Tag: racism

Kingsblood Royal

I don’t even remember how I chose books from my father’s shelf when I had just a few hours to pick things from his house in memory of him, but as I slowly read through the pile nearly ten years later, I know I was guided by angels because each read is so rich and important. 

This is fiction, and I rarely post about those, but it is a work of such beautiful intensity and on such an important subject that I wish the whole world could get the chance to read it. 

Set towards the end of the Second World War in the the northern states of America it explores racism, segregation and morality. The Northern States legally don’t have segregation and technically discrimination shouldn’t be allowed, so compared to the southern states, still deep in segregation, the white populace feel proudly generous and liberal in their hearts. That is until one of their own, a genteel, middle class white man discovers one of his ancestors was not only an exciting, pioneering adventurer but also black. 

In those days, any trace of blood in a person’s heritage, no matter how far back, labelled you a person of colour. So here we have the story of how this chap processes this information in himself, this incredibly beautiful and humbling inner journey he makes to feel proud of his ancestor, his people and his blood; how he takes steps to educate himself on his own prejudices and listens to the local black community to hear their own stories. The array and complexities of characters means we meet opinions and viewpoints from every angle, really highlighting the humanness of a thousand opinions even within one cause of personal freedom. Added to this we face the backlash from his friends, family and community when they discover his ancestry, for which he refuses to hide, and see the ignorance and cruelty that comes from an indoctrination of prejudice. 

The protagonist is an absolute hero, despite numerous opportunities to hide this history, that no one could ever guess at, he stands tall and proud even at the point of lynching. 

Kingsblood Royal was an important novel that positively influenced the start of the Civil Rights Movement and I can see why. I feel far better educated on the vast threads that weave through our society that form the crucial layers for understanding racism and its impacts. And what I feel more deeply, is how the trauma of these times reverberates now, causing sensitivity and triggers that can seem over compensatory relative to our current society but hit ancestral wound after ancestral wound. 

I cannot imagine living in that era, which was still in living memory for some, when black people were treated as less than human. It hearts my heart to place myself in that society, from all the angles and perspectives we see in this book, and wonder how I would have behaved with whatever upbringing I might have had. I hope, whichever side, whichever culture, I would have had the courage to stand with humanity and love but I can see how easy it was to think the wrong thing was right in the ignorance of middle class society and in the righteousness of painful discrimination. There is no simple black or white here, excuse the awkward pun, but the fundamentals are, and always will be, compassion, humanity and understanding. 

An outstanding read. 

First published on social media on 5th March 2023

All Black Lives Matter

I am listening. I am paying attention and what I am hearing is that not all black people support the Black Lives Matter movement.

That’s not to say they don’t value the lives of all black people, or POC, but I am hearing that some feel the movement places them in the space of victim. I heard one woman say, ‘I don’t want you to acknowledge you have white privilege, because that implies that I am underprivileged and I’m not. I don’t want to be put in that world of victim.’

I also have a dear friend whose beautiful, kind, thoughtful and honest boys are followed by security around their local supermarket because of the colour of their gorgeous skin and I feel deep sadness and anger about this. I hear both of these voices and many many more.

I am not writing this to argue the point either which way, nor am I in the place to, I wouldn’t assume that position because I am on some levels truly too ignorant.

What I do know is that I’m uncomfortable being told what to do to be a ‘good’ person. I’m uncomfortable being told my views and values can’t/shouldn’t be a certain way, words are wrong, actions are wrong because someone else says so.

I abhor racism and I stand by opportunity for all (I deliberately avoid the word equal because I don’t believe anything is equal and by trying to create something that fundamentally doesn’t exist we are forcing ourselves, as global neighbours, into some sort of rigid, inflexible paradigm that just ends in frustration and anger). I will raise my children to see and stand up for injustice. Yet I struggle with positive discrimination, doesn’t the work discrimination say enough? Energetically, this is not how I feel balance is restored.

My work is all about exploring the wounds in our lives that create ‘inhuman’ behaviour, be that abuse, control, depression, mania, sexism, racism et al. Because the police officer kneeling on George Floyd’s neck was acting in an inhuman way; murder is a divorcing from our soul. I stand with and support all those that want that sort of behaviour to stop, whatever the motivation; I want to help heal our world.

I don’t want to be shamed for doing it in a way that feels soulful to me, whether that’s blacking out my Instagram or not, donating or not. I know I am listening and learning and hearing more than just one narrative on this emotive and painful issue and we all have our own way to learn and path to take.

All black lives matter to me, the ones who support the movement, the ones who don’t. All lives matter to me, especially those that are struggling, unsupported, wounded and hurting. I stand with you all, but please remember to let me follow my own unique path, just like I would like to bear witness to yours without informing you how you should be.

Being told who we must be to be a ‘good’ human is ultimately so disconnecting and alienating, which is the opposite of what is trying to be achieved. This movement doesn’t represent ALL black people, there are multiple expressions, opinions and beliefs about how this world can heal and I want to be open to hearing them all.

I am listening, I am loving, I am here. That is enough.

Me, Myself, The Snob

I was brought up to be a Snob. Not with any real conscious intention, but just because that’s the way my family’s beliefs lay.

I believed that people who said ‘hay’atch’ instead of ‘aitch’ for the letter H were intellectually inferior; I believed that those who called supper ‘tea’ were common, likewise if napkins were called serviettes. I believed there were strata in society between humans and that our family was thankfully nearer the top than bottom.

I believed this because generation after generation of my family had all believed something similar for far too long.

At 18, I left my privileged echo chamber of private school (and I say this not without gratitude for the experiences and opportunities it provided) and fell into the real world. Not the real real world mind you. Public relations could hardly be called that, but a more culturally diverse environment than I was used to for sure.

In this world, the two A levels I had scraped were deemed major qualifications rather than the desperate failures by my family and academic peers. I was mixing with people whose backgrounds afforded me a window into lifestyles and upbringings that contrasted drastically to my own (and I, who thought I came from the broken side of the family, the rough edge of posh).

And then I dived further… over the years I waitressed and travelled and met more and more people who showed me over and over again how ridiculously narrow my familial belief system had been; how I had been raised to judge people by meaningless standards instead of learning to look into their hearts and meet them human to human.

I see that my family had no malice in their own judgements, they were products of their own upbringing, a continuation of the lineage of pomp and snobbery and done with as much kindness and love as those beliefs can afford.

But now I am entering a new era, a time and age where my own children are beginning their natural formation of opinions about the world around them and I am constantly checking in with myself as to the values I am modelling. Am I carrying old, unhelpful, unkind, judgmental beliefs that I am passing on to my kids or am I shifting the familial system to compassion, acceptance, difference and diversity? I know what I wish to model, but I’m sure my parents thought similarly too, I bet they thought they were raising progressive kids through their own shifts of self awareness and yet I feel their burden of unnecessary opinion heavy on my back.

I feel reactive and triggered by any form of superiority, be it qualifications, age or otherwise. I know now that the humblest and wisest of voices can come from any direction, without a cloak of ego announcing their arrival.

I wonder how my children will view me in another 30 years, what they will perceive to be antiquated notions and what they will choose to do differently.

As I say to my clients, as long as we are moving forward, no matter how slowly, we are still moving forward.

On, on I step, smashing my institutionalised snobbery, one day at a time.