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Why I refuse to join the hate train

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In a world drowning in outrage, where every headline screams division and every scroll brings fresh fury, it’s easy to forget something fundamental: there’s still beauty everywhere.

Turn on the news and you’re bombarded with it all—bans, blame, and bitter arguments about who’s ruining what. Immigrants, the wealthy, the homeless, the young, the benefits claimants—everyone’s apparently the problem. It’s a relentless tide of negativity and moaning that can sweep you under if you’re not careful.

But what if we chose differently?

Here are a few things I noticed in the last couple of weeks:

I came across a book that someone left on a park bench with a note: “Free to a good home.” On another late night, a man saw a mother struggling—baby in one arm, shopping bags in the other—and didn’t hesitate to help her to her car. And if you’re thinking “why didn’t she use a trolley?” then you’re part of the problem I’m talking about, because there were no trolleys in that shop.

In another moment, a homeless person was offering water to a runner who’d collapsed in the heat, providing comfort when it mattered most.

Elsewhere, a teacher stayed late for his “troubled” student preparing for exams. When I asked why, he said: “Everyone calls him destructive. I refuse to lose hope. He’s just a slower learner, and I’ll support him as long as it takes.”

In another event, teenagers on bikes formed a protective barrier around an elderly woman crossing the road.

Small acts. Quiet kindness. The stuff that never makes headlines, doesn't trend on social media, and doesn't fuel debates.

The truth is, these things happen everywhere, all the time. While we’re busy arguing about who’s destroying society, society is quietly rebuilding itself through a million small kindnesses. The coffee lady in the Learning Hub who remembers your order. The elderly doorman at Milton Keyens Costco who draws smiley faces on reciepts and hands them to children on their way out, just to see them smile. The neighbour who randomly helps pick up litter in the neighbourhood with her girls every Sunday afternoon. The friend who texts to check in with the simple words “how are you?”

The truth is simple: for every voice spreading hate, there are countless others spreading hope. For every person tearing down, there are builders, healers, and helpers working in the quiet spaces between the noise.

Yes, problems exist. Yes, challenges are real. But so is the grandfather teaching his grandson about dignity and respect. So is the aunty teaching her niece how to bake. So is the library volunteer reading to the shelter dogs. So is the community garden where strangers become neighbours.

Today, I’m choosing to notice the nice. Not because I’m naive, but because I refuse to let the moaning and the loudest voices drown out the most important ones. The ones that remind us we’re more alike than different. The ones that choose connection over division.

Your turn: What nice thing will you notice today? Free your mind, pay attention—you'll see one.

Because in a sea of anger, being gentle isn’t weak or naive—it’s revolutionary.

Zemiological Perspective: Educational Experiences of Black Students at the University of Northampton

This realisation prompted me to adopt a zemiological perspective, drawing upon the work of Hillyard et al. (2004) to highlight the subtle yet impactful harms faced by Black students in the educational system. My primary objective was to uncover the challenges these students face, as outlined in my initial research question: ‘To what extent can the experiences of Black students in higher education be understood as a form of social harm?’ To achieve this, I analysed the educational experiences of Black students at the University of Northampton. This involved reviewing the university’s access and participation plans, which detail the performance, access, and progression of various demographics within the institution, with a particular focus on BAME students.

Critical race theory (CRT) was the guiding theoretical framework for this research study. CRT recognises the multifaceted nature of racism, encompassing both blatant acts of racial discrimination and subtler, systemic forms of oppression that negatively impact minority ethnic groups (Gillborn, 2006). This theoretical approach is directly correlated to my research and was strongly relevant. This allowed me to gain insight into the underlying reasons behind the disparities faced by Black students in higher education. As well as enabling me to unpack the complexities of racism and discrimination, providing a comprehensive understanding of how these issues manifest and persist within the educational landscape.

Through conducting content analysis on the UON Access and Participation Plan document and comparing it to sector averages in higher education, four major findings came to light:

Access and Recruitment: The University of Northampton has made impressive progress in improving access and recruitment for BAME students, fostering diversity and inclusivity in higher education, and surpassing sector standards. Yet, while advancements are apparent, there remains a need for more comprehensive approaches to tackle systemic barriers and facilitate academic success across the broader sector.

Non-Continuation: Alarmingly, non-continuation rates among BAME students at the University of Northampton have surpassed the sector average, indicating persistent systemic obstacles within the education system. High non-continuation rates perpetuate cycles of disadvantage and limit opportunities for personal and professional growth.

Attainment Gap: Disparities in academic attainment between White and BAME students have persisted and continue to persist, reflecting systemic inequalities and biases within the academic landscape. UON is significantly behind the sector average when it comes to attainment gaps between BAME students and their white counterparts. Addressing the attainment gap requires comprehensive approaches that tackle systemic difficulties and provide targeted support to BAME students.

Progression to Employment or Further Study: UON is also behind the sector average in BAME students progression in education or further study. BAME students face substantial disparities in progression to employment or further study, highlighting the need for collaborative efforts to promote diversity and inclusivity within industries and professions. Addressing entrenched biases in recruitment processes is essential to fostering equitable opportunities for BAME students.

Contributions to Research: This research deepens understanding of obstacles within the educational system, highlighting the effectiveness of a zemiological perspective in studying social inequalities in education. By applying Critical Race Theory, the study offers insights that can inform policies aimed at fostering equity and inclusion for Black students.

The findings hold practical implications for policy and practice, informing the development of interventions to address disparities and create a more supportive educational environment. This research significantly contributes to our understanding of the experiences of Black students in higher education and provides valuable guidance for future research and practice in the field.

Aside from other limitations in my dissertation, the main limitation was the frequent use of the term ‘BAME.’ This term is problematic as it fails to recognise the distinct experiences, challenges, and identities of individual ethnic communities, leading to generalisation and overlooking specific issues faced by Black students (Milner and Jumbe, 2020). While ‘BAME’ is used for its wide recognition in delineating systemic marginalisation (UUK 2016 cited in McDuff et al., 2018), it may conceal the unique challenges Black students face when grouped with other minority ethnic groups. The term was only used throughout this dissertation as the document being analysed also used the term ‘BAME’.

This dissertation was a very challenging but interesting experience for me, engaging with literature was honestly challenging but the content in said literature did keep me intrigued. Moving forward, i would love Black students experiences to continue to be brought to light and i would love necessary policies, institutional practises and research to allow change for these students. I do wish i was more critical of the education system as the harm does more so stem from institutional practices. I also wish i used necessary literature to highlight how covid-19 has impacted the experiences of black students, which was also feedback highlighted by my supervisor Dr Paula Bowles.

I am proud of myself and my work, and i do hope it can also be used to pave the way for action to be taken by universities and across the education system. Drawing upon the works of scholars like Coard, Gillborn, Arday and many others i am happy to have contributed to this field of research pertaining to black students experiences in academia. Collective efforts can pave the way for a more promising and fairer future for Black students in education.

References

Gillborn, D. (2006). Critical Race Theory and Education: Racism and anti-racism in educational theory and praxis. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 27 (1), 11–32. [Accessed 21 April 2024]

Hillyard, P., Pantazis, C., Tombs, S. and Gordon, D., (Eds), (2004). Beyond Criminology: Taking Harm Seriously, London: Pluto Press.

Milner, A. and Jumbe, S., (2020). Using the right words to address racial disparities in COVID-19. The Lancet Public Health, 5(8), pp. e419-e420

Mcduff, N., Tatam, J., Beacock, O. and Ross, F., (2018). Closing the attainment gap for students from Black and minority ethnic backgrounds through institutional change. Widening Participation and Lifelong Learning, 20(1), pp.79-101.

Still holding Black women to European beauty standards

Many of you, like me will be enjoying the 2024 Olympic games in Paris: from the sheer amount of dedication, talent, and passion, to the ups and downs, the shocks and surprises and everything else in-between. However, it was something outside of the games that struck me. Simone Biles, the most decorated gymnast in history, received negative criticism online about her hair being unkempt on a video that she uploaded of herself and teammates on a bus. Simone then felt the need to address the comments and remind the public about overstepping the mark.

At first, Simone justified why her hair may have looked ‘messy’, explaining that it had been done prior to the bus journey, and that it was the heat and the long bus ride that had led to her hair falling out of place. She followed up these justifications with another post that reminded the public to kindly not mention a Black woman’s hair. This brought me back to discussions within my research where I highlight the European beauty standards that Black women are held to (Charles, 2024). Black women’s hair has for a long time been seen as unprofessional, messy and problematic. On the other spectrum, Black women’s natural hair has been marvelled at and touched without permission, causing Black women to feel hyper-visible and uncomfortable. Whichever encounter, it can lead to many Black women feeling the need to change their hair or mould it into something that looks more European (Charles, 2024; Patton, 2006). European beauty ideals and standards create further challenges and judgement that Black women face in society. Black women are scrutinised against racialised beauty ideals they cannot achieve, and they are perceived to be failing to measure up to the normative standard (Patton, 2006).

It should be a woman’s choice to style her hair how she wants, without external factors influencing or determining these choices. Additionally, Black hair needs to stop being compared to European hairstyles, in which such comparisons put European hairstyles on a pedestal. Speaking from experience, for many Black women, learning to love your hair for what it is rather than lament over what it is not can sometimes be a process. It can be a process of confusion, growth, trial and error, liberation, empowerment and pride. Moreover, it can be an important part of someone’s identity. I hope Simone Biles’ courage to challenge such comments can act as a springboard for others to do the same with power and resilience, and I hope we can start to normalise Black hair and hairstyles for future generations.

References

Charles, A. (2024) Black Women in Prison: Exploring the Intersection of Race and Gender in Experiences of Imprisonment. Unpublished PhD Thesis. Milton Keynes: The Open University.

Patton, T. O. (2006) ‘Hey Girl, Am I More than My Hair?: African American Women and Their Struggles with Beauty, Body Image, and Hair’, NWSA Journal, 18(2), pp. 24-51. Available at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4317206

By whose standards?

This blog post takes inspiration from the recent work of Jason Warr, titled ‘Whitening Black Men: Narrative Labour and the Scriptural Economics of Risk and Rehabilitation,’ published in September 2023. In this article, Warr sheds light on the experiences of young Black men incarcerated in prisons and their navigation through the criminal justice system’s agencies. He makes a compelling argument that the evaluation and judgment of these young Black individuals are filtered through a lens of “Whiteness,” and an unfair system that perceives Black ideations as somewhat negative.

In his careful analysis, Warr contends that Black men in prisons are expected to conform to rules and norms that he characterises as representing a ‘White space.’ This expectation of adherence to predominantly White cultural standards not only impacts the effectiveness of rehabilitation programmes but also fails to consider the distinct cultural nuances of Blackness. With eloquence, Warr (2023, p. 1094) reminds us that ‘there is an inherent ‘whiteness’ in behavioural expectations interwoven with conceptions of rehabilitation built into ‘treatment programmes’ delivered in prisons in the West’.

Of course, the expectation of adhering to predominantly White cultural norms transcends the prison system and permeates numerous other societal institutions. I recall a former colleague who conducted doctoral research in social care, asserting that Black parents are often expected to raise and discipline their children through a ‘White’ lens that fails to resonate with their lived experiences. Similarly, in the realm of music, prior to the mainstream acceptance of hip-hop, Black rappers frequently voiced their struggles for recognition and validation within the industry due similar reasons. This phenomenon extends to award ceremonies for Black actors and entertainers as well. In fact, the enduring attainment gap among Black students is a manifestation of this issue, where some students find themselves unfairly judged for not innately meeting standards set by a select few individuals. Consequently, the significant contributions of Black communities across various domains – including fashion, science and technology, workplaces, education, arts, etc – are sometimes dismissed as substandard or lacking in quality.

The standards I’m questioning in this blog are not solely those shaped by a ‘White’ cultural lens but also those determined by small groups within society. Across various spheres of life, whether in broader society or professional settings, we frequently encounter phrases like “industry best practices,” “societal norms,” or “professional standards” used to dictate how things should be done.

However, it’s crucial to pause and ask:

By whose standards are these determined?

And are they truly representative of the most inclusive and equitable  practices?

This is not to say we should discard all concepts of cultural traditions or ‘best practices’. But we need to critically examine the forces that establish standards that we are sometimes forced to follow. Not only do we need to examine them, we must also be willing to evolve them when necessary to be more equitable and inclusive of our full societal diversity.

Minority groups (by minority groups here, I include minorities in race, class, and gender) face unreasonably high barriers to success and recognition – where standards are determined only by a small group – inevitably representing their own identity, beliefs and values.

So in my opinion, rather than defaulting to de facto norms and standards set by a privileged few, we should proactively construct standards that blend the best wisdom from all groups and uplift underrepresented voices – and I mean standards that truly work for everyone.

References

Warr, J. (2023). Whitening Black Men: Narrative Labour and the Scriptural Economics of Risk and Rehabilitation, The British Journal of Criminology, Volume 63, Issue 5, Pages 1091–1107, https://doi.org/10.1093/bjc/azac066

I’m not Black; my Friends and I are Brown, not Black

I recently began the process of preparing my child for the imminent transition to a new school situated in a diverse community. Despite being born into a similarly diverse environment, his early educational exposure occurred in an ethnically varied setting. Venturing into this new chapter within a racially diverse community has sparked a keen interest in him.

My child soon articulated a perspective that challenged conventional racial labels. He asserted that he and his friend Lucien are not accurately described as ‘black,’ rather he believes they are ‘brown.’ He went further to contest the classification of a lady on TV, who was singing the song “Ocean” by Hillsong, as ‘white.’ According to him, his skin is not black like the trousers he was wearing, and the lady is not white like the paper on my lap. This succinct but profound statement held more critical significance than numerous conversations I’ve encountered in my over five years of post-PhD lecturing.

The task at hand, guiding an under seven-year-old questioning the conventional colour-based categorisation, proved challenging. How do I convince an under seven-year-old that his knowledge of colours should be limited to abstract things and that persons with brown toned skin are ‘black’ while those with fair or light toned skinned are ‘white’? I found myself unprepared to initiate this complex conversation, but his persistent curiosity and incessant ‘why prompts’ compelled me to seek creative ways to address the matter. Even as I attempted to distract myself with a routine evening shower and dinner, my mind continued to grapple with the implications of our conversation.

Post-dinner, my attempt to engage in my usual political news catch-up led me to a YouTube vlog by Adeola titled ‘How I Almost Died!’ where she shared her pregnancy challenges. One statement she made struck a chord: ‘if you are a black woman and you are having a baby in America, please always advocate for yourself, don’t ever keep quiet, whatever you are feeling, keep saying it until they do something about it’ (18:39).  This sentiment echoed similar experiences of tennis star Serena Williams, who faced negligence during childbirth in 2017.

The experiences of these popular ‘black’ women not only reminds me that the concept ‘black’ and ‘white’ are not only symbolic, but a tool for domination and oppression, and disadvantaging the one against the other. Drawing inspiration from Jay-Z’s ‘the story of O.J’, the song drew attention to the experiences of race, success, and the complexities of navigating the world as a ‘black’ individual. In the song, two themes stood out for me, the collective vulnerability to prejudice and the apparent bias in the criminal justice system towards ‘black’ people. In the UK, both proportional underrepresentation in staff number and proportional overrepresentation of minoritized groups in the criminal justice system and the consequences therefrom is still topical.

Jay-Z’s nuanced understanding of ‘black’ identity rejects simplistic narratives while emphasising its multifaceted nature. The verse, “O.J. ‘like I’m not black, I’m O.J.’ Okay” underscores the challenges even successful ‘black’ individuals face within racial systems. As criminologists, we recognize the reflection of these issues in daily experiences, prompting continuous self-reflexivity regarding our values, power positions, and how our scholarly practice addresses or perpetuates these concerns. Ultimately, the question persists: Can a post-racially biassed world or systems truly exist?

A world without prisons follow-up.  A student/staff reflection piece

As a department Criminology has pushed the envelope in promoting discussions around the key disciplinary debates.  @franbitalo and myself co-ordinated a conversation where the main focus was to imagine “a world without prisons”.  The conversation was very interesting, and we decided to post parts of it as a legacy of the social debates we engage in.  The discussion is captured as a series of comments made by the students with some prompts in bold. 

The original question stands, can you imagine a world without prisons?  First thing first, there is a feeling that prisons will always exist as mechanisms to control our society.  Mainly because our society is too punitive and focused on punishment rather than rehabilitation.  We live in a society that ideologically sees the prison as the representation of being hard on crime.  Further to this point we may never be able to abolish the prison, so it can always remain as the last resort of what to do with those who have harm others.  Especially for those in our society who deserve to be punished because of what they did.  Perhaps we could reform it or extend the use of the probation service dealing with crime. 

In an ideal world prisons should not exist especially because the system seems to target particular groups, namely minorities and people from specific background.  It important to note that it does stop people seeking or taking justice into their hands and deflecting any need for vengeance “eye for an eye”.  Prison is a punishment done in the name of society, but it does carry political overtones.  There are parts of political ideology that support the idea that punishment is meant to make an example of those breaking the law.  This approach is deeply rooted, and is impervious to reform or change. Which can become one of the biggest issues regarding prisons. 

Then there is the public’s view on prisons.  When people hear that prisons will go they will be very unhappy and even frightened.  They will feel that without prisons people will go crazy and commit crimes without any consequences.  Society, people feel, will go into a state of anarchy where vigilantism will become the acceptable course of action.  This approach becomes more urgent when considering particular types of criminals, like sex offenders and in particular, paedophiles.  Regardless of the intention of the act, these types of crime cause serious harm that the victim carries for the rest of their lives.  The violation of trust and the lack of consent makes these crimes particularly repulsive and prison worthy.  How about child abduction?  Not sure if we should make prison crime specific.  That will not serve its purpose, instead it will make it the dumping ground for some crime categories, sending a message that only some people will go to prison. 

Will that be the only crime category worthy of prison?  In an ideal world, those who commit serious financial crimes should be going to prison, if such a prison existed.  Again, here if we are considering harm as the reason to keep prisons open these types of crime cause maximum harm.  The implication of white-collar crime, serious fraud and tax evasion deprive our society of taxes and income that is desperately needed in social infrastructure, services and social support.  Financial crime flaunts the social contract and weakens society.  Perhaps those involved should be made to contribute reparations.  The prison question raises another issue to consider especially with all the things said before!  Who “deserves” to go to prison.  Who gets to go and who is given an alternative sentence is based on established views on crime.  There are a lot of concerns on the way crime is prioritised and understood because these prioritisations do not reflect the reality of social disorder.  Prison is an institution that scapegoats the working classes.  Systematically the system imprisons the poor because class is an imprisonable factor; the others being gender and race. 

If we keep only certain serious crimes on the books, we are looking at a massive reduction in prison numbers.  Is that the way to abolitionism?  The prison plays too much of a role in the Criminal Justice System to be discounted.  The Industrial Prison Complex as a criminological concept indicates the strengths of an institution that despite its failings, hasn’t lost its prominence.  On the side of the State, the establishment is a barrier to any reform or changes to this institution.  Changes are not only needed for prison, but also for the way the system responds to the victims of crime as well.  Victims are going through a process of re-victimisation and re-harming them.  This is because the system is using the victims as part of the process, in giving evidence.  If there is concern for those harmed by crime, that is not demonstrated by the strictness of the prison.

As a society currently we may not be able to abolish prisons but we ought to reduce the harm punishment has onto people.  In order to abolish prisons, the system will have to be ready to allow for the change to happen.  In the meantime, alternative justice systems have not delivered anything different from what we currently have.  One of the reasons is that as a society we have the need to see justice being served.  A change so drastic as this will definitely require a change in politics, a change in ideology and a change in the way we view crime as a society in order to succeed.  The conversation continues… 

Thank you to all the participating students: Katja, Aimee, Alice, Zoe, Laura, Amanda, Kayleigh, Chrissy, Meg, and Ellie also thank you to my “partner in crime” @franbitalo.      

Public confidence in the CJS: ending on a high?

2022 has been a turbulent and challenging year for many. Social inequalities and disadvantage are rife, with those in power repeatedly making bad, inhumane decisions and with very little, to no, accountability or consequences (insert your favourite example from the sh** storm that is the Conservative Party here). Union after Union, across sectors, engage in industrial action in response to poor working conditions and pay, amidst a cost-of-living crisis. And although seemingly unconnected, as the year comes to a close, the Sentencing Guidelines (2022) report on Public Confidence in the Criminal Justice System (CJS) has got me feeling frustrated. My previous blog entries have often been ‘moans’. And whilst January is often dubbed the month of new beginnings and change for the year ahead: we’re not quite there yet so true to form here is my latest moan!

The report exists as one of many conducted by Savanta to collate data on public confidence, in terms of effectiveness and fairness, in the CJS and public awareness of the sentencing guidelines. The data collected in March 2022, was via online surveys given to a “nationally representative sample of 2,165 adults in England and Wales” (Archer et al., 2022, p.9). Some of their highlighted ‘Key Findings’ include that confidence levels in CJS remains relatively stable in comparison to 2018, on the whole, respondents viewed sentences as ‘too lenient’ however this varied based on offence, the existence of the sentencing guidelines improves respondent’s confidence in the fairness of sentencing, and that engagement with broadcast news sources was high across respondents (Archer et al., 2022). It is not the findings, per se, that I take umbrage with, but rather the claim it is a “nationally representative sample of adults in England and Wales” (Archer et al., 2022, p.9).

I take issue on two fronts. The first being that the sample size of 2,165 adult respondents is representative when the demographic factors included are: gender (male and female), age (18-34yo, 35-54yo and 55+), region, ethnicity (White, Mixed, Asian, Black and Other) and socio-economic grade. Now considering we are, thankfully, at the end of 2022 we should all be able to recognise that a sample which only includes cis-gendered options, narrows ethnicity down to 4 categories and the charming ‘other’, and does not include disabilities is problematic. There has been a large body of research done on people with disabilities and their experiences within the CJS, the lack of representation, the lack of accessibility to space and decisions, potentially impacting a defendant’s right to a fair trial, and a victim’s right to justice (Equality and Human Rights Commission, 2021; Hyun et al., 2013 ). So I ask, is this not something which needs considering when looking at public confidence in the CJS of a “nationally representative” sample?

In addition to this, I take issue with the requirement that the sample be “nationally representative”. We have research piece upon research piece about how Black men and Black boys experience the CJS and its various agencies disproportionately to their white counterparts (Lammy, 2017; Monteith et al., 2022; Parmar, 2012). Their experiences of stop and search, sentencing, bail, access to programmes within the Secure and Youth estate. There is nothing representative about our CJS in terms of who it processes, how this is done, and by whom. According to Monteith et al., (2022) 1% of Judges in the CJS are Black, and there are NO Black judges on the High Court, Court of Appeal of Supreme Court: this is not representative! Why then, are we concerned with a representative sample when looking at public confidence in CJS and the sentencing guidelines, when it is not experienced in a proportionate manner?

Maybe I’ve missed the point?

The report is clear, accessible, visible to the public: crucial concepts when thinking about justice, and measuring public confidence in the CJS is fraught with difficulties (Bradford and Myhill, 2015; Kautt and Tankebe, 2011). But this just feels like another nail being thumped into the coffin that is 2022. Might be the eagerness I possess to leave 2022 behind, or the impeding dread for the year to follow but the report has angered me rather than reassured me. As a criminologist, I am hopeful for a more inclusive, representative, fair and accountable CJS, but I am not sure how this will be achieved if we do not accept that the system disproportionately impacts (but not exclusively) Black men, women and children. Think it might be time for another mince pie…

Happy New Year to you all!

References:

Archer, N., Butler, M., Avukatu, G. and Williams, E. (2022) Public Knowledge of Confidence in the Criminal Justice System and Sentencing: 2022 Research. London: Sentencing Council.

Bradford, B. and Myhill, A. (2015) Triggers of change to public confidence in the police and criminal justice system: Findings from the crime survey for England and Wales panel experiment, Criminology and Criminal Justice, 15(1), pp.23-43.

Equality and Human Rights Commission (2021) Does the criminal justice system treat disabled people fairly? [Online] Available at: https://www.equalityhumanrights.com/en/inquiries-and-investigations/does-criminal-justice-system-treat-disabled-people-fairly [ Accessed 4th November 2021].

Hyun, E., Hahn, L. and McConnell, D. (2013) Experiences of people with learning disabilities in the criminal justice system, British Journal of Learning Disabilities, 42: 308-314.

Kautt, P. and Tankebe, J. (2011) Confidence in the Criminal Justice System in England and Wales: A Test of Ethnic Effects, International Criminal Justice Review, 21(2),pp. 93-117.

The Lammy Review (2017) The Lammy Review: An independent review into the treatment of, and outcomes for, Black Asian and Minority Ethnic Individuals in the Criminal Justice System, [online] Available at: https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/goverment/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/643001/lammy-review-final-report-pdf [Last Accessed 14th February 2021].

Monteith, K., Quinn, E., Dennis, A., Joseph-Sailsbury, R., Kane, E., Addo, F. and McGourlay, C. (2022) Racial Bias and the Bench: A Response to the Judicial Diversity and Inclusion Strategy (2020-2025), [online] Available at: https://documents.manchester.ac.uk/display.aspax?DOCID=64125 [Accessed 4th November 2022].

Parmar, A. (2012) Racism and ethnicity in the criminal justice process, in: Hucklesby, A. and Wahidin, A. (eds.) Criminal Justice, 2nd ed, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp.267-296.

The Color Purple, The Musical: What in the Misogynoir?!

The term misogynoir was first coined by Moya Bailey (2010) to describe the specific discrimination that Black women and girls experience through the combination of both anti-Blackness and misogyny, thus the term misogynoir.

TW: mentions of rape, child rape, racism, and misogynoir.

Alice Walker’s novel The Color Purple is a story loved around the world. So, when I saw that it was adapted to stage and touring the UK, my interest was peaked just enough to consider a visit to my local theatre the Royal & Derngate in Northampton. A Curve and Birmingham Hippodrome co-production, it came to Northampton in the first week of October. Largely, audiences that frequent my local theatre are overwhelmingly white – thus, watching The Color Purple it was a joy to my heart to hear Black people in my community engaging with the arts, because the last time I heard so many Black people attended, was for Our Lady of Kibeho as part of the R&D’s Made in Northampton season. This dates back to 2019, a production I reviewed for The Nenequirer showing that Northampton(shire) arts has work to do.

Social media platforms like Twitter and Instagram showed me the pretty unanimous positive praise for the Leicester-Birmingham co-production, while local critics also enjoyed it – including reviews from The Chronicle & Echo and The Nenequirer as well as further reviews by The Real Chris Sparkle and Northampton Town Centre BID. However, there were elements of the show that caused me great distress, no less than the perpetuation of misogynoir and racist stereotypes against Black men. It was deeply triggering, showing how historical trauma and vicarious trauma are ever present, including when white organisations have not done the work of protecting Black mental health when producing “Black-centred media.”

At the head of this cast, Me’sha Bryan gives a knockout performance as Celie (previous played by Whoopi Goldberg in the film) accompanied by Aaliya Zhané as Nettie, with Bree Smith as Shug Avery, and brilliant musical numbers grounded in the traditions of blues music that finds its origins in the trauma of enslaved Africans in the American South. They sang when “they got the blues” … and as far as performance and the commitment from the cast, I couldn’t ask for better.

However, whilst I have praised the musical numbers above, I did not believe it fitted with the tones of The Color Purple curating a rift between what the actors were saying and doing on stage, and the intonations of the music – as well as the lighting design. And despite the directorial position deciding the rape of a child wasn’t musical material (rightly so), the choice to have it as a passing detail with no further discussion, I found particularly off-key. This is one of the moments that highlights that The Color Purple may not have been musical material and better considered as a serious drama. I did not walk away feeling that bleak, much ado with contradictory lighting choices to character moods. The characters were feeling one away and lights did something else. By the by, rather than skip over the rape to maintain “the musicalness”, it may have been more effective to have done this story as a stage drama (with musical elements, if at all). The horrors depicted at the beginning of the novel are pretty nonexistent in musical.

So, this recent adaptation was a disappointment. Not from an acting point of view but behind-the-scenes pre-production elements like direction. The start of story includes a fourteen year-old who births two children after being raped by her father. So, the amount of trauma that exists around child sexual abuse and rape appear unconsidered when they glossed over these parts of the story. Furthermore, I do question if they consulted with any survivors when doing research for this adaptation. A ‘sensitivity consultant’ would not have gone amiss either, further to considerations of intersectionality and how cultural nuances in global, but still different Black communities, will be interpreted by white people, especially in provincial Little England.

Blown away by the musical abilities of the cast, stage productions (like much art) are often labelled as “escapist” so is not afforded the same criticality as for example – policing, education, sport and so on – we are all guilty of this and we can do better. This may be art; there were no redeeming Black characters, and Black men calling Black women “ugly” (written into the script) in full face of a white audience is cultural violence. In Northampton, the large white audience laughed at this example of ableist misogynoir, and in many ways this production felt to be played up for white audiences. Lots of white people are not used to seeing Black people as full human beings, and I do feel the play draws out our humanity. And by proxy centres white comfort with a Black aesthetic reinforced by white supremacy in media.

Disability justice activist Talia Lewis has released definitions of ableism every year since 2019. In January 2022, she discussed ableism as a violent social discourse that values people’s bodies and minds according to societally constructed ideas of “normalcy, productivity, desirability, intelligence, excellence and fitness …” Lewis (2022) states that these ideas are embedded in other violent discourses such as eugenics, capitalism, misogyny and white supremacy. The adaptation of these characters is only part of this debate, where another part may want to consider how this play has informed everpresent white superemacism pervasive across Northamptonnshire. It may impact how local white audiences may view Black people when they perceive that in this cultural text – ‘this is how Black people talk and act around each other.’

“This systemic oppression leads to people and society determining people’s value based on their culture, age, language, appearance, religion, birth or living place, “health/wellness”, and/or their ability to satisfactory re/produce, “excel” and “behave.” You do not have to be disabled to experience ableism.”

Talia Lewis (2022)

In Homegrown (hooks and Mesa-Bains, 2017), bell hooks tell us “We have to constantly critique imperialist white supremacist patriarchal culture because it is so normalized by mass media and rendered unproblematic. The products of mass media offer the tools of the new pedagogy.” Theatre is no different to films, literature or television programmes. Watching the musical, it struck me how the numbers of people who haven’t done the work of unlearning their own white supremacy would be impacted by such an adaptation (yes, as we know all humans can reproduce these isms but in a global western context, however, white supremacy has put white people on the top of that racial hierarchy).

One instance of misogynoir and ableism was underpinned by the three Black women singers (their character names escape me) who were written as Sassy Black Women inherently “comedifying” Black womanhood. Brilliant singers, but were written lazily reinforcing a damaging cultural media narrative that diminishes the three-dimensional personhoods of Black women. This was offered with no alternative. The Hypersexual Jezebel (named after the “sinful” Biblical character) appears in numbers of characters while Sofia was written as the Strong Black Woman. Black men were then written as violent, comedic relief, illiterate, and other harmful stereotypes, and domestic abuser Mr Albert is redeemed to the sound of musical harmonies and joyful lighting.

At a Northampton level, the critics from local media revisited a culture of uncritically discussing art. Stories aren’t just stories but a product of the society that created them, and we are a society that finds it easier to challenge the criminal justice system than it does liberal arts institutions, in spite of both having a say in how Black people are viewed and treated. Despite “Black theatre” not being genre, we need more shows at the Derngate that centre Blackness in Britain. And whilst commissioning and hosting shows about ‘Black issues’ is not evidence of an anti-racist commitment, it would be nice to see more shows locally about Black people in the UK by Black people.

When we do get “Black stories”, they so often centre the US, most recently The Color Purple (Oct, 2022) and Two Trains Running (Sept, 2019) – denying local audiences a context for Blackness within the United Kingdom, while recentring American Blacknesses is gaslighting through art. In November, Dreamgirls centring American Blackness is coming to the Derngate. A co-production between The Curve and the Birmingham Hippodrome, this adaptation of The Color Purple was deeply problematic on many levels that local white critics may not have picked up on because of their whiteness – drawn in by a spectacle of a “Black show”, viewed through a white gaze that is unused to talking about white supremacy as a political structure.

The white audience for these misogynoir tropes specifically – largely one of laughter – reminded me of the white gaze, with white laughter as eased white supremacy. Whiteness continues to pervade through ‘acceptable racism’ where serious digs made at Black people in-text laughed at by white people may show how white people may think about Black people in designated white spaces. A Black man seriously calling a Black woman ugly and a white audience laughing at that is incredibly revealing – a comfortableness in spaces coded as white … and how white people may act when thinking and talking about Black people in private (i.e in spaces coded as culturally white and desgined to their comfort).

“I grew up in a culture of bantering and, ngl, I love a caustic riposte. And while in certain ways I resent the current policing of language, there is a distinction. I hate to break it to you, but a “joke” in which the gag is that the person is black isn’t a joke, it’s just racism disguised as humor. A joke told to a white audience where the punch line is a racist stereotype isn’t a joke, again it’s just racism; if there is only one black person present, it’s also cowardly and it’s bullying. Jokes of this nature probably aren’t funny for black people.”

Emma Dabiri (2021: 98)

Art imitating life is one thing, but when life imitates art is another. White laughter at Black people in cultural media texts goes back to the days when blackface was on the BBC (until 1978). To see this platformed by a local arts institution then profiting from it, is revealing of how whiteness is performed and profited from, when white people think they’re not being watched. Creatives have a responsibility and so do those institutions that platform them.

Myself and fellow blogger @haleysread discuss this further in our prior entries about the scandal surrounding Jimmy Carr and Netflix. On that October evening, being one of the few Black people in the audience, it was incredibly uncomfortable. To consider art uncritically is to be entertained from a vantage point of privilege (or ignorance). Attending with my friend, to see unanimous positive feedback from the public made us feel a way, no less than from many Black people. We must always be critical; being critical is not the same as criticising, and those who are critical only take the time to be so because we care.

It is not about individual actors but about the lack of critique of institutional platforming in producing “art” that goes on to cause harm. Another fellow blogger Stephanie @svr2727 talked about misogynoir and the media in her recent webinar with the Criminology Team and Black Criminology Network. Violent mistakes in arts productions show a need not for more historical consultants, but sensitivity readers and empathy viewers. One cannot teach empathy, you either have it or you do not. Extending this gaze to screen media texts as well like Bridgerton and others, it is a further reminder that social scientists are needed at the very top of media … especially those of us that research about race, racism, and other forms of violence.

These cultural texts are rehearsed, edited, and considered by multiple hands before any public audience sees them. So, why are we still having to challenge? Simple: misogynoir, ableism, and whiteness are institutionalised and normalised socially and culturally into our day-to-day practice. No less than in “liberal” arts institutions.

“Nothing but a circus, with clowns and all.” – Malcolm X

Do You Remember the Time? At the Lynching Memorial

On September 11, 2021 I visited the Lynching Memorial, which is near the newly expanded Equal Justice Initiative Museum, From Enslavement to Mass Incarceration.

At the heart of the “National Memorial for Peace and Justice” (Lynching memorial) is a vast collection of giant, rusty metal, rectangular pillars, hanging tightly together like a neatly planned and well-looked-after orchard.

Etched in each are the names of (known) lynching victims by date.

We can see that, at times, entire families were lynched.

The pillars are hung so cleverly that one has to experience this artistic installation in person.

Nonetheless, the subject of white terrorism in the deep south is heavy,

Which is perhaps why Guests are invited to visit the nearby museum before the Memorial.

One needs time to prepare.

Naturally, sandwiched between enslavement and mass incarceration exhibits,

The museum also has an array of material on lynching.

This included a giant mural of jars surrounded by videos, infographic murals, maps and

An interactive register of every known lynching by county, date, state, and name.

I’m still stuck on the mural of snapshots of actual lynching advertisements, and

Pictures of actual news reports of victims’ final words.

These were the actual final words of folks etched forever in these hanging, rusty pillars.

Ostensibly, written by war correspondents.

Standing in awe of the museum’s wall of jars, I chatted with a tall Black man about my age.

He’d traveled here from a neighboring state with his teen son to, as he said,

“See how this stuff we go through today ain’t new.”

I recounted to him what a young man at the EJI memorial had showed me a few years ago:

A man’s name who’d been lynched early last century for selling loose cigarettes –

Just like Eric Garner!

Yet, even since then,

We’ve gotten the police murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor,

Or even Michael Brown, Walter Scott and Philando Castile.

Amadou Diallo was shot 19 times in 1999, standing on his own stoop

And while Jayland Walker got 46 bullets this year while fleeing on foot.

Tamir Rice!

Tamir Rice was a little boy.

A little boy playing in the park. But his mere presence terrified a white man.

So he called 9-1-1 and the police showed up and shot Tamir within seconds!

We can watch the tape.

All of these martyrs are included in the museum’s growing timelines (sigh).

After their own legal work in representing the wrongfully imprisoned for damn near life,

EJI began collecting jars of dirt near every known lynching, and

If invited by local officials, EJI would offer a memorial plaque and ceremony commemorating that community’s recognition of historic injustice(s).

An open field sits next to the suspended pillars, filled with a duplicate of each pillar.

These duplicates sit, having yet to be collected and properly dedicated by each county.

These communities are denied healing, and we know wounds fester.

The field of lame duplicates effectively memorializes the festering denial in our body politic.

There are far too many unrecorded victims and versions of white mob violence, and intimidation, not just barbarous torture and heinous murder.

Outside of these few sorts of memorials,

We do have to wonder how else this rich history has stayed in our collective memories.

Too many Black families were too traumatized to talk and didn’t want to pass it to their kids.

We know many fled after any minor incursion,

Just as someone had advised Emmet Till to do,

And there’s no accounting for them and the victims’ families who fled and

Even hid or discarded any news clippings they’d seen of the events.

Yet, whites must have kept record.

Did whites collect the newspaper ads or reports of a lynching they’d attended or hoped to?

They made and sold lynching postcards, curios, and other odd lynching souvenirs.

Where are the avid collectors?

Plus, apparently, terrorists don’t just kidnap and hang someone to death,

So what did they do with all the ears, noses, fingers, and genitals they cut off?

Or eyes they plucked out?

Or scalps they shaved?

Many victims pass out from the immense pain of being tortured and burned alive, but still

I doubt all those pieces and parts got thrown in the fire, because, of course,

Plenty of pictures show entire white families there to celebrate the lynching like (a) V-day.

And in many ways, it was, and

The whites looked as if they would’ve wanted to remember.

Looks can be deceiving, but the ways whites were also bullied into compliance is real.

Still, my mother swears that some white families’ heirlooms must include

Prized, preserved pieces of Nat Turner.

Ooh, wouldn’t that be a treasure that would be.

Plus, given the spate and state of anti-Black policing and violence,

Our democracy, nay, our Constitution itself, is as rusty as these pillars.

The pillars resting in the field remind us not only the work left to do, but also, it’s urgency.

How many more pillars may we still need?

How many amendments did will freedom take?

It goes to show how great thou art now!

See: Slave Ads at the EJI Museum

A Punky Reggae Party

A photo booth on Oxford Street, London (summer 1977)

In June 1977, 45 years ago, I saw the Queen, albeit fleetingly, being driven past Piccadilly Circus en-route to Buckingham Palace for the culmination of the Silver Jubilee celebrations. I wasn’t there for the party. I was making my way to Camden Town and the rehearsal studios used by the Punk-inspired band Subway Sect, who my friend from school had joined as their drummer. The studio, part of a crumbling yard of railway buildings, some still bombed out from the War, would soon begin its transformation into trendy Camden Market. 

Punk shared an interesting crossover with Black music culture, in particular reggae. As teenagers, most of us growing up in the 70s were familiar with Blues and Tamala Motown, but reggae was new to me, especially the Heavy Dub style popular in the Jamaican community. The man largely responsible for my education was Don Letts, the House DJ at The Roxy in Neil St, Covent Garden. Originally a fruit and veg warehouse, between 1976 and 1978 the Club shot to fame/notoriety as the top Punk venue in London. The problem for the promoters was that in 1977 the scene was so embryonic there were as yet no home-grown punk records to play.  So, in the gaps between live bands, Don played what he wanted, namely reggae, which went down well with the mostly white crowd. To quote from his website: “he came to notoriety in the late 70s as the DJ that single handedly turned a whole generation of punks onto reggae”. In fact, the combination became so popular that Bob Marley’s Punky-Reggae Party released in 1977 as a 12 inch (Jamaica only) and as the B-side to Jamming, reached number 9 in the UK singles charts. Don’s choice of tracks from his Roxy days are captured in the critically acclaimed compilation Dread Meets The Punk Rockers Uptown (Heavenly Records).

Scroll forward a couple of years and I’m working as assistant van driver to my boss Morris, a Jamaican-born reggae fan. He was involved in the local music scene and sometimes I would help him set up a Sound System for private house parties, in and around Brixton.  We would use the work van, a sackable offence given the prestige brand name of our West End employer, but worth the risk. Think Small Axe: Lovers Rock, but with more sound gear and ganja-smoking Rastas, and you’ve got the picture.  While sometimes out of my comfort zone, it was uplifting to witness first-hand a community at one with its own identity while lobbying for change in wider society that remained indifferent at best.

It was also a time in London when the Metropolitan Police stop and search “SUS” law reigned high. I witnessed several occasions where Morris was subject to blatant racial harassment.  Once I was on a delivery to an exclusive residential part of Town. On these visits we played a game, coined by Morris, as Dropsy or Tipsy – would we be offered a Dropsy (cup of tea/coffee) or a cash tip for the delivery, typically a sofa or expensive Persian rug? The winner was the one who made the right call in advance. We parked in the street and as we got out several police officers on foot suddenly approached Morris and demanded to know what he was doing, despite the rather obvious fact he was at work. When they saw me, the situation cooled off, but the aggressive tone of the questioning was clear and present intimidation of a black man, whose only ‘offence’, while going about his legitimate business, was to be in a white, rich area. I wish I could say this was a one-off. Unfortunately, we all know that’s not the case. Another time relates to the shocking mistreatment he got crossing a picket line. The work van was kept in a British Road Services Depot at Elephant and Castle. We both turned up on the day a lightning strike had been called by the Transport and General Workers Union. I understand emotions can run high in these situations, but there was no excuse for the barrage of racial abuse he took from sections of the crowd. He brushed it off with characteristic good humour, but the episode tainted my view of trade unions ever since.

As this is a criminology blog I should probably throw in an example of real-life criminality. It happened mid-morning one Friday following a drop-off in busy Bishopsgate. Returning to the van I noticed a castor wheel on the pavement. “Looks like it’s come from one of our sofas” I remarked. It had. When we pulled back the shutter, the van was empty. Everything we’d loaded up an hour ago was gone. Sofas, walnut dressers, rugs, porcelain table lamps, all cleaned out. The castor was all that was left! Robbed in broad daylight, next to a bus stop. In panicked disbelief we asked those in the queue if they’d seen anything but we were wasting our breath. It was left to Mr Farooqui, the long-suffering Despatch floor manager, to take the heat from angry customers as he rang round to tell them the good news. Needless to say, management weren’t impressed and dished out first and final written warnings. Soon after we went our separate ways.

Meanwhile, the overlap between black and white youth culture in London was being fostered in creative ways. Rock Against Racism (RAR), founded in 1976 along with the Anti-Nazi League (ANL), a year later, were both set up to combat a surge in far-right extremism. Music, especially the cross-over between various genres including punk and reggae, was an important enabler in that it found common ground from which more overtly political discussions could take place.  I was one of the many thousands who, in April 1978, joined The Clash, Steele Pulse and others at Victoria Park, Hackney, in what was RAR’s finest hour. Also in the audience that day was Gerry Gable, the veteran anti-fascist campaigner and founder of Searchlight magazine, whose archive is hosted here at the University. I spoke to Gerry about this and he has very fond memories of the day and his role in helping it come about through his associations with both RAR and the ANL.

So, in the year of the Platinum Jubilee, has popular music culture continued as a positive force for race integration since the punky-reggae days of 77?  It’s probably a PhD project or two (dozen), but Bob Marley sums it up for me nicely:

What did you say?
Rejected by society
Treated with impunity
Protected by my dignity
I search for reality

If by the search for reality we mean certainty, then how certain are we things have changed for the better? My experience is that, on average, they have, and that music has played its precious role in bring people closer together. The key here is “on average”. If by reality we mean a search for legitimacy, there is evidence to the contrary. Differences of course remain, and there is no room for complacency. The one pledge we must agree on though is to never stop searching – for melody, for rhythm, for harmony.