I’ve started to feel a bit more angry; not going to lie about it.
I want to stay informed the best that I can. But today I am too tired to look at the news. Not because I am lazy but because it’s all about these riots, right? Race riots that capture the thuggery of the far-right fascists. The idea that I am watching, listening, seeing images and videos of people who look like me; who look like my brother, my mother, my cousin; who are being targeted by a characteristic they cannot change.
Rage against racism
Trust me, I have wished to change my dark complexion for many years; since I first recognised that it wasn’t the same as my peers. The desire to address racism and Islamophobia is a hot topic right now and justifiably so. When these race riots quieten down in two- or three-weeks’ time, and there’s a new news story, perhaps this collective rage will also quieten down.
Yet this rage I have is not dying down. It’s the same rage I had with the murder of George Floyd, but I think this is worse. George Floyd felt far away. Oh, it’s in America, and America has guns and Donald Trump; it just felt different. We marched in a state of disbelief, anger and we marched for hope.
Although the murder of Floyd did evoke change in parts of the western world like the United States, the overt racism and division between black and white felt like an American problem. The discussions around racial division felt foreign amongst British people
Racism as micro-aggressions
UK racism has always felt like micro aggressions. I want to touch your hair. Let’s compare ‘tan’ lines. Where are you really from? And some snide looks of course. But never overtly calling me the N word. Never overtly saying ‘you don’t belong here’.
Never have I felt threatened or scared to leave my house. Yes, I live in the countryside, so perhaps I’ve been shielded from what many people of colour experience in cities across the UK. But when I was recently asked to take the (white) kids that I look after to London, I felt the unrest in my chest.
Why am I so anxious about going to our capital city? About going to my closest city, a well-known city. A city I’ve visited, travelled through and created memories in since I was a preteen.
Increased anxieties for people of colour
I found myself googling: “are there any protests planned for London today?” Actually no, sorry, I googled: “Are there any race riots planned in London today?”
I mean listen: maybe it’s safe, maybe it’s fine. But it’s that fear. What happens if I’m with two 12-year-olds and someone tries to attack me? Or we’re trapped in some kind of commotion, rushing into shops, hiding from the terror that awaits us from outside. What do I do then?
I felt it when I was driving recently. A man pulled up beside me and we had a bit of an altercation; call it an exchange of views about where he thought I could, and couldn’t, stop my vehicle. It might have just been pure road rage. But it was a classic white man in a white van, and I instantly felt threatened. Shall I lock my doors? I need to lock my doors. Just in case our road rage conversation gets worse.
Yesterday, I walked past an elderly woman with, who I assumed to be, her grandson. She pulled him in close, away from me, with a stern stare. This could be me; this could just be paranoia. It could be just me feeling on edge, feeling like every interaction I have is to do with my race.
But it is! And white people don’t get that.
I’m not saying all white people don’t get that. But how could they? They can sympathise, but they will never know that feeling of fear that black and brown folk grow up living with. We didn’t ask to be born in these bodies, black or white.
Is there hope?
I don’t think I’m ready for the positivity and hope some argue for in these situations. It doesn’t feel realistic. For me I wanted hope in 2011, I wanted hope in 2020, and now in 2024 of course I still want hope. But it just doesn’t feel realistic when there’s so much anger. It doesn’t feel realistic when I feel so much genuine pain.
This was supposed to be about three little girls who tragically lost their lives. Yet now it’s about immigration, anti-immigration, legal or illegal, refugees, ‘stop the boats’. Immigration is a highly complex and layered issue. A complexity that these thugs either don’t, or refuse to, understand. For many of them it is simple: brown and black people are different and do not belong in ‘my country’. This is inflamed by the tired and easily debunked tropes spread by social media commentators and dog-whistling politicians – familiar lies about stealing people’s jobs and putting pressure on the NHS.
When the actuality of the situation is distilled, such rhetoric is usually revealed to be driven by racism and Islamophobia. Black and brown people, minority communities, and all kinds of immigrants are still being scapegoated by a very loud minority. It wasn’t meant to be about us, it was meant to be about those three girls: Elsie Dot Stancombe, Alice Dasilva Aguiar and Bebe King. May they rest in peace.
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