People may wonder why I haven't chosen a song by a black artist, a rallying freedom cry by the oppressed. Truth is music, good music, should make you feel something. I had never heard the original of this song, but this cover version, by a friend of mine, I heard for the first time a few days before attending the protest. It made me cry. The words reminded me so much of my youth, trying to be invisible, not stick out, blend into the background and try to fit in. Pretty impossible in a town that at best can be described as ignorant, at worst, racist. The plight of many black and brown people is blighted by either sticking out like a sore thumb and attracting the haters or being invisible. Health, poverty and unjust treatment within the justice system has been largely ignored by the masses, we cast no shadow, until the very public murder of George Floyd caught global attention and gave momentum to the Black Lives Matter movement.
A little background - The Black Lives Matter movement first began in July 2016
following the killings of AltonSterling and Philando Castile by police in the
US. On the 25th May,
George Floyd, a 46 year old father and grandfather, was killed by police
officers in Minneapolis, MN. His death was captured on camera as police
officer Derek Chauvin pinned down the handcuffed George with a knee on his neck
for 8 minutes and 46 seconds while three other officers watched. George's
pleas of “I
can’t breathe” were ignored by all
four officers and Officer Chauvin’s knee remained in place for 2 minutes and 53
seconds after George became non-responsive. No attempt to administer
first aid was made. This sparked protests, echoed around the globe, about police
brutality towards people of colour. The large attendance of these
protests is particularly pertinent due to the global pandemic posing greater
risks to black, Asian and ethic minority communities. Many fear the consequences of failing to act against systemic racism will be far deadlier than the virus. A poignant
message considering George Floyd had contracted COVID-19 in April and made a
full recovery by the time of his death.
The decision to attend my local Black Lives Matter protest was not an easy one. First and foremost thought in my mind is that we are in the middle of a pandemic here. The information at the time indicated that people from black, Asian and other ethnic communities were more at risk of both catching and dying from Covid-19 than white people. Since the PTSD, the hearing loss and the tinnitus, I've developed something of a specific health anxiety and the pandemic has only served to heighten this. Prior to lockdown, I had avoided social gatherings other than those impossible to due to working in youth centres, as the noise was too great and painful. I'd only visited a restaurant once since losing my hearing and now I was thinking about attending a protest? What impact would that have on my tinnitus and hyperacusis? Was I ready to go back out into the world after nearly a year of shutting myself away from anything other than work? All of this paled into the background when I thought about the consequences of not going.
I've spent all my life trying to shy away from my ethnic culture and background. The colour of my skin had brought me nothing but pain, and as long as I didn't rock the boat everything would be ok. I'd left it to others to fight my cause, and the cause of others because I was too scared to speak up, stand out and fight for change. I have two young nephews, and the thought of them having to suffer just a small fraction of the injustice and racist bullshit that I and others have had to endure brings me to tears. Their mother, my sister, put it best:
"There is no middle ground to racism...if you stand by and watch it's as bad as taking part.
Like with crime or child abuse, to do nothing is to allow it to continue."
It is for these reasons, future generations and to finally put to bed my own self-loathing that I decided to attend the Black Lives Matter protest in Sheffield, and I'm so glad I did. The event was organised by young people in Sheffield and had a great energy to it. For the first time in England, the country in which I was born, I finally felt accepted and that I belonged. The undercurrent of casual and systemic racism is a poison to our country. This is not about tolerance, half-measures or token gestures. This is about change, real change that integrates the history, both good and bad, of black people in the UK. This is about tackling the racism by omission in our education system, the woeful health inequalities, social deprivation and lack of opportunities for social mobility, an unfair criminal justice system that targets and disproportionately impacts black communities. This is about equality.
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