We are all guaranteed three things in life; we’re born, we grow, we die. No matter who you are or what clout you may carry, we all have these things in common; but it’s the middle part that separates and/or defines us.
If you’re fortunate enough, you’ll forge great friendships within that growth section, that will hopefully continue on through to the twilight years. Our journeys can come with a number of twists and turns, highs and lows – the Black woman’s road even more so – and as women in general there is a hella lot we go through, especially when we reach a certain point along the path.
My guests this week like to describe that specific point as being ‘Middle-Young’ – which I personally couldn’t love any more! The Shelf Renaissance is a podcast that was created by two Slough Queens and firm friends Lydia Shekiluwa and Patsy Christian, after realising there was a gap in the market to cater for the category of Black women who are at that ‘Life-Beginning-But-Certain-Aspects-Ending’ phase!
They are accompanied by fellow co-hosts and Slough Queens, Margaret Shekiluwa and Hellen Lawuo-Meena, and collectively call themselves a tribe. They are a sisterhood addressing different aspects we associate with being adults, and whilst forever keeping it real, each topic is handled with a level of research, compassion, insight, and the perfect balance of infectious humour. Their main objective being to discuss a varying range of subjects and situations, bolstered by their lived experiences and seen through the eyes of the wise, incorporating three of their favourite things; catching jokes, drinking and spending time with the sisters!
Each episode is called a Campfire; bringing about the heat, coziness and warmth you’d feel if you were around a real one. There is a natural flow between all that, even if you personally don’t know who these ladies are, you can tell is genuine and inviting, giving the feeling that you’re sat with your sistas putting the world to rights! What’s also great is that there is a mix of West Indian and African descent, helping to break the old taboo of our cultures not mixing or getting along.
I have had the pleasure of knowing both Lydia and Patsy from a very young age, and as we sit around the table, I can’t help but be reminded of memories we’ve shared around different tables throughout our lifetime so far.
I have known Patsy, literally for as long as I can remember as our parents were good friends and my godparents. I have many fond memories of going to Patsys family home on numerous occasions when I was younger, but due to our slight age gap, I was closer to her younger brother. Over the years, the age gap that seemed so wide when I was small dissipated with the realities of life and adulthood.
Their home was always welcoming, filled and flowing with music, alcohol and good vibes – and me amazed at how, 1) their back garden was on the first floor, and 2) how many different varieties of Club biscuits Goddy Ursil always had on offer! Our parents had a truly lifelong friendship, and when my mum sadly passed away last year a big, totally unplanned, comfort to me was that she was buried right opposite her best friend.
Lydia and Margaret I have known since first school days, with our most prominent memories made from the early 90’s. The common room banter at Langley College and camaraderie which was to follow us through the years was one of a kind, with firm friendships being cemented. I couldn’t regale on our past without the association of bussin’ a tune or ten! Meeting up at the college disco with DJ Aki spinning the latest rhymes and trying not to choke on the heady mix of peoples body spray and body funk!
Black music had a number of different genres that were on fire in the 90’s, all of which we enjoyed – but you’d definitely have to crown them Hip Hop Queens! It was the era of finger waves, high top fades and many memories being made; the Shekiluwa sisters being synonymous with unity, as you very rarely saw one without the other.
The times may well have changed but the unity and vibes remain, only now they are sharing the isms and schisms that come with being middle-young!
Ok I admit it, I’m a tad biased, but I truly believe that these ladies, with their relatability and refreshingly real podcasts, offer up a bit of knowledge with a dash of melanin magic and a sprinkling of light relief – which considering the current climate is more than welcome! One of their punchlines is Stay Curious, and I encourage you all to do just that and check them out! Pour a brew, pull up a pew and listen to what’s on offer – especially as the new season of Campfires have just been lit!
Click below for all of The Shelf Renaissance media links.
Supported by HOME Slough using public funding by the National Lottery through Arts Council England
If you order up a cuppa Coach Tee be prepared to get more than your money’s worth! She’ll come at you hot and in full force, with a kick to your nervous system to challenge any caffeine hit you can find.
I have known Tanya Brooks-Carty, aka Coach Tee, for a number of years so can personally speak on the ball of energy that is she! In fact, the day of our interview she cycled her way to meet me, her love of exercise leaving her pumped up and good to glow, whilst I eyed up Greggs wondering if I should pop over and grab a vegan sausage roll and see whether they’ve got London Cheesecakes back in stock yet.
There’s definitely something about her energy that cannot be denied, and she has the wild and wonderful personality to match, (with the hair too, as long as she can keep it in place!)
Tanya is a Slough born and bred entrepreneur who has had interactions with the Black Slough community from a very young age, in part due to her being the daughter of one of Sloughs most prominent features within the community, the formidable Christina Brooks-Abraham.
With the seed firmly planted, it nourished and grew, and at the age of 25 Tanya decided to branch off from Motivation – the family community group, and alongside a group of young ladies consisting of her sisters and friends, R.A.W – Real Ass Women, was born!
RAW started as a dance squad, performing a variety of dance styles and routines to a selection of Black music and participating in many performances, tours and video shoots.
Eventually Tanya ventured out on her own, starting with her dance/fitness classes, (and trust me when I say she will put you through your paces and have you wukkin’ up a sweat!), which has snowballed into a number of businesses and enterprises including her Pick Me Up Sticks – a collection of sticks emblazoned with positive words and affirmations to help pick you up when you need a lift or some guidance. They come in a range of different themes and are available for the young, old and in between to enjoy.
Her journey has productively continued on, with her becoming a life coach and mentor offering RAWtreats, brunches, seminars, workbooks, Sisterhood, networking events and Mindset to name a few! On top of all of that she has her exercise classes and a range of fitness products and online launches. Phew!
It’s totally unsurprising to me that she would at some point end up in the field that she is currently in. I can testify that her words work, as she was the instigator of me writing blogs and she seems to have an uncanny ability to pick up on things you may well dismiss. Not everything will be to your taste or you may find yourself wondering if certain aspects are for you, as I admit to wondering myself, but she has a saying of take what you need to proceed! #SipSip
She may not be everybody’s Cuppa Tee, but she may just be the perfect blend for you – and you don’t know until you try!
This mother of 2 has most definitely packed in a lot during her lifetime so far and I have no doubt there is a lot more to come! Ultimately she would love to build up our community so that her sons and the rest of the communities children can thrive and flourish in a creative and safe environment.
We’ll be watching this space Coach Tee!🖤
If you would like to get in contact with Tanya or purchase any of her products you can find her on:
Instagram and Facebook: Tanya Brooks Carty
Clubhouse: Shake The Room
Spotify: #CuppaTee
www.rawcoachtee.co.uk
www.pickmeupsticks.co.uk
Since our interview Tanya has become a lecturer for Windsor Forest Colleges. If you’re interested in becoming a life coach or counsellor click on the link! https://www.instagram.com/p/CXN-CF3Ih-U/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet
Supported by HOME Slough using public funding by The National Lottery through Arts Council England
Lately I have purposely tried to keep myself away from certain subjects that cause my blood to boil and pressure to rise. My emotions are already naturally high and hormones raging at the best of times, so for the sake of my sanity and stress levels I have tried to stay far away from any triggers. Tried…
If you live in England you would more than likely have had to be living under a rock to not hear some kind of talk about the Euros over the past month. Now, I don’t have anything against football per se, but what I seriously struggle with is the fuckeries that come with it. It’s not like it’s anything new, but you know when you’ve had more than you can bear to stomach? Well I’ve fully reached my limit.
I admit to having a little chuckle and head shake to myself when I’d heard folk chatting before last nights result on how unified the Euros were making Grate Britain. I distinctly remember thinking yeh, they’ll be unified right up until the time one of them puts a foot wrong; then we’ll see what unity means – and sure enough, here “we” are!
It may well be called the beautiful game, but with beauty comes the beast, and unfortunately it’s in the shape of the many supporters that chose to conduct themselves in that abhorrently racist, sickening, disgusting and utterly disrespectful manner.
People had asked me if I’d be watching and I told them straight, No. I really wasn’t interested and avoided all matches until last night, which I would have avoided too, but the Mr came up and put it on just in time for me to see the last remaining minutes of the main match and how events unfolded afterwards.
One thing HisStory has shown us, and that they keep making abundantly clear, is that as long as you’re of benefit to them then it’s all good. You’ll be tolerated and even applauded as one of “us”. But once you’ve served your purpose (Windrush), or make a mistake (miss a penalty), then they’ll let you know exactly where you stand. Gone is the jubilation for the team bringing them closer to victory than they have ever been in decades, to be replaced by hate, racist abuse and the same old rhetoric of fucking off back to where they came from.
I guarantee you that any Black person who watched the match, saw it go to penalties and then saw who Gareth Southgate chose to step up to the plate knew exactly how shit would go down should any of the Black players miss. Not one bit of it is surprising. The “fans” had already started their shenanigans from before they’d even entered the stadium. Mob, yob and knob mentality at the forefront and from the get go. Barging their way in and making themselves known as is true to their English form.
It may well be called the beautiful game, but with beauty comes the beast, and unfortunately it’s in the shape of the many supporters that chose to conduct themselves in that abhorrently racist, sickening, disgusting and utterly disrespectful manner. And I beg you please, miss me with the bullshit of it’s only a small minority that are the troublemakers. The ‘small minority’ really isn’t that small in the grand scheme of things. Their numbers are constantly rising, and due to the likes of the government and other establishments having a lackadaisical approach to racism, they feel no way in telling us how they truly feel.
Those youngsters played their heart out for a cuntry that would stab them in it in return. I highly applaud and congratulate them for their efforts and contribution to the game – which no matter how diehard a fan you are, you need to remember – IT’S JUST A GAME!! You win, lose or draw and life goes on – it’s really not that deep, and if it is that deep to you, you really need to get a life.
I know for sure if my son or daughter were a footballer I’d be discouraging them to play for England; regardless of whether they were born here or not. Sorry, not sorry. They don’t deserve their talent, most definitely not until real moves are made to deal with the issues they have when it comes to kicking out racism and the racist fans. I would actually love to see just how well they’d fair if it were down to the ‘true bloods’ alone and the n****s that let the team down went to play for the countries to which, as so many put it, they belong.
England may well have 3 lions on their chest, but they need to remember where lions originate from!
Maximum love and respect to Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho and Bukayo Saka. You did ‘US’ all proud. #OriginalLionKings
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives recently.
“Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. Givin’ all your love to just one man…”
Tammy Wynette ~ Stand By Your Man
Have you ever heard a song and thought, “Yessss! THAT PART!” Well personally, I believe Tammy needn’t have gone on with the rest of the song; she’d already done killed it with the one opening line. (To those of you who know the rest of the lyrics to Stand By Your Man and are thinking tea is about to be spilt, you really couldn’t be further from the bloody truth!)
Granted 2020 hit differently for a lot of people and for many reasons, but for me, it wasn’t just a hit – it was a series of knockout punches to the solar plexus that continued relentlessly. In a few short, (yet feeling extremely long) months, I had to contend with more grief, toxicity and bullshit than I had ever known or knew what to do with. I’m relatively “strong” but it was all getting a bit too much. On top of that I moved house which, thanks to covid, bought with it new challenges.
I can admit now to feeling all kinds of a way. My emotions were all over the place and as much as I tried to fix up and find the fight and positivity, it was all getting me down. I’d talk to friends and family but never really fully expressing just how shitty I felt. I was struggling but trying to put up a good front. I had been trying to keep myself occupied during lockdown by learning new skills, but found I couldn’t retain information, which in turn made me feel even worse and as thick as the shit I was feeling.
I didn’t want to do anything. Netflix, Disney+ and music were my best friends. I didn’t want to write. I didn’t want to read. I didn’t want to do fuck all but tune out and virtually escape as due to lockdown, it was physically impossible to do so. Everything was getting to me or stressing me out. I knew I needed some kind of help so thought I’d try Talking Therapies, which was helpful to some degree, but even with understanding all they were saying I just couldn’t get my emotions in check and I knew there was more to it.
As a woman of a certain age it’s inevitable that there’s a journey we go through with our bodies, and I’ve recently had more signs that it was on its way; only to be told by the professionals after enquiring that that wasn’t the case. All the while my body was hollering, “Nah bee, they’re lying to you!”
I’m not sure of what percentage of males will read this but I’d like to believe they’re man enough to handle this topic, if only to garner a little sympathy for what any females in their life could possibly be experiencing.
I can be as cool as you like one minute, the next I’m making radiators jealous with the heat emanating from my body. Added to that is the joy of night sweats – as naturally you’ve gotta share the love throughout the whole 24 hours. I’ve mentioned it once…or maybe twice…possibly a little more to certain males in my vicinity that y’all don’t realise just how good you actually have it when it comes to your bodies.
As women, from a young age ours prepare us for the prospect of temporary lodgings for a baby. And yes, bringing new life into the world is a blessing, but pregnancy offers up a whole range of different, not so pleasant experiences that accompany the magic; and regardless of whether we want to have children or not, we still have the ‘joy’ of our monthly visitor to look forward to.
Understand the word joy is dripping with sarcasm. It is in fact the polar opposite. Some women manage to breeze through theirs without a hitch, but from my very first one they’ve been a bitch! I started at 10 and I’m nearly 47 now. Decades of hell and no, they didn’t ease up after having babies as I’d heard can happen. I’ve had a few reprieves due to the contraceptive pill, but they just lull you into a false sense of security. You’re all good living your period free life, then WHAM!!, they come back at you with a vengeance even John McClane would struggle to deal with.
The reality of periods is that although they help to bring about life, they can also bring with them a whole heap of mess and pain. In correlation to the pain, it can be doubled for some if on top of the monthly beat down you’re getting, you are trying to get pregnant and sadly not succeeding. It is, after all, supposed to be the one upside of having the buggers.
I in no way feel like my youth is slipping away and I wholeheartedly embrace Aunty stature. It’s time for those bitch ass eggs to dry the hell up and leave me in peace.
I 100% feel for all of those who are in that position, and I’m aware that as much as I’m cursing periods out that they too are a blessing, and I have two beautiful daughters to show for them, BUT – I HAVE SERVED MY TIME! Things were bad enough when they were regular, but now it’s a lucky dip as to how long my cycle will be and I’m guaranteed it’ll be flowing like the Orinoco. That’s just another delight that comes with being the bearer of heavy, painful periods. You’re constantly on edge. Whispering silent prayers as you stand up that that gush that was supposed to be held back by your layers of leakproof (yeh, right) protection hasn’t soaked through to your clothes.
It’s little wonder that going out is the last thing I want to do. It’s bad enough being paranoid of leaking whilst sat at home in bed with chronic back and stomachache whilst munching on a bag of sweet and salty popcorn, getting bleary eyed over a restoration on The Repair Shop, without the added pressure of being outside somewhere and having an accident that you have to try and sort out in some manky toilet. There are way too many variables to take the risk.
If you’re as truly blessed as I am, you’ll also have the ‘joy’ of being an emotional, hormonal wreck before, during and after your cycle. The urge to wanna fuck someone up over what would possibly be seen as a minor infringement to others is overwhelmingly phenomenal. These hands could do damage if you chew wrong, so it’s best to keep myself to myself! I went back to the professionals to get checked out and they found I’m currently extremely anaemic (I can’t think why), and I’m awaiting a scan to check and see if my fibroids have grown.
Just know that to put it bluntly, my periods have fucked me sideways for way too long and I’m sooo over them. I in no way feel like my youth is slipping away and I wholeheartedly embrace Aunty stature. It’s time for those bitch ass eggs to dry the hell up and leave me in peace.
I’ve only given you the highlights. There are many more facets I could really go in-depth and tell you about, like clots, sore boobs and the period shits, but I don’t wanna spoil you too much. After doing some research and listening to some ladies who are working their way through the menopause (aka, menace – no pause), I realised that it’s more than likely the reason as to why I’m finding it so hard to function and I’m not going to beat myself up over it anymore. It is what it is.
Sometimes you have to check yourself before you wreck yourself and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Tammy was right. Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman, but I’ll be damned if I’m giving ALL my love to just one man. That’s not to say I don’t love mine and I’ll naturally stand by him, but as women we physically go through a lot in comparison to what men do – and self love is where we need to start.
Stand By Yo’ Ass!
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.
A 20/20 Vision
Hello again! I wasn’t intending on leaving it months before I wrote another blog, but the reality is I’ve kinda been in a funk. To be fair to myself, there have been a few legit reasons as to why I would be.
I won’t bore you with the details of my funky disposition right now. Let’s just say that I’m working on it! The year so far has really been a humdinger. Like, seriously, who could have predicted the madness?*
The 20/20 vision I had is nothing in comparison to the reality, but it has enabled me to see certain people’s true colours with crystal clarity. In my last Downtime blog I wrote about being tired. That’s not quite cutting it anymore. I’m fully over certain attitudes and having to break things down time and again. We’ve now reached Black History Month and it’s added more fuel to those already raging flames of hate.
It’s actually not hard to imagine that people would get so irate over trying to eradicate racism and giving us a fair chance. I guess it boils down to what you choose to see and what makes you feel un/comfortable. I’ve tried to highlight my feelings for you below. I hope you enjoy it, but most of all I hope you understand it.🖤
A little while back I wrote about being tired
But that description has long since expired
Tired no longer fits the bill
Let me try to explain if you will
To those taking issue with the words Black Lives Matter
And the “It’s all political!” nonsense and chatter
Having an issue with taking the knee
Or a powerful dance performed by Diversity
Disgust at adverts with Black families
Or in general, too many Black faces on their tv’s
Or a necklace with the initials B.L.M,
Causing outrage a little hard to comprehend,
Folk can find time to moan and complain
As if we’re all out here just playing some game
They’ll tell us we don’t deserve sympathy
Because crimes and statistics is all they can see
Allow me to give you a little clarity
If politics is all that you choose to see
There may be things you don’t like about the organisation
I hear you and understand your frustration
But the focus should be on Black Lives Matter – the movement
And how we’re constantly striving for improvement
There are way too many unnecessary failures
Too many George Floyds, Sarah Reeds and Breonna Taylor’s
Too many concerned over the placement of a statue
With negative statements to throw at you
Why should I waste my time trying to explain
When you clearly don’t want to register our pain
If you’re not interested that’s all good with me
I’m not about begging, and I’ll leave you be
I really have no time for all of those bigots
The likes of Jim Davidson and Laurence Fox
Who, granted, are entitled to their opinions and views
But don’t have a clue what’s it’s like to walk in our shoes
Every colour and creed commit crimes on the street
But if it’s a Black face they don’t miss a beat
In pointing the finger and calling us out
But if it’s a White face there’s always room for doubt
And heaven forbid we speak up or speak out
They’ll seriously question what we’re talking about
It honestly is a real travesty
That a lot of the naysayers really can’t see
When they say we should be grateful
And it’s all ok
Because we’re less racist here in the U.K
There’s a huge piece of the picture that you miss
And really and truly, it’s more than a diss
Addressing the ‘All Lives Matter’ crew
And the ‘Blue Lives Matter’ too
For the latter here’s somewhere to begin
They can take off their uniform
We can’t take off our skin
As for all lives mattering, that goes without saying
But the comparison needs to take some weighing
The past few months have given much insight
Between those who truly understand our plight
And those who’ve had enough, and are over it
And would love nothing more than for us to quit
Wondering how much longer we intend to go on
Whinging, whining and singing the same old song?
But in the midst of all of the chanting and crying
And every which way my people keep trying
Black people are dying at an alarming rate
At the hands of people fuelled by hate
Happy to deny us the right to live
All whilst sitting comfortably in their privilege
Band us together and label us BAME
With little recognition that we’re not all the same
No sympathy for Grenfell or the Windrush generation
No time for unity or the rise of one nation
We can all be different but still live as one
It’s not impossible; it can be done
I have no idea what the future will be
But I’ll try not to give up hope, that one day they’ll see
So take in the words I’ve written above
The lack of understanding, empathy and love
Now can you see why I’m way past tired?
Exhausted’s the word that is now required
But to my brothas and sistas
Don’t let it get you down
Put your head up and hold on to your crown
Whenever it seems there’s no ending in sight
As Bob Marley said, don’t give up the fight!
R.I.P Hazel Bruce and to all those who have passed away recently
*Apparently someone did. They could have given us a better heads up!😅
I put off writing about the current events happening in the world in regards to the murder of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter movement for a reason. It was because I wanted to repost the previous R.I.P’d Off blogs to show and prove that this isn’t a new phenomenon and some of us have been shouting about it for years.
Yesterday I changed my mind, and it was in part thanks to a White ‘friend’. It all started with a post on Facebook. She was up in arms and disgusted at the London mayors proposal to possibly remove the statues of figureheads around the town with connections to profiteering from slavery.
She made her feelings quite clear. It’s just disgusting, history is history and it makes her so pissed. The majority of her friends agreed with her and commented about how we (Black people) wanted to try and rewrite history or erase it. They also spoke about the holocaust and how the Jews don’t carry on and make such a fuss so what’s our problem?
It’s funny how quickly and easy it is to be dismissed and perceived as the ‘angry Black woman’ when all you’ve done is politely speak your mind.
This is what I wrote back in response:
No one is asking to forget or rewrite history. They are asking you to acknowledge that this ‘great’ country was made great off of the backs of slaves. If it’s history and we should forget about it why are you getting all up in your feelings by having them removed? Shouldn’t you be doing the same? And comparing it to the holocaust is a joke. You acknowledge the holocaust and reparations were given for their treatment. We’re told, yeah it happened and what? Here’s a reminder on the daily! Whether they’re in public or in a museum where they belong it doesn’t change what happened in the past – but you could at least acknowledge the impact they may have on us.
My ‘friend’ saw fit to bypass and ignore my response, yet continued to interact and like other posts of those who shared her sentiment. As you can see I didn’t cuss, I just tried to politely put my point across but obviously that was too much. I scrolled back on her page and saw that this was the first mention she’d made of anything that had gone on previously in regards to this subject.
No disgust at the murder of George Floyd or support or empathy for her black friends – just anger over statues that I very much doubt she even knew existed before they were highlighted in the press, but such is life! I left it at that and moved on.
So then we come to Saturday, and the patriotic counter-protesters (🙄) who were supposedly protecting these precious statues in London by getting bladdered, fighting police, fighting each other, pissing on monuments, terrorising picnickers and generally being a bunch of racist, small minded dicks.
Funnily enough she had nothing to say about them. Crickets all round. But she did see fit to post about a Black pedophile who caused tremendous hurt and damage to a little girl. She was rightly disgusted and wanted him named and shamed.
Now, I understand her disgust fully and personally I hope he rots in whatever prison he’s in, but that post was over a year old and considering the current climate we’re in, I figured there were more important issues we should be focusing on today than to rile people up over something abhorrent that had already been dealt with.
So again I responded:
You’re right, he is a totally disgusting specimen and deserves all that he gets and then some. But I’ve gotta ask why you’re sharing something over a year old and you’ve got nothing to say about the mob that went out on Saturday to “protect” the statues you care so much about? Oh, my bad, is that classed as history too now it’s Tuesday and to be forgotten? Bye Felicia!🖐🏾
I decided that I couldn’t be arsed and unfriended her. She’d already shown me all I needed to see. But I was informed she responded back by saying she has nothing to say because she’s fucking sick to the back teeth of it all, Black, White, yellow, she doesn’t care. She just wishes everyone would get on. Seriously I need to calm down and she’s all for peace.
I need to calm down. Hmmm….
If you check it, it was she who wrote the angry post about statues and agreed with all of her angry little friends. I don’t recall her telling any of them to calm down and we should all get on. Not once did I use a cuss word or angry faced emoji, yet she did and so did her angry friends.
Yet I should calm down.
Black, White, yellow – she doesn’t care, but diss a concrete statue and it’s on! She’s got time to care about that!
She then decided to private message a family member – not me, and spin those go to lines of certain white folk of growing up with Black people and having mixed race family.
Can someone please explain to me just what the fuck that’s suppose to prove?
She also added that all this bitterness is getting no one anywhere. Which bitterness would that be? Me politely calling her out or the bitterness spewed out by herself and her angry little friends over statues? #AnswersOnAPostcard
It’s funny how quickly and easy it is to be dismissed and perceived as ‘the angry Black woman’ when all you’ve done is politely speak your mind. She’s not the first one to describe me in such a way, and as I really don’t give a fuck I’m sure she won’t be the last either.
It’s all good for her to be sick to the back teeth of it, but she was over it after 3 weeks. Try a lifetime then come at me! See how sick, tired, fed up, frustrated, confused, upset, disappointed, downhearted and pissed she feels then. And that’s just a few emotions at the tip of the iceberg.
Whilst her fellow patriots were busy ‘protecting’ statues and not being a menace to society in the slightest, I was busy at a peaceful protest on the same day in a local park. It was a beautiful day with no trouble and good vibes. Everyone came together for a common cause and it was truly a sight to see. I was asked to give a speech and admit to feeling flattered that they would ask but also nervous. I’m really not a limelight girl or public speaker, but I felt the need to come out of my comfort zone and show my support.
For the ‘friend’ who chose to ignore our plight and the rest of my readers I’ll end with the speech I gave. I hope it gives a little more understanding and incite into why we feel the way we do.
In life there comes a time when you look at a certain situation and come to the conclusion that enough is enough. I’d reached my limit a good while ago, but the horrific, public murder of George Floyd became the straw that broke the camels back for a lot more of us.
His murder may have been the catalyst for these protests and current events, but it is by no means the only reason why we find ourselves taking to the streets. For centuries the tale has been the same. Depending on how far back you go, HIStory will tell you of how great a country is, but deny or try to sweep under the carpet the reality of how that greatness came to be – and racism is key!
We have been – and for a lot of people will always be seen as the dregs of society. To be used, abused and disposed of accordingly. Racism runs deep within the police force and governments, home and away, and the reality is they were not created to benefit the likes of us. Only now are we slowly beginning to see change, but even still, the level of justice that is mete out to White people is highly disproportionate to those of colour.
They will throw statistics at us to prove our plight is a myth and we literally doth protest too much, but actions will always speak louder than words or figures on a page. It’s funny how people are incensed and raging over the removal of statues, but not outraged at the brutal loss of life they represent. That in itself speaks volumes. It seems like no matter what we do, or how we do it, someone will take issue with us telling the world that our lives matter and we deserve to be treated with respect.
You don’t even have to go way back to 1775 to highlight things. For example, look at how they handled the murders of Steven Lawrence and Mark Duggan. In 2015 the last reparations to slave owners was paid out. In 2015! It’s nearly 3 years to the day that the Grenfell fire broke out, with very little progress made in the enquiry and the Windrush scandal is still ongoing. I could happily stand here all day and give you example after example but what we really need is change. The system has been proven to be broken and corrupt from the core and desperately needs to be addressed and fixed, but that is not something we can do alone.
This is not a Black and White issue, it’s a humanitarian one. There are plenty that hate us but also an equal measure that have shown love and support from the start and from the heart. I know plenty who actually get it and understand that our cry isn’t about being selfish, it’s about being treated equally, respectfully and with dignity.
They are aware that White privilege is very real and they benefit from it on a daily basis without having to try. They understand that the privilege is the ease to walk and talk freely without fear of repercussions based purely on the colour of their skin. But to those who say that they are not racist or don’t see colour it has to be said that that is not enough. For real change to be made you need to be anti racism and acknowledge that yes, we are different shades, but it doesn’t make us lesser people.
I want you to see my melanin and embrace it, not deny it exists.
I’ll never forget my first racist encounter, and it was in this very town not far from here, by a blonde haired, blue eyed boy who spat at me and called me a nigger whilst I was simply minding my own business walking down the back of the high street. I’d love to say that that was my one and only experience but it hasn’t been. To those who have been lucky enough to not experience any racism so far in their lives, I’m happy for you, but please don’t dismiss those that have as talking nonsense. Who feels it knows it.
So, where do we go from here? Well, you’re never too old to learn, and it’s never too late for change. Racism isn’t genetic. To the White people who want to make a difference start by teaching your children to love not hate and educate yourselves on the real history of how your countries became so ‘great’.
Try to empathise and put yourselves in our shoes before you judge us.
To my fellow brethren, especially those who live in Slough, I say this; we need to focus on us and feel no way about it, and that’s not being divisive, it’s about coming together as one and celebrating us. Throughout the years I have seen nearly every other ethnic minority pull together and support their own without any issue. It’s more than time for us to do the same. It can be achieved we just need trust in each other, faith and to believe.
You can’t have a community without unity, and to the ladies that organised this protest today, my husband Chris Biggs, Rebecca Richardson, Tina Brooks, Tanya and Claudine Brooks-Carty, Anita Herbert and those who have already started in paving the way I thank you.
To the parents out there I’ll end with this, we need to teach our children that these postcode wars and fighting each other will get us nowhere and is bullshit! We will always be stronger together!
R.I.P George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Rayshard Brooks and all those who have lost their lives this week.