The last month has been incredibly hard for me and many black people. I have felt so many emotions: rage, anguish, sadness and frustration. One of the most frustrating things that I found is the fact that people keep on telling me that racism doesn’t exist as much in the UK or that things are much better off here. As a black person, I know that racism exists in the UK and it is not any better.
I came to the UK when I was very young but even from there, I have experienced racism almost constantly. There are so many things that I could talk about in this article. I could talk about when I was in year nine and a guy came up to me, not even a friend at the time, and he said, “I have a joke for you, what’s the difference between a black man and a bench?” I said, knowing the answer was going to be racist, “what’s the difference?”. He replied eagerly, “a bench can support a family!”. I could spend this entire article discussing why that joke was so incredibly racist but suffice to say, that student knew my dad had been there for my family and yet he still thought was a hilarious joke to say, despite the fact that I was one of the only black people in the class.
I can talk about being in sixth form and how during Black History Month there was no plan assembly or speech, almost like it wasn’t important enough to talk about, despite the fact that pretty much every other holiday and historical event had an assembly. I decided to write my own speech and do my own assembly Black History Month. After which I was then asked by the teachers to lead sessions on Black History Month.
I think he also apologised, but mostly I just remember him telling me to stay quiet about it
I could talk about being in a History lesson and having my teacher tell the whole class that he worked as a tutor before he became a History teacher and he had many interesting stories. For example, the Russian family he worked for obviously being mob-related, or him making a very casual comment about how bad and corrupt Nigerans are and only stopping once I said I am Nigerian. He then proceeded to tell me to wait for him after class, as he needed to talk to me. During the conversation he begged me not to tell anyone about the incident. I think he also apologised, but mostly I just remember him telling me to stay quiet about it.
Someone asked me how I was enjoying being at university in England as an International student. I have a very British accent.
I could talk about my gap year, one of the worst years of my life, being at a Christian year out program and facing racist and homophobic microaggressions so often I wanted to leave.
I could talk about my first day at university, chatting in a group in the common room, when someone asked me how I was enjoying being at university in England as an International student. I have a very British accent; so British that when I speak my native language of Yoruba my relatives laugh at me, and I was talking this entire time, so I asked what about me made them think I was an international student. Was it the fact that I was black? Interestingly enough, my friend Anna was with me at the time and she is an international student. She is from Spain and is white and wasn’t asked anything about her ‘international experience’.
I could talk about enrolment day at uni and how when I entered the David Ross building the organiser in charge of splitting the lines between international and British pointed anyone, and I do mean anyone, who wasn’t white to the international line including me. I had to tell him that I am British, and I have a British passport.
There was a group of black people who were slightly behind me and as they entered the building they were laughing and joking with each other. They all had very clear and distinct London accents. Despite this, the organiser in charge of separating the lines repeatedly waved them to the international student line. They ignored him until he insisted, and they had to explain to him they were not international students.
I could talk about the lovely morning of 13 June 2019 where I woke up to a message from a guy calling me a ‘filthy slave’, as he was upset that I had made comments against a pro life society on campus. He then proceeded to insist that he was not racist and that I was ‘pulling the race card’ when I said that he was being incredibly racist.
He felt confident his whiteness would protect him. Luckily it did not, and he was arrested
But what I really want to talk about is an incident in 2018 where I was assaulted and attacked in a racist and homophobic hate crime while trying to defend one of my friends from being raped. It remains the scariest night of my life. At points, I genuinely thought I was going to die. The attacker called me multiple racist slurs as well, and I tried my hardest not to let it show how much it affected me. But it did. My attacker felt able to say to me “go on call the police. Who do you think they’ll believe? Me or a nigger?” He felt confident his whiteness would protect him. Luckily it did not, and he was arrested.
It is increasingly frustrating to see people paint racism as a victimless crime
These are just incidents of racism that happened to me, and this list is not exhaustive. It is increasingly frustrating to see people paint racism as a victimless crime, a simple insult or case of hurt feelings. When celebrities or influencers are revealed to have a racist past, people continue to defend them saying, they were young, or it was a long time ago. No matter how young a person is when they do or say something racist, that doesn’t stop the effects of that racism.
When I was in primary school, a group of girls surrounded me and yelled racist taunts. The fact that they were 12 didn’t stop me from running home crying, it didn’t stop me from feeling too scared to go to the playground alone again for a year, it didn’t stop me from realising for the first time that people would attack me simply for being black.
Featured image courtesy of Alisdare Hickson via Flickr. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.
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