White Privilege/Black Lives

Some people might have seen me write about white privilege on FaceBook yesterday and I make no apologies for repeating, and expanding, my message on my blog today. I also make no apologies for having this post as plain text without any of my usual nature photographs. This message is too important for distractions.

All white people – of whatever socio-economic group – have white privilege – and most simply do not get it. I am a white person and, despite having many friends of Black, Asian and minority ethnicities, it took me years to fully understand what white privilege was and why Black Lives Matter.

Until all white people can all hold up our hands and admit that we are treated differently simply because of the paleness of our skin we will never alter the fundamental flaws in our institutionalised racist society. This is everyone’s responsibility. And before anyone says it doesn’t happen here – my husband, who is black, has been refused service in pubs all over the world – including in east London, one of the most multicultural cities in the world! Yet, when I go to the bar, I get served immediately. When he waits at a cash point, people move away rather than withdraw cash in front of him; when he chased a thief and called the police, the white police officer accused him of being an accomplice; when we had an allotment, people would ` joke’ that he was growing cannabis; when he left an all white party to get something out of the car, he was asked if he was going out `for a sneaky spliff’. He has never smoked, drunk alcohol or done drugs in his life but the black stereotype persists. On a plane full of 300+ white people, guess who was the only one to be pulled over by Customs? I could go on but you get the drift.

Racism is everywhere. People cross the road when my husband is coming towards them and, when we started going out, my neighbours would speak to me – except when I was with him, then they would cross over. (Some still do!) This white superiority is a global pandemic. As white people we have to look deep into our souls and address the subtle traits that we might try to deny to ourselves but are screaming out to people of colour. The preconceived judgements, the expression on our face, the tone in our voice. Racism seeps out of every pore. It is apparent in people’s faces.

It’s not good enough to say, `Well, it’s people of that generation…’ or `It’s how I was brought up…’, or, probably, the most insidious of all, `They can’t take a joke.’

I’ll address the last point first – a joke is supposed to be funny; if it offends anyone, it’s bullying. And that goes for homophobic jokes, sexist jokes, jokes about people’s appearance – whether it’s skin colour, ears, hair, mouth, teeth, nose or any other feature – and those about people with disabilities. It is offensive, ignorant and downright cruel! One snide joke can bury itself in a person’s psyche and affect them for decades. It is thinly disguised psychological and emotional abuse wrapped up as `a bit of fun.’ Except it isn’t!

And, secondly, using your upbringing is a pathetic, lazy and unacceptable excuse for being unwilling to change. I was brought up in the 60s and my father was a racist: he supported Enoch Powell, grumbled that the British athletic team wasn’t British any more because the athletes were mainly black, told me if I ever had a black boyfriend neither he nor I would be welcome in his house. (Guess what Dad, I married a black man!) Yet, even as a 13 year old, I challenged him and his views. He worked in a factory with only 1 black person – a bus driver whom he always referred to as Tom. When I went into work with him one day I said, `Good morning, Tom.’ My father was furious with me because, of course, Tom wasn’t his name: it was a reference to Uncle Tom. No one actually knew Tom’s real name. How appalling is that? And it smacks of the plantations when enslaved black people were renamed by their white owners. As a teenager I couldn’t understand racism and I still can’t.

All white people: British, American, European, Antipodean – and I include myself – need to educate ourselves as to why black lives matter. Yes, all lives matter, but all too often, in the eyes of the authorities and society at large, black lives don’t seem to matter as much as white lives. And they do! BLACK LIVES MATTER!

I will continue to challenge all forms of prejudice until I die. I’m not going to apologise for going on too long about this because it’s impossible to go on TOO long. The only thing going on too long is the length of time that society has perpetuated this.

If anyone’s finding this uncomfortable to read – that’s a good sign: it means you recognise something in yourself. And recognising something is the first step to changing it. Let’s hope we’re all willing to!