Saturday, 29 February 2020
Thursday, 27 February 2020
The Racists & the Coconuts of Brexit
This is contributed by Ash Hirani.
Almost four years after our decision to leave the European Union and the rhetoric that preceded and then followed it, if you’re one of those who still believes that voting to leave was only, or mainly, because of racism then stop reading this. It’s pointless. You won't be swayed either way.
Cries of racism and all the mudslinging over our decision to leave the EU is getting tiresome now. I was in my late thirties when I voted to leave the EU but the bile continues nearly four years later, so here’s some context…
I was born and bred in South London to Indian immigrants. At 6 years old I was repeatedly called a Paki at school. My grandfather said it meant that the other kids were just ignorant but it bothered me because of the way it was said more so than the word itself.
Racism took on a whole new meaning when the BNP opened a bookshop nearby and skinheads started marching along our road. Occasionally, we got messages to stay indoors on certain days. When I heard voices yelling 'Pakis out' as they went past our house it didn’t mean much at first.
The skinheads’ marches got more violent with cars and houses being damaged. We barricaded ourselves in the back room with me under the table (usually with my baby brother on my lap) hoping that we wouldn’t hear the sound of glass smashing or the door being kicked in. Our window was smashed once and we just replaced it. The second time round we couldn’t afford to get it fixed so it was patched up for weeks. Dad and grandad took turns to sleep on the sofa to make sure nobody got in. That’s when I felt the real terror of racism.
I remember a day when Mrs Reeves next door dragged me into her house and passed me to my grandmother over the garden fence. The skinheads were on the move and it was home time for the Saturday workers in our family. We were terrified for their safety.
I remember my uncle running into the house a few times. Skinheads used to chase him with lumps of wood full of rusty nails. They hung around at the bottom of the road. He used to finish work at 4pm but often came home late. He’d just wander around in the cold until they left.
A few years later a friend in my class at secondary school came in and told us his cousin Rohit was murdered in a racist attack. A few months later, there was another murder of another Indian lad. I remember all communities coming together to organise anti racism rallies.
A few years later at college, Stephen Lawrence had been playing pool one morning. That was the last I saw of him. We were called in to the Student Union that week and told he had been murdered the previous night. Suddenly, we were back to where we began. The terror was back.
Life went on after that and, apart from the odd idiot, things got better. Racism started to become a non issue. The odd bit of workplace hassle was a doddle to deal with compared to the atrocities of the past.
It now grates me when I hear people race-baiting or using racism for political purposes. People in positions of influence should understand the divisions they’re recreating – divisions that were long eliminated as a result of actual loss of blood and the sheer hard work of many.
Racism does exist. Of course it does. Sadly, it’s becoming harder to stamp out because so many people are too busy muffling out the voices of real victims with their fake allegations and outrage. They see racism everywhere and in everything.
The UK has become one of the most tolerant and welcoming countries in the world. When fake slurs are hurled just because people voted a certain way, it starts to become a very dangerous game. To what end? What do people now hope to achieve by all this except to cause division?
I got so fed up with all the Uncle Tom and Coconut slurs just because I was vocal in my support for Brexit. For all the reasons in this write up, every slur was another wound on an already deep scar. People really ought to be kind and think about their words more carefully. Of course there were racists who voted for Brexit but, in a democracy, even horrible people can vote. Just look at the behavior of some Remainers!
I don’t think Brexit has caused hatred. I think it has exposed bile that was already there – on BOTH sides - BUT, it was dying a natural death as it was being stifled of oxygen by so many who have worked so hard over the years. What is happening today is the reopening the wounds of the past, breathing new life into the beast, exposing a whole new generation to the ugliness of the past. This has to stop. We’re fellow citizens and a divided country can never prosper. Is that what those who seek continued divisions actually want? Perhaps they do.
I’ve got caught up in the bitterness. I’m only human. I began to hate people for the way they were behaving too. But this all MUST stop. We’re all responsible for our own actions. Brexit has happened and we all have to let the hatred go now. It’ll just consume us all otherwise.
It’s hard to extend your hand in friendship when you know it’ll just get bitten off, but we must. We've got to start taking positive steps towards creating a better post-Brexit outcome because, whether you voted to leave or remain, the outcomes will affect us all.
I want Britain to succeed, but this depends on how we choose to move on. If we can't get past the cries of racism then we'll never deal with all the other ills in society. We'll just recreate the divisions of the past, and that is a very dangerous game to play.
Almost four years after our decision to leave the European Union and the rhetoric that preceded and then followed it, if you’re one of those who still believes that voting to leave was only, or mainly, because of racism then stop reading this. It’s pointless. You won't be swayed either way.
Cries of racism and all the mudslinging over our decision to leave the EU is getting tiresome now. I was in my late thirties when I voted to leave the EU but the bile continues nearly four years later, so here’s some context…
I was born and bred in South London to Indian immigrants. At 6 years old I was repeatedly called a Paki at school. My grandfather said it meant that the other kids were just ignorant but it bothered me because of the way it was said more so than the word itself.
Racism took on a whole new meaning when the BNP opened a bookshop nearby and skinheads started marching along our road. Occasionally, we got messages to stay indoors on certain days. When I heard voices yelling 'Pakis out' as they went past our house it didn’t mean much at first.
The skinheads’ marches got more violent with cars and houses being damaged. We barricaded ourselves in the back room with me under the table (usually with my baby brother on my lap) hoping that we wouldn’t hear the sound of glass smashing or the door being kicked in. Our window was smashed once and we just replaced it. The second time round we couldn’t afford to get it fixed so it was patched up for weeks. Dad and grandad took turns to sleep on the sofa to make sure nobody got in. That’s when I felt the real terror of racism.
I remember a day when Mrs Reeves next door dragged me into her house and passed me to my grandmother over the garden fence. The skinheads were on the move and it was home time for the Saturday workers in our family. We were terrified for their safety.
I remember my uncle running into the house a few times. Skinheads used to chase him with lumps of wood full of rusty nails. They hung around at the bottom of the road. He used to finish work at 4pm but often came home late. He’d just wander around in the cold until they left.
A few years later a friend in my class at secondary school came in and told us his cousin Rohit was murdered in a racist attack. A few months later, there was another murder of another Indian lad. I remember all communities coming together to organise anti racism rallies.
A few years later at college, Stephen Lawrence had been playing pool one morning. That was the last I saw of him. We were called in to the Student Union that week and told he had been murdered the previous night. Suddenly, we were back to where we began. The terror was back.
Life went on after that and, apart from the odd idiot, things got better. Racism started to become a non issue. The odd bit of workplace hassle was a doddle to deal with compared to the atrocities of the past.
It now grates me when I hear people race-baiting or using racism for political purposes. People in positions of influence should understand the divisions they’re recreating – divisions that were long eliminated as a result of actual loss of blood and the sheer hard work of many.
Racism does exist. Of course it does. Sadly, it’s becoming harder to stamp out because so many people are too busy muffling out the voices of real victims with their fake allegations and outrage. They see racism everywhere and in everything.
The UK has become one of the most tolerant and welcoming countries in the world. When fake slurs are hurled just because people voted a certain way, it starts to become a very dangerous game. To what end? What do people now hope to achieve by all this except to cause division?
I got so fed up with all the Uncle Tom and Coconut slurs just because I was vocal in my support for Brexit. For all the reasons in this write up, every slur was another wound on an already deep scar. People really ought to be kind and think about their words more carefully. Of course there were racists who voted for Brexit but, in a democracy, even horrible people can vote. Just look at the behavior of some Remainers!
I don’t think Brexit has caused hatred. I think it has exposed bile that was already there – on BOTH sides - BUT, it was dying a natural death as it was being stifled of oxygen by so many who have worked so hard over the years. What is happening today is the reopening the wounds of the past, breathing new life into the beast, exposing a whole new generation to the ugliness of the past. This has to stop. We’re fellow citizens and a divided country can never prosper. Is that what those who seek continued divisions actually want? Perhaps they do.
I’ve got caught up in the bitterness. I’m only human. I began to hate people for the way they were behaving too. But this all MUST stop. We’re all responsible for our own actions. Brexit has happened and we all have to let the hatred go now. It’ll just consume us all otherwise.
It’s hard to extend your hand in friendship when you know it’ll just get bitten off, but we must. We've got to start taking positive steps towards creating a better post-Brexit outcome because, whether you voted to leave or remain, the outcomes will affect us all.
I want Britain to succeed, but this depends on how we choose to move on. If we can't get past the cries of racism then we'll never deal with all the other ills in society. We'll just recreate the divisions of the past, and that is a very dangerous game to play.
Sunday, 16 February 2020
Panem et circenses
What more is there left to say about Caroline Flack?
The Romans had a phrase for it: "Panem et circenses".
There'll be a moment's lamentation and pulling of hair, calling out the media and the online trolls, by the very same media and the online trolls, and soon enough, it will all be back to normal, cheering on the gladiators, baying for blood to be spilt on the sands.
The Indians have a phrase for it too:
"एनटरटेनमैटं के लिय कुछ भी करेगा।" (Will do anything for entertainment).
And then we carry on till we drive the next fragile soul to slash their wrists.
'Twas ever thus.
Thursday, 6 February 2020
Under The Sensory Overload
Would that a glimpse take my breath away
Would that a whiff of scent drift me away
Would that the mere brush of fingertips send a chill down my spine
Would that I be sensitised within an inch of my life
To feel the little things buried under sensory overload.
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