Hi all. Long time no speak. Or I suppose “long time no write” is probably more accurate. It’s been a little while since my last post. I hope you’ve all been keeping well. Today I’m going to talk about racism. Now, this is something that I’ve written about before, whether it was my thoughts on taking racist comments at face value, or the N-word, or blackface, or even whether we’ll ever see a black James Bond. But today’s blog is a bit different. Whereas the other topics I’ve explored have focused on quite overt forms of racism, today I’ll be looking at more subtle racism. The type of racism that has been dubbed ‘micro aggressions’. The difficulty with these is that the words often aren’t racist in and of themselves. But the context in which they’re used can be hurtful and tiring to deal with. I’m going to attempt to explain why. Let’s begin.
A couple of weeks ago (perhaps many, many weeks ago, depending on how long it takes me to write this), there was controversy at Buckingham Palace when a domestic abuse campaigner attended a royal reception. Her name is Ngozi Fulani and a full account of what transpired can be found here.
In short, a member of Buckingham Palace staff asked Fulani – a black woman – where she was from. Upon replying that she was from Britain, Fulani was then asked where her people were from.
There were a lot of strong reactions to this incident, with many calling out the racial undertones to this line of questioning. The member of staff has since resigned.
There were two other types of reaction in my opinion. One, where people were making bad-faith arguments, pretending that they had no idea what the issue was. Saying things like, “What, so you can’t even ask where anyone comes from anymore?”. Obviously that isn’t the case. And then the final reaction was from people who perhaps genuinely didn’t understand what the issue was. For those people, I’ll try to explain.
I won’t attempt to speak for all people of colour (POC), as that’s not my place. But I’ll explain from my own personal experience. As a POC living in a country that is majority white, there are certain times when I feel out of place. For example, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve walked into a pub in Essex or the East End of London, and literally every other person in there is white. And look, I have no problem with that. It’s not something I necessarily even want to change (though I wouldn’t be against more diversity either).
For whatever reason, these situations can set me on edge. 95% of the time, nothing happens. The other 5%, sometimes there are looks, other times some mutterings, but very rarely anything direct or actually threatening.
Yet I can’t help but feeling like the stranger who walks into the saloon in a western; the music stops and everyone stares at me slack-jawed. In a nutshell, I feel like the odd man out.
I’ll tell you another quick story. When I was about 13 or 14, my friends at the time (most of whom I’m still good friends with) and I used to occasionally do sleepovers around each others houses. I don’t know if this is a universal thing, but essentially, we would stay up late, eating junk food and watching films. During one occasion round mine, a food fight broke out, though this had to be abandoned after someone took a breadstick to the eye. Good times. But I digress.
My friends at one particular sleepover were all white, and the film of choice was Blazing Saddles. It is a Mel Brooks film starring Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder, and it’s hilarious; it has to be up there as one of the greatest comedies of all time. One notable thing about this film, however, is the regular use of the N-word. A quick Google search reveals that it is said 38 times, which is impressive for a film that is shorter than 90 minutes.
I didn’t have a problem with the use of the N-word at the time (I still don’t; I think the context it was used in was acceptable). However, every single time the word was uttered, everyone in the room looked around at me. I think they were trying to gauge my reaction, or were perhaps looking for some sort of permission to laugh.
I don’t blame them for this. We were just kids, and it is a situation many adults would likely struggle to navigate. It certainly did make for uncomfortable viewing though.
All of this is my longwinded way of saying that I’ve often felt like I’m different. On the inside, I felt just like everyone else, but on the outside, I looked different, so I was treated differently. Not necessarily worse, but different. And that really sucks as a teenager because all you want to do is fit in.
So when someone comes up to me and asks me where I’m from, I know they’re only asking me that because of the colour of my skin. And it just reinforces the fact that I’ll always be seen as different, or as not belonging, at least to some people.
The first time it happened to me, I was genuinely confused as to why I was being asked, so I replied, “Chadwell Heath”, the town I grew up in. Then came the now-infamous follow up question, “No, where are you really from?”. Again, I was confused, not knowing what they were getting at. Seeing the confused look on my face, they pivoted and asked the crucial question, “Where are your parents from?”.
The reason that question was crucial is because that was the moment I realised why they were asking me where I was from: my race. I’ve been questioned about where I’m from dozens of times since that initial incident, and it riles me every time. But I’ve found a petty way of coping with it. Despite knowing exactly what they’re asking and knowing exactly the answer they want, I make it as excruciatingly awkward for them as I can, to perhaps teach them a lesson. The exchange usually goes a little something like this:
Them: Where are you from?
Me: Basildon (the town I now live in).
Them: No, where are you really from?
Me: Oh, sorry, I was born in Barking.
Them: Ok, where are your parents from?
Me: My mum’s from Stratford.
Them: And what about your dad?!
Me: My dad’s from Jamaica.
Them: THANK YOU!
If they think it’s exhausting for them, they should try having that same conversation over and over again!
So where does that leave us? All the people who don’t mean any offence and who are just curious about where people hail from, what can you do going forward? Well, you could try minding your own business. But from experience, that’s not going to happen. So instead, the next time you go to ask someone where they’re from, stop and ask yourself the following questions:
1) Would you ask a white person (without an obviously foreign accent) the same question?
2) If not, why not? What is it that is different about the person you’re about to ask?
If you can answer these questions honestly, you’ll have a good chance of avoiding the types of awkward exchanges highlighted above. If you really must ask, please just accept the first answer they give you. Interrogating someone over their lineage really isn’t the close bonding moment you think it is.
Just remember, where we come from can shape us, but it isn’t as important as who we are. Do you get where I’m coming from?
Thanks as always for reading. I hope you all have a happy Christmas/holidays and a fantastic new year. I’ll be back in 2023. Until then, take care.
Rob Recommends
Disenchanted – Film – 7/10
It’s always an interesting one when there is such a big gap between an original film and its sequel. Particularly when there isn’t really any clamour for a follow-up. I was quite shocked when I heard Disney were releasing this.
I think the original, Enchanted, is great. This one is probably just good. The story is fine, the songs are fine, the choreography is very good. Amy Adams, as always, is great because she’s one of the best actresses in Hollywood. But honestly, you can skip this and not be missing much. Not essential viewing.
FIFA Uncovered – Documentary – 8/10
This Netflix documentary, looking into corruption at the global football organisation, was particularly interesting to watch alongside the World Cup in Qatar.
If you’ve watched other documentaries on Netflix, it will come as no surprise that this is very well-made and informative. Even for a football fan such as myself, it was an eye-opening experience; I didn’t know half of the things revealed. Worth a watch if you’re into football and/or corruption being, well, uncovered.
In the Heights – Film – 9/10
The film adaption of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Broadway smash hit, In the Heights is just so much fun. Full of colour and charm, this is a feelgood movie that you won’t want to miss.
As we can now expect from Miranda, the songs are excellent, with clever and imaginative lyrics. The choreography is some of the best I’ve seen in a long time. The biggest compliment I can give it is that it’s made me really want to see this live on stage.
The Rings of Power – TV – 9/10
I avoided watching this highly anticipated Lord of the Rings adaption for a while, as I didn’t want it to sully the high esteem that I hold LotR in. Not unlike a dwarf, I eventually caved.
I’m so glad I did because I love this show. It really feels like LotR. Obviously, there are dwarfs, elves, orcs, and halflings. But more than that, it is just quintessentially of the same universe. It’s hard to explain.
I can imagine that this might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Even amongst LotR fans, opinion seems to be divided. But if season one was my breakfast, season two is my second breakfast. In other words, I can’t wait for it!
A Rob Blog 