My Black Life, In The Balance…#blackhistorymonth2020

I always feel a certain amount of trepidation when publishing something I’ve written, because it requires exposing hitherto hidden pieces of myself to the outside world to scrutinise, sift, and ultimately judge each word, thought, and ideal. As an English-born Afro-Caribbean black man when the call to write falls within Black History Month, it becomes doubly difficult.

I was born on Christmas Eve 1964 at home in Doncaster, not far from the Don Valley Racecourse and the nearby RAF base where my father was stationed as an avionics engineer. A breech birth was very much on the cards until the midwife, with commendable dexterity my mother said, managed to turn me so I was in the traditional headfirst position — so I entered the world in a tumultuous rush. I think I’ve been in a hurry ever since, always impatient to complete any task, but with my Jamaican parents continually reinforcing that old maxim ‘if you must do something, do it right first time’. I was never ever allowed to get away with a lack of quality when it came to results.

This instilled in me a systematic thread which ran through my otherwise chaotic early-life experiences, powered in truth by a real passion and desire to get to the park to play football with friends, or immerse myself in a book, my other obsession. I suppose it also developed in me a tangible desire to achieve a level of perfection, which would hopefully prompt my Dad — who excelled in all things technical, and with whom I clashed often due to his oft cited lack of regard for my inherent ‘dreamer’ mentality — to say something positive about my achievements. This ingrained need for perfection became magnified exponentially when my father pronounced in 1980 that I was to join (which meant that I definitely would, no argument) one of HM Forces when I graduated from my South London-based secondary school. At the time, I felt this was cruel of him, given that I wanted to be a journalist or lawyer, after achieving some pretty good ‘O’ level results (GCSEs in today’s money).

I did get to choose my route and joined the Royal Air Force in 1983, after having to re-sit my mathematics exam because amongst all my other seven As and Bs, I only achieved a D Grade. My father of course insisted I did so on purpose just to get out of the career he’d chosen for me. Little did he know that was something I would never do, because excelling at education and sports was the main source of all my bragging rights with girls!

It was at this point — after living with my family in many rural parts of Oxfordshire, overseas in Singapore (where I attended my first school), and then four years (from 9 to 13) in Jamaica — that I experienced my first consistent taste of systemic bias and racism. This was also the point when I discovered how important my hitherto undiscovered faith and belief systems instilled by my parents were going to play in developing the three Rs which form the basis of the ‘code’ I now live by;

· Resilience — the ability to — as Mr Washington (Denzel of course) said most eloquently — get knocked down seven times, and get up eight;

· Responsibility — the focused and deliberate ownership of those things you agree to do, and the residual impact and consequences of the success or failure to achieve the agreed results;

· Reflection — the consistent process of retrospectively reviewing, challenging, and learning from your daily activities as part of a life-long growth journey;

At each moment during my 55-year lifetime when I have felt (as many people of colour have experienced I’m sure) that the whole world was against me, I intentionally diminished each incident to the size of a small hurdle which I could more easily overcome. This was from a very early age due to my inherent and now infamous stubbornness, and a steadfast refusal to let racially motivated challenges slow me down. Particularly the type of persistent, pervasive, and entrenched bias that can exist towards people that look like me if it’s allowed to grow uninterrupted.

Perversely something that always seemed to trigger these types of incident or exacerbate them was my logical, and controlled approach to handling conflict. Something that was drummed into me by my parents in an attempt to remove the possibility of me being labelled an ‘angry black’ or someone with a ‘chip on your shoulder’. A stigma that has perpetuated for generations. I remember one policeman using the phrase ‘uppity n-word’ when he stopped me for the fourth time that day as I drove through South London. An incident which stayed with me over the years mainly because it was the first time I saw my Mother lose her usual calm demeanor, and raise her voice with a tone I had never heard before. This was a pivotal moment, and I vowed I would never let explicit racist acts force me to be visibly cowed or show weakness.

Another incident from my past which has surfaced recently due to the position we now find ourselves in after the much-publicised murders of George Floyd, and Breonna Taylor in particular, is that period of time when the Stephen Lawrence murder initiated the MacPherson Report. Those who lived through those challenging times, know what it feels like to see confirmation in writing of something we always knew to be true — that an entire policing and legal system was institutionally biased against US.

Here we are many years on, again full of hope that things can change. That now, as our own children and grandchildren embark on their education and careers, they are able to access equality of opportunity. Be celebrated as socially mobile when they have aspirations above their current lived status, without having to bear any negative stigmatisation. Several people, many white, have spoken on my behalf to reduce the impact of systemic bias during my lifetime — most memorably during recruitment, promotions, and at various pivotal career milestones. This perhaps goes some way to explain why my life’s purpose is now fueled by the need to do more to support those who remain excluded from mainstream opportunities. Those who feel bullied by a society that seems to think less of them due to their race, regardless of their frequent displays of academic excellence; exceptional skills and talent; or formidable resilience, particularly where it defies statistical odds.

When you hear of the impact on so many deserving young people who have benefited from the inspired Marcus Rashford campaign to provide school meals to those who rely on them, you cannot help but be moved, and frustrated in equal measure. He is not alone. Several other black sports and music personalities like Raheem Sterling, Robyn Rihanna Fenty, Lewis Hamilton, and Michael ‘Stormzy’ Owuo have also used their well-earned platforms as role models to change lives. How can I not do the same, because if not now then when, and if not me then who. I truly believe that in the future when we review our black history against the current Covid and BLM context, it will show that we can indeed be the change we want to see. So let’s make that change together, powered by our collective purpose, excellence, and ambition to build a better forever.