We are wrong, in the UK, if we allow ourselves to think that what we are seeing unfold in the United States is solely an American problem with roots in American history. We have racism built into the fabric of our society in the UK, too, albeit with some slightly different emphases. I don't have to think very hard or move from my desk or even do any research to come up with stories that show this to be true.
I've nursed alongside black nurses and heard the demeaning comments, jokes, 'compliments' ('she's very kind for one of them'). I've watched the government refuse the right to remain to black people who have served, by invitation, in industries and sectors that would not have survived without them, living their whole lives in Britain. I've read books and watched TV programmes that show the extent to which slavery of black people created the wealth on which much of the British industrial revolution was based. I've seen how people assume the black person in the group is the student (not the teacher), the offender (not the lawyer), the committee member (not the chair). I've seen a group of students demolish or ignore the contribution of the black people in the group because they don't see it as relevant to their experience. I've been laughed at by students for putting books written by black theologians on an essay booklist. I've sat tight lipped but silent when friends and family have made derogatory remarks and jokes about people of other ethnic origins. I've seen mixed race friends denied the freedom to celebrate part of their heritage, 'we think of you as white'. I've done and said things that have demeaned black people without thinking and found it difficult to listen to the rebuke; and so I ask how often have I got away without rebuke because my black friend was too gracious or too weary or too angry?
I know very little - and I want to understand more. My own ethnicity is White Welsh British. I look white but I speak a minority language and belong to a people who are regularly the butt of stereotypes and jokes. 'Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief'. The drip-drip frustration of constantly hearing your language and culture belittled damages your pride in yourself and your heritage and puts you on the back foot. Do I defend, challenge or let it go? I cannot imagine living with that 'on-the-back-foot' experience repeated over and over in almost every aspect of your life - your appearance, your access to opportunity, your freedom of movement and speech, your education, the job market, only having the 'right' to exist at the cost of other people's supposed 'right' to make you the focus of a joke or a comment. The less space you are given the more energy it takes to stand, to be, to refuse to shrink, to judge every situation with just the right balance of challenge and grace. I have had a glimpse of how exhausting that might be. And I feel a tiny glimmer of the cumulative pain.
The events of this week in the USA are indescribably disturbing. As a white person I feel inhibited to contribute and I invite correction and comment for anything I have said that misrepresents or distorts. But I reflect maybe there are a few ways I, as a white person, can work for change.
- Always listen to the experience of black people more than speak of my reaction.
- Be honest about my reaction to myself and, where invited, to my black friends.
- Never let a demeaning or racially offensive comment go, never join in a joke or let one pass.
- Make it a priority to learn about and from other cultural perceptions, especially those that are very unfamiliar.
- Immerse myself in black history and draw attention to black perspectives that contradict or amplify the dominant white story.
- Explore variety in other cultures and avoid joining in anything that stereotypes a race or nationality.
In my own discipline of theology, I'm currently reading Nine African Women Theologians You Should Know About by Stephanie Lowery (with thanks to my friend Revd Ade Lawal for recommending it.) Donald Trump's actions this week have shown how Christianity can be highjacked and used in quite dreadful ways and this has been a shocking reminder of how theology has been used to oppress black people. It is ever more pressing that every theological institution takes seriously and teaches black perspectives in theology.
I'm also reading Black and British: A Forgotten History by David Olusoga. My parents worked in Ghana and I know that I have inherited a one-sided version of the history of Britain's relationship to the many countries in which today's black British communities have roots. I've been re-educated powerfully by Olusoga's work on the influence of slavery on Liverpool. I've been shocked to discover slavery's foundational impact on the whole British economy through the extent to which wealth was created for white people (but not black) by compensation when slaves were 'freed'. See here for Olusoga's introduction to black British history, 'the history we are not taught in schools.'
Racist behaviour does not spring only from contemporary attitudes but from deep-seated inequalities, exploitations and oppressions that are not acknowledged in popular versions of history or theology. That is as true in the UK today as it is in the USA and George Floyd's death should disturb us in Britain a very great deal.
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