
The Pilot Edition
The Pilot Edition
The Pilot Edition
The Pilot Edition
Cover photo by Alicia Barrett
In the Summer of 2019, I submitted my dissertation on the Black Power Movement in America. I chose this topic initially to discover the incredible music of the time but then became fascinated in demystifying the Black Panther party. After seeing the exhibition, ‘Soul of a Nation, Art in the Age of Black Power’, I was entranced by the artwork of the time.
My dissertation examined how the values of ‘Unity, Assertion and Black is Beautiful’ were dominant themes in politics, art and music during the late 1960s and early 1970s USA. Police brutality and protest were constant issues that engulfed black communities and whilst music and art helped uplift these communities, the issues remained.
Fifty years later, racial violence is ongoing.
Protest in Pictures
By Alicia Barrett
The often awkward, dismissed and divisive conversation of race has been reopened.
In May 2020, three cases of racial violence ignited a new conversation about racism.
Firstly, video footage circulated online of Ahmaud Arbery who, two months previously, was chased and gunned down by two white locals whilst jogging in his hometown of Atlanta. The killers claimed they were conducting a citizen’s arrest. Then, Breonna Taylor. She came to the media’s attention after the police wrongfully entered her house in Louisville, without a warrant, and fired twenty shots. Eight bullets struck and killed Breonna. The third case was that of George Floyd. On 25 May, Floyd was violently pinned down by a police officer’s knee on his neck for eight minutes as he pleaded “I can’t breathe” numerous times until he became non-responsive. Around an hour later he was pronounced dead in hospital. This incident sparked protests in Minnesota, rapidly spreading across America and then worldwide. The often awkward, dismissed and divisive conversation of race has been reopened with the world taking part as the video footage of Floyd’s death prompted millions of people to ask the question, “why?”.
Photo by LOGAN WEAVER
Today, Black Britons are subjected to both emphatic and concealed oppression.
The problem of race is not just restricted within the 50 states of the USA. It is a global issue that has been prevalent for hundreds of years that took eight minutes of filmed horror, in one American city, to set the world alight. It is an issue that many governments fail to acknowledge, let alone address.
So, what about the UK? I’ve often heard many statements such as, “we are not as bad as America”, “Racism is a lot better than what it used to be”, and my personal favourite: “Racism in the 21st century…?”. Irrespective of these statements, yes; of course racism exists in the UK.
Allow me to provide some context. This thing called ‘colonialism’ happened and for hundreds of years ‘Great’ Britain essentially stole land, resources and people (to put it pleasantly), while subjecting these people to British rule. During this time many countries in Africa, The Caribbean, and parts of South Asia and the Pacific were denied independence. Despite the dismantling of the British Empire 70 years ago, we are still living in a continuation of the racist ideology that enabled this to happen. Many British subjects from the colonies came to the ‘Motherland’ (Britain) in the 1950s to restore the scarce workforce after the war while being guaranteed citizenship. It is important to understand that these people, rightly, held a British passport, were educated under a British curriculum and saw Britain as their home. Yet, they were met with severe racism as they merged into British society, learning fast that the motherland wasn’t as Jane Austin wrote of. And now, two generations later, as integral members of British society, this government is still finding ways to erase our presence: just look to the Windrush scandal. Discrimination does not stop here. Today, Black Britons are subjected to both emphatic and concealed oppression.
Photo by Alicia Barrett
Discrimination occurs in all areas of British society. In crime and justice, for example, Black people are eight times more likely to be stopped and searched as of 2018/19. Over 30 years ago, under Thatcher’s Britain, race riots spread across the country in Brixton, (London), Toxteth, (Liverpool), and Hansworth (Birmingham). These were due in great part to tensions between black communities and the police inflating over targeted Stop and Search tactics.
Nonetheless, a report into the riots concluded that ‘“Institutional racism” did not exist. Flash forward to the present day and despite the report’s conclusion, consider these few examples (there are many more) that contradict the notion that the UK is anything other than institutionally racist:
Photo by Rachael Henning
In employment, 65 percent of all BAME participants reported racial harassment in the workplace.
In healthcare, BAME groups are more likely to have ill health and experience ill health earlier than white Britons. Many health variations are linked to poverty and wider social inequalities.
Most recently, 94 percent of Doctors who have died from Covid-19 are from BAME backgrounds, yet the report into why the disease is affecting the BAME population has been stalled.
In housing, BAME households wait longer for social housing and are often offered poorer quality houses and flats. The injustices that surround Grenfell tower are a testament to this statement: as of 2020, three years from the horrific event, the survivors have not been rehoused.
In education, Black boys are three times more likely to be permanently excluded from school and in higher education Black students are less likely to be accepted into Russell Group Universities. In 2016, almost 70 percent of professors in Britain were white males. In addition, Black history and the British empire aren not part of the national curriculum.
Furthermore, consider the everyday micro-aggressions that black people suffer; “where are you really from?”, “I don’t date black women”, “you’re so articulate”, “you’re very aggressive.” These are but a few examples of the covert racial discourse that is viewed as socially acceptable. I’m just scraping the surface here. What about the overtly racial language that is all too often chanted in places and events like football games?
Finally, the classic phrase – “go back to where you came from”. Funnily enough, as I’ve got older this has taken another meaning. I would love nothing more than to retreat to Jamaica via Africa or Ireland. Even more so since 2016, the year Britain campaigned to leave the EU, where the unforgiving racist discourse underpinned the leave campaign. As a consequence, statistics have shown how hate crime has doubled since. Therefore, I beg another to tell me, “Racism doesn’t exist in the UK”. As the hashtag says, the UK is not innocent.
All of the above provides an explanation to those people who were bizarrely perplexed that protests took place up and down this ‘Great’ Island of Britain in relation to American racial violence. It is because there is a shared pain and frustration within the Black diaspora following Floyd’s death. Too often conversations of race are met with animosity and denial. We are tired of how we’re treated globally and locally. Existing isn’t enough. We need to be heard, we need to be appreciated, and a change must come.
The Protest
I attended the protest in Sheffield on the 6 June 2020 when hundreds of people gathered to the Black Lives Matter event to stand against police brutality and systematic racism in UK and US’. This my story from that day in words and pictures.
The Protest
Sheffield UK
06.06.20
I was captivated by the amount of people that attended the protest. I’ve lived in Sheffield for four years and the majority of that time in the city centre, I’ve never seen as many as ten black people at one time. This has often been on my mind, and if I wasn’t from the neighbouring town I would have be disillusioned at the absence of the black community in this city. I mentioned this to someone at the protest and he agreed, ‘There is nothing here for us, most places have closed down.’ This tells a larger story about the changing face of City Centres (as well as community centres that are being closed down) as gentrification, a predominantly white affect, takes hold. He mentioned the only place still going is Sheffield and Districts African and Caribbean Community Association, known as SADACCA, located on edge of the town centre. SADACCA provides events that include; dominos night for the elders, a Library and music studio as well as a day care centre for the elderly. The place is rich in history and community and for years they have battled for funding but nevertheless the centre still provides a place and for the community. I wonder how long it can continue?
People
This is John, he runs the Basil Griffith library, at SADACCA. I went to the library last summer and was amazed at the books all of which are written by Black authors. I noticed one book that I had as a child that brought back great memories. Representation in all aspects of life is so important from books, TV, film, and even seeing people that look like you walking down the street. These people rocking their natural hair with clothing expressing their proud heritage. For myself living in an all-white town I have always made to feel ‘other’ and such sights have always struck me with awe: helping me undertake a path self-discovery. The library not only lend books to the community, but holds readings, book clubs, and is looking into holding a Saturday school. John is a volunteer and does so much for the library as well as being a maths teacher. His community efforts do not go unnoticed, so many people appreciate him and all he does. It makes you wonder how we choose the statues that are erected.
This is my cousin Paige. Paige is perhaps one of my favourite people ever, along with her sister and mine we’ve all grown up together. She’s incredible at everything she does and a massive inspiration to my sister and me, whilst never ever failing to make me laugh. A lot of racism in this country is so undercover and subtle you question whether it is racially motivated, it makes you feel a certain way but you can’t quite describe it and why it is happening. So naturally, you blame yourself. My cousin is often my guide: being slightly older she understands the subtle mirocaggressions and importantly helps me realise it isn’t me, but society.
Paige holds a sign saying Justice for Belly Mujinga. Mujinga, a ticket officer in London, was assaulted by a man who spat on her claiming to have Covid-19. She died from the virus a couple of weeks later. The British Transport Police concluded last week that Mujinga’s death was not linked to the incident and the case was closed. Yet, the protests have seen nation-wide call of Justice for Belly. It asks the question why do Black lives only matter when political and corporate reputations are challenged’.
Pandemic behaviour. Masked Words
Messages
I noticed this sign from way off, a nod to Spike Lee’s film – even using the films’ font. The film depicts a hot day in 1980s Brooklyn with racial tensions causing similar heat. One of Spike Lee’s most significant films, its message and relevance transcend the 1980s and have a scarily poignant relevance to the present protests. As the man with the sign knows.
The Black Lives Matter movement is not a new movement.
Its inception began in 2013 with the acquittal of Treyvon Martin’s murder. In 2014 Eric Gardener’s last words after he was suffocated by police were, “I can’t breathe”: the exact words of Floyd six years later. This photo shows how this movement is bigger than a global trend, but cyclical, systemic, and institutional oppression. There is hope that the media attention will enable people to see and understand this oppression and make a difference. Nevertheless, there are also sentiments, as this poster displays, that once the media attention has decreased the support for the cause will also.
Power Salute
I’m more than ready to fight for our rights, are you?
I concluded my dissertation with the sentence: “African Americans are now aware of their power and beauty, and celebrate who they are and where they’ve come from. Whilst still asking, ‘where do we go from here?’”.
I chose that ending because I spent months listening to Solange’s ‘Where Do We Go’ (from here) from her album ‘A Seat at The Table’. That song and question were in my conscious and subconscious for the majority of my time at University. During most modules on race I’d ponder what had changed and what had not, with the fascination of my own learning being met with the pain of our stagnation and cyclical oppression since liberation.
But stagnation is not inevitable. It is in each of our hands to make this the time when things really change rather than just a flashpoint or a footnote in history books. How? There are many ways to support this movement: stay informed, sign petitions, donate to charities, amplify Black voices, support Black owned businesses, speak up when hearing a racist comment, and acknowledge certain privileges.
So, where do we go from here? I believe education is paramount to see large scale change. Accurate historical education not only gives an understanding of the past but also assists conceptualising the present and understanding how societies are the shaped way they are.
If history is taught by an encompassing and all-inclusive lens, this could have a phenomenal impact on how people view themselves. Learning one’s personal history can root one’s identity and belonging and significantly impact how we view society. However, this is a generational change and it will not happen overnight – yet understanding is the first step in dismantling the current system.
This movement isn’t just about George Floyd; it isn’t just about police brutality. It’s about ending the oppression that the Black community are forced to endure. This oppression is upheld by systemic, institutional and societal racism that meant George Floyd was able to be kneeled upon, that Grenfell Tower burnt so ferociously (despite complaints over the cladding for years), and where this country was able to wrongly deport British citizens back to Jamaica despite holding British passports.
My bandolier is armed through education and awareness of what’s going on. I’m more than ready to fight for our rights, are you?
Photo by David Francis
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