his opinion as I couldn’t fully articulate my feelings. Beating him up would have also been an unacceptable response. I was deeply hurt and felt unattractive. The insinuation that a relationship with a black woman was immoral in some way also did not sit well with me.
When it came to the time for 11+, I also didn’t understand my classmates who questioned why I was applying to private secondary schools. I was the only black girl in class doing the 11+. But I had white classmates in the same position, who did not face the same questioning. Luckily, I had teachers and parents that believed in me. I passed all my entrance tests, so the joke is on them.
Unlearning internalised anti-blackness
Although I’m very much over it all, these experiences did have an impact on the way I used to see myself in relation to my white friends and peers. The lack of visibility of black women in the media I consumed didn’t help. Where were the black girls in the toy stores, on my TV screens or in my children’s books? I didn’t see any black British female protagonists operating in the same majority-white spaces as me. I do recall Raven Symoné on the Disney Channel, but that was only in an American context.
I don’t want to turn this into a pity party as my experiences are not unique. I haven’t even touched on my hair or my name, because otherwise, I could be here all day – #Triggered. I also know that some of my experiences pale in comparison to those of others, especially those who are darker-skinned.
I’m ashamed to say that I’ve not always been proud in my own skin. I internalised a lot of the anti-blackness I experienced during my childhood. The viral video of the 4-year-old girl touched a nerve because there have been times where I felt the same way. I’ve worked hard to unlearn the prejudices I had towards my own skin.
I also recognise that all these experiences inevitably inspired my work ethic. My parents never explicitly told me the age-old adage about having to work twice as hard. I realised this myself from a very young age. Thankfully, I’ve always known I’m intelligent, hardworking and that I’m going to succeed in life. However, now that I’m older, I know that I am smart and beautiful at the same time, and I would not give up my blackness for anything.
No more silence and no more ignorance
A barrier to progress is that people who speak up against racial discrimination are often accused of overreacting or being too sensitive. The offended quickly becomes the offender. Too much effort goes into convincing the victim that you’re not racist. Instead, this energy should be refocused on battling the implicit biases that people have in the first place.
We also need to reduce the burden of proof that lies on the people who are calling out racism or bias. Give that person the benefit of the doubt. Don’t turn it back on the person who has the courage to speak up. Reflect on your words or actions, and confront your own prejudices.
I honestly don’t know why it has taken me this long, but I’ve made a commitment to myself that I will no longer just take it. I’ve been guilty of not being vocal because I didn’t want to come across as disagreeable. This is especially crazy to me because I know how outspoken I am when I’m with close friends, but that is the value of having a safe space. I’ve self-censored and suffered in silence, but cannot afford to do that anymore. My feelings are valid and should not be suppressed. My black life matters.
Others also need to speak up when they witness these offences too. And yes, it can be awkward. But the more we discuss race and our implicit biases, which we all have, the easier these conversations will become.
Do not turn a blind eye when you come across a racist act, big or small. The time to act is now.
Yomi Adegoke
Battling tiredness
I haven’t even finished saying everything I want to say and I’m exhausted. What makes this worse is the unspoken requirement for black people to demonstrate visible trauma for the world to pay attention and start caring. I want to switch off sometimes, but being black is my life. I will continue to be black and that will never change.
If you’re tired of hearing about racism, imagine how tired people are of experiencing it.
As exhausted as we may all be, we cannot stop. We must all take mental breaks, but we cannot afford to take our foot off the gas. When I say we, I mean everyone, regardless of their race. If you’ve got this far, I assume you’re black and feel the same way as me. Or if you’re not black, I assume that you stand in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement. Well, I’ve seen your solidarity; now, what are your plans?
What we need
I’ve set out 5 key themes below on what I believe we need to see real change in the treatment of black people in our society.
Education
Education is important on an individual level. People need to understand the full extent of British history and may challenge their own implicit biases. I’m not going to reproduce a long list of resources on how to educate yourself. These have been circulating on social media for weeks, like this guide, for instance. I am not an expert on race, but I can speak to my experiences and those of people close to me. I’ve had to do a lot of internal work to educate myself on my own, and others need to do this work too.
Political change
We need change on an institutional level, as education on its own is not enough. We need to consistently apply pressure on our politicians. Although protesting can be effective, not everyone feels comfortable doing that. But coronavirus or fear of other negative consequences is not a barrier to writing to your MP, donating to a community fund, supporting black-owned businesses, or signing a petition on the government’s website. I don’t have the energy for anyone who thinks voting or other forms of political participation are in vain. If political policies don’t change, there will be minimal improvement in the lives of black people across the country. Our existence is political, and being apolitical is a luxury we cannot afford.
Representation and diversity
We need representation and inclusive diversity across all organisations and all levels, particularly senior management. A statement of commitment to diversity without inclusion is meaningless. If you really want people to “bring their full selves to work”, you need to provide an environment in which they feel comfortable to do so. At the same time, organisations love to use black and other ethnic minorities as poster staff for recruitment and PR purposes, whilst failing to address the lack of diversity at the top.
Black people, in so many organisations, lack role models that look like them. Non-black mentors are valuable, but will never understand the nuances of navigating the workplace as a black person. Additionally, we’ve all seen the tone-deaf products and campaigns of some companies. In the absence of self-enlightenment, supporting the involvement of black people in decision-making could help these companies cater to their black customers without offending them.
There is a lot more I could say on race in the workplace, but I will point you to the 26 recommendations from the 2017 McGregor-Smith review. The findings are summarised on page 32 — don’t say I didn’t make it easy for you. There is a clear business case for diversity. However, we should pursue diversity and inclusion because it is the right thing to do.
Black data (not BAME)
You only need to look at the recent report on the impact of COVID-19 on BAME groups by Public Health England to see the power of data. We need more studies covering different spheres of life with a particular focus on black people as the independent variable. For example, we need studies that look at barriers to progression at work for black staff, and we also need ethnicity pay gap reporting.
BAME data has been somewhat useful but can conflate many of the issues. Freedom from racism for all ethnic minorities is important. But to fight anti-blackness requires a recognition of the issues black people face in their own right. Looking only at BAME data cannot tell us which ethnic groups might be falling behind others. BAME data could also be skewed by the progress of one particular ethnic group.
Data is also a useful political lobbying tool. It enables the measurement of progress and provides the ability to hold our leaders to account, both our politicians and our bosses at work. Without data, it is all too easy for our leaders to deny that there is a real problem. Without data, it is also too easy for our leaders to make empty statements about the changes they’ve implemented, which may have no real results.
Black joy
Finally, we need to amplify black voices and consume black joy. The danger with overlooking the “softer” side of the black experience is that it creates a single story. There is more to black life than pain and struggle. So whilst you’re doing your research on racism, please also find something non-educational that showcases the black community. Everyone should be exposed to black success stories, black content and black joy, not only in the usual arenas of music and sport, but also in literature, art, television, science, journalism, business, fashion, etc. Black joy centres black people, and allows for the sharing of several narratives.
All of these stories make me who I am. But to insist on only these negative stories is to flatten my experience and to overlook the many other stories that formed me. The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
In conclusion, Black Lives Matter
Recent events are a stark reminder that racial discrimination, inequality and injustice still exists today. A window has opened where people are willing to listen and to contribute to change. I understand that change does not happen overnight, but we need to act. Otherwise, we will find ourselves waiting for another traumatic black death to “shock” society, accompanied by a meaningless string of statements of solidarity.
I do remain hopeful, as this time feels different. I’m having more open and honest conversations about race than I’ve ever had before. People are willing to listen and I feel more empowered to speak up now. We must continue to educate ourselves, to put pressure on our leaders and to speak up when we witness instances of injustice. Social media has been a great tool to spread awareness. But let’s face it, the issues that black people face in society are not new. As I said at the beginning of this post, change is long overdue.
It is day 2 for you. And its day 11,608 for me…
Candice Braithwaite
The wheels are set in motion, and it’s up to everyone to keep them rolling until black people have the dignity and equality they deserve. We can no longer afford to be non-racist, but we must be actively anti-racist.
I’m not interested in living in a world where my race is not a part of who I am. I am interested in living in a world where our races, no matter what they are, don’t define our trajectory in life.
Kerry Washington
Black lives matter. Let’s keep the momentum going.