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A Love Letter: in praise of board games

This my fifth love letter, previously I have written in praise of poetry, art, Agatha Christie and the Thoughts from the Criminology Team blog. Since early childhood, I have loved playing games and today’s entry is dedicated to this form of media. In the early years, the focus on fun is paramount, after all who wants to play a dull game? Equally important, the educational aim of games is sometimes explicit, other times less so. Nevertheless, they help us learn to match and sort colours and shapes, to develop our counting skills in an applied setting and improve our memory recall, as well as spelling. Games likes Snap, Happy Families, Hungry Hippos, Snakes and Ladders, Guess Who, Junior Scrabble offer a variety of different ways for children to learn important skills whilst playing. These games enable even very small children to share space, develop important interpersonal skills like taking turns and learn to deal with winning, and of course, losing. Often the latter is a very slow and painful lesson to learn….and one that isn’t always remembered into adulthood!

Of course, one of the most explicit part of playing games is learning the rules of the game, and of course, what happens when we deviate from those rules. It might lead to the loss of a turn or even forfeiture of the entire game. People interpret rules in different ways and families often develop their own “house” rules, but nevertheless there is always an agreed upon set of rules and a way of policing and punishing those who break them.

But once these lessons have been learned, what do games have to teach us as adults? I would say plenty! On a surface level, they offer an opportunity to relax and do something outside of our humdrum lives. Once the games have been purchased, they generally cost nothing to play unlike other forms of leisure time.1 Some can be played alone, others require competitors or even teams. They can aid our thinking, concentration and develop skills of strategy and tactics. They also have the general benefit of not being all consuming (unless at competition level), allowing for conversation to flow. The latter, conversing whilst doing something else, can often be useful for difficult emotional conversations, allowing people to open up without pressure (known colloquially as “health by stealth”).

But do board games have anything to offer to Criminology? Again, I would argue yes! Most games involve chance or luck, will you get the numbers you need, will you have the right pieces/cards in your hand, will the other person play their game in a way that benefits you? It is easy to recognise the role that luck or chance plays in games, but are we equally aware of their role in our lives. More importantly, as criminologists do we fully understand and acknowledge the role played by both in relation to criminality and victimisation?

We have no choice about whether we are born or not, when and where we arrive on the earth, who our parents are. These are all down to forces outside our individual and collective control. Our upbringing, our education, our employment opportunities are largely constrained by geography, money and influence. Compare the opportunities available to a baby born today in Sudan, with one born in the UK, another born in Palestine, and another born in Finland. Compare again, thinking about race, sex, class, disability, sexuality and so on. Very quickly you begin to understand the role played by chance and luck.

So if all of the above are imponderables, how much of a role does luck play in relation to criminality and victimisation? The regular publication of data relating to crime in postcodes, towns/cities and globally show huge diversity in the chance of victimisation. Lucky you, if you were born and live in the ‘Nordic countries of Europe (Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, and Finland) who rank among the 25 safest globally, most of them also being among the top 10 happiest nations worldwide’. Less fortunate, if you were born in Haiti, Ukraine, Palestine, Sudan or Iraq identified as some of the most dangerous places on earth currently. It is not very difficult to imagine the difference in opportunities in fundamental human rights; food, shelter, healthcare, education and so on. In war ridden nations it is incredibly difficult to separate different typologies of victimisation and for the individuals living under these conditions, it makes no meaningful difference who is/are the perpetrators.

Even if you are living in a “peaceful” state2 such as the UK, there are vast differences in the opportunities available. If you have money you can buy a car to get to work in your evening/night job, if you don’t, maybe you can take a bus, failing that you can walk. Each of those journeys carries its own risks. Your sex, your race, your ethnicity, your sexuality, your abilities/disabilities, your age add the aggravating/mitigating factors and see your risk increase/decrease. All a matter of chance and luck

What about criminality, is this, as the Classical School of Criminology would have us accept, a matter of free will, weighing up the pros and cons and making a deliberate and calculating choice to commit crime? Or can we also identify the same issues of luck and chance as shown above? If your family is loving, everyone has good health, housing is secure, food is plentiful and there are plenty of educational and employment opportunities in your area, would you still choose a life of crime? If there is violence at home, poverty impacts health, housing and regular meals, making it challenging to study or work, would you perceive crime to be a choice?

And what of those board game rules and consequences, real life has its own rules, some written in the forms of laws, others engrained via family, friends, institutions; the norms of our society. In the board game, these rules apply equally (aside from luck and chance) but in real life, not so much. Consider racial and ethnic disproportionality and the treatment of vulnerable women in the CJS, as just two examples. We may all be playing in the same “Game of Life”, but luck, chance and the rules we are subjected to are very different when it comes to criminality and victimisation.

  1. I appreciate that there are some very expensive board games out there, as well as expansion packs to enhance play. ↩︎
  2. There are lots of academic arguments around what constitutes a peaceful state, most agree that it more than just the absence of war. Whilst the UK has not seen active warfare on its shores for decades, its military has been involved in conflict throughout the world for more than a century. ↩︎

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.

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

A racist and no solution

Photo by King’s Church International on Unsplash

I am a white, middle class some might say (well my students anyway), ageing, male.  I wasn’t always middle class, I’m from working class stock. I’m a university lecturer now but wasn’t always. I spent 30 years in the police service in a small, ethnically diverse, county in England.  I didn’t consider myself a racist when I was in the police service and I don’t consider myself a racist now.  Nobody has called me a racist to my face, so why the title? It’s how I’m constantly labelled.  Every time someone says the police are racist or the police are institutionally racist, they are stating that about me. Just because I have left the police organisation doesn’t change who I am, my beliefs or my values.  So, if the police are racist, then by default, I must be.

I’m not suggesting that some police officers are not racist, of course some are. Nor am I denying that there has been and probably still is some form of institutional racism within the police service, perhaps as a whole or perhaps at a more localised or departmental level. But bad apples and poorly thought-out, naïve or even reckless policies, strategies and procedures are not enough to explain what is going on in policing and policing of ethnic minority groups in particular. I’m talking about policing in this country, not across the pond where policing is very different in so many ways that it is hard to even suggest a realistic comparison. That of course is the first problem, what happens in the United States of America is immediately translated into what happens here.

As a lecturer, I constantly hear from students and read students’ work about the racist and brutal police, often interchanging commentary from the United States with commentary here in the United Kingdom, whilst also failing to recognise that there is different policing in Scotland and Northern Ireland.  Institutional racism, as defined by Macpherson, is now part of the lexicon, but it no longer has the meaning Macpherson gave it, it is now just another way of saying the police are and every police officer is racist. Some students on finding out that I was a police officer show an instant dislike and distrust of me and sometimes it can take the whole three years to gain their trust, if at all.  Students have been known to request a different dissertation supervisor, despite the fact that their research subject is in policing.  This is not a complaint, just a statement of facts, painful as it is.

As I try to make sense of it all, I have so many unanswered questions. What is exactly going on? What is causing this conflict between the police and ethnic minority groups? Why is there a conflict, why is there distrust? More importantly, how can it be fixed? Some of the answers may lay in what the police are asked to do, or at least think they are asked to do. Reiner suggests that policing is about regulating social conflict, but which conflict and whose conflict is it? Other authors have suggested that the police are simply a means to allow the rich and privileged to maintain power. There may be some merit in the argument, but most policing seems to take place in areas of deprivation where the disadvantaged are committing crimes against the disadvantaged. The rich and powerful of course commit crimes but they are nowhere near as tangible or easy to deal with. One the problems might be that the rich and powerful are not particularly visible to policing but the disadvantaged are.

Maybe some of the answers lay in notions of stereotyping, sometimes even unconsciously. Experience or narratives of experiences cause a wariness, even a different stance to one people might normally assume. Being thumped on the nose by a drunk, does tend to make a person wary of the next drunk they encounter. So, could stereotyping be a problem on both sides of the divide? My dissertation student that didn’t want me as a supervisor was later to reveal experiences of racist abuse aimed at the police officers she went out on patrol with.  Policing is dominated by white males and despite recruitment drives to address the ethnicity gap, this really hasn’t been that successful.  If it was meant to help solve a problem, it hasn’t.

I get the sense though that the problem is much deeper routed than policing.  Policing and the problems of policing is just a sub plot in a much wider issue of a divided society and one that is in constant conflict with itself.  If the police are guilty of racism, then it is society that has caused this.  Our society’s values, our society’s beliefs. An unequal society where the poorest suffer the most and the rich get richer regardless.  A society where we are all equal but only because someone somewhere said so at some time, it is not reality.  I think of Merton’s ‘American Dream’, I don’t buy into the whole concept, but there is something about not having opportunities, equally when I think of Lea and Young and the concept of relative deprivation, whilst not explaining all crime, it has some merit in that notion that the disenfranchised have no voice. 

As I write this I am conscious that I have commentated on a very emotive subject particularly at this time.  As I watch the events unfold in America, I fear the worst, action followed by reaction. Both becoming increasingly violent and I see the possibility of it happening in this country. I fear that the term ‘police racism’ will become another convenient label.  Convenient in the sense that the problems are seen solely as that of policing. If we examine it through a different lens though, we might just find that policing is simply part of the whole rotten tree, society. Fix society and you fix policing. If the label racist fits, it fits the society we live in.  

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona on Unsplash

Black son of the south (A 2-part short story in prose). #BlackenAsiaWithLove

Pt. 1: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

As the sun rises, and over the horizon, I can see the first capital of the Confederacy, I am forced to remember that this is the south.

There’s country music blasting from the speakers in this restaurant, and the young woman serving me has such a twang, you’d think she’s about to sing…her own rendition of Achy Breaky Heart.

The waitress calls me ‘Sweetie’ though she’s clearly half my age.

I’d much rather be called ‘sweetie’ than sir, not that I’m ashamed of being middle-aged.

I appreciate coming back down south and feeling this cosy feeling from virtually everyone I meet. Plus she’s sincere, too. I can see that the staff here are mixed, and yet I have this burning feeling that there’s more here than meets the eye.

In this part of the country, we pride ourselves on our gentile ways.  For years I’ve wondered if this is just how we southerners learned to cope with an excessively violent past.

My grandparents fled from here in the 40’s, just after the war, so terrorized were they of establishing a life of dignity outside the cotton fields they plucked as kids. Now, there is a localised justice initiative to mark the numerous racial hate crimes known as lynching.

The initiative has an eerie collection of jars filled with actual soil from (known) lynching sites. There’s at least one of these large pickle jars full-o-dirt from every county in this state alone. You know it’s Bama, too; there’s so much of that familiar chalky, red clay that’s still all around us. Dirt so red, you now wonder if it’s ferrous or blood!

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Notoriously, lynching is NOT a practice of the antebellum south, for black labour was far too valuable to just maim, torture and burn up black bodies like what’s done in these heinous hate crimes then.

I know not every white person down here is a descendant of slave-holders, slave-drivers or slave-catchers. Many may have never owned a single slave, yet…

Yet, any white person down here benefits from white-skin-privilege. Even white immigrants have famously fallen into line, capitalising on the slave economy, commoditizing King Cotton in one way or another. Not only Stevie Wonder, but even Wikipedia can see that.

The Wiki history entry of the in-famous commodities firm Lehman Brothers’ opens dryly like this: “In 1844, 23-year-old Henry Lehman, the son of a Jewish cattle merchant, emigrated to the United States from RimparBavaria. He settled in Montgomery, Alabama, where he opened a dry-goods store…”

Henry’s brothers came over within a few years – legally, supposedly – and thus began the in-famous firm. The brothers quickly saw that the farmers were rich during harvest and broke when it came time to plant. The dry-goods store quickly began accepting raw cotton as a form of payment. They hoarded cotton when it was plentiful and cheap, selling it when stocks drew low; economics running counter-cyclical to farm life. Did it matter to the brothers that the cotton was produced by slaves?

The brothers opened their first branch in NYC in 1858. That’d be New Yawk ‘fore the Northern War of aggression, y’all. Their firm dug so deep into the commodities trading economy that the youngest Lehman brother’s son, Herbert, was eventually a senator, 4-time governor of New York, and among other accolades is quoted in the current US passports espousing the value of immigrants to the nation’s roots and success. Lehman Brothers’ 2008 bankruptcy has been called “the biggest corporate failure in history!”

Did you know there are entire regions of the United Kingdom that evolved on the back of King Kotton as a commodity? Manchester, “famed as the world’s first industrial city,” was nicknamed Cottonopolis. The Industrial Revolution was fuelled by slavery! Ironically, the liberation of one group of people depended upon the enslavement of another. His-story should tell both sides, else it’s a damn lie. Did you know those cotton mill workers were sent aid by the Union government when the Civil War curtailed these cheap exports?

But anyone down south was in one way or another entangled in the slave economy as much as all of us today can’t have a smartphone free of labour and land exploitation. The fact that I may never see a child mining tin in Indonesia, or set sights on bonded labourers toiling away for cobalt in the Congo, does not admonish me and my gadgetry from any responsibility to do better.

So, the pleasantries that we southerners find necessary are well-crafted ways of disarming one another from a past filled with mass artilleries in everyday life.

I am a Black son of the south.

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@ The Equal Justice Initiative

Free from these chains, I hasten to think what life was like for my grandparents. Armed with their southern draws, having actually grown up cultivating the region’s cash crops, what life could they possibly have imagined for themselves as adults there?

What I do know, however, and I’ve heard this from my own elders, is that while they couldn’t imagine a future there for themselves, they did dream of that vision for us.

And so, here I am living my life…somewhere. Over the rainbow.

The ‘other’ BBC worldservice. #BlackenAsianWithLove

The ‘other’ BBC worldservice.

If you google “BBC+Mandingo,” please be aware that it is NSFW. Use your imagination. Now, imagine an auction block. Imagine a slave standing there. Breeding slaves underpinned the ‘white supremacist, capitalist, patriarchal’ system that placed their bodies upon that auction block. Hyper-sexualisation of Black bodies began right there. It is bell hooks’ Intersectionality lens that’s necessary for a holistic gaze upon consumer commodification.

Now, imagine that one Black boy in class, vying for attention just as any other adolescent, yet he’s got an entire multitude of hyper-sexualised images filling the heads of virtually everyone in the room. By the time they hit the locker-room, everyone is expecting to see this kid’s BBC. I’ve had many (non-Black) adults say that to me explicitly, inexplicably in any given situation where one might not otherwise imagine penis size would surface so casually in conversation. Hence, we can all imagine that with the crudeness of adolescent male vernacular: Your kid is asking my kid why his penis isn’t what all the rappers rap about. we-real-cool-cover

Why are so many commercially successful rappers’ fantasies reduced to “patriarchal f*cking?” Reading Michael Kimmel’s essay “Fuel for Fantasy: The Ideological Construction of Male Lust,” in her seminal book We Real Cool: Black Masculinity, bell hooks clarifies: “In the iconography of black male sexuality, compulsive-obsessive fucking is represented as a form of power when in actuality it is an indication of extreme powerlessness” (hooks: 67-8).

It’s auto-asphyxiation, a kind of nihilistic sadomasochism that says, if the world thinks of me as a beast, then a beast I shall be. Plenty of kids work this out by the time they hit the playground. “Patriarchy, as manifest in hip-hop, is where we can have our version of power within this very oppressive society,”  explains writer/activist Kevin Powell (qtd. in hooks: 56). Ironically, Powell came to fame in the 90’s on MTV through the original reality show aptly entitled “The Real World.”

Plantation Politics 101

Since at least 2017, commercial rap has been the most widely sold musical genre; it’s pop. Beyond roughly 700,000 sales, Black people are not the primary purchasers of commercialised rap, as explained in the documentary Hip-Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes. It takes millions to earn ‘multi-platinum’ status. Yet, while created by and for Black and brown people in ghettoized communities, it has morphed into a transnational commodity having little to do with the realities of its originators, save for the S&M fantasies of wealth beyond imagination. And what do they boast of doing with that power, read as wealth? Liberating the masses from poverty? Intervening on the Prison Industrial Complex? Competing with the “nightmareracist landlords like Donald Trump’s dad Fred? No! They mimic the very gangsters they pretend to be. Once Italian-Americans held hard that stereotype, but now it’s us. It’s always about power. Truly, ‘it’s bigger than Hip-Hop’.

We-real-coolThe more painful question few bother asking is why commercial rap music focuses so keenly on pimps, thugs, b*tches and whores? Like other commodities, commercial rap is tailored to the primary consumer base, which isn’t (fellow) Black people, but white youth. What is it about contemporary white youth that craves images of salacious, monstrous, licentious and violent Black people boasting about killing and maiming one another? Describing this mass commercial “Misogynistic rap music,” hooks states: “It is the plantation economy, where black males labor in the field of gender and come out ready to defend their patriarchal manhood by all manner of violence against women and men whom they perceive to be weak and like women” (hooks: 57-8). Plainly, the root of commercial rap’s global prominence is the reenactment of “sadomasochistic rituals of domination, of power and play” (hooks: 65).

Hyper-sexualisation is a form of projection onto Black people a mass white anxiety about our shared “history of their brutal torture, rape, and enslavement of black bodies” (hooks: 63). She goes on to explain: “If white men had an unusual obsession with black male genitalia it was because they had to understand the sexual primitive, the demonic beast in their midst. And if during lynchings they touched burnt flesh, exposed private parts, and cut off bits and pieces of black male bodies, white folks saw this ritualistic sacrifice as in no way a commentary on their obsession with black bodies, naked flesh, sexuality” (ibid). Hence the BBC obsession finds a consumer home safely in pop music!

“I am ashamed of my small penis,” a stranger recently mentioned to me in a grilled wing joint I happened upon here in Hanoi. The confession came from nowhere, having nothing to do with anything happening between us at the time. Is this the locker-room banter I always hear about? Are straight men really so obsessed with their penises? Given his broken English and my non-existent Vietnamese, I tried comforting him by explaining in the simplest terms the saying: “It’s not the size of the wave but the motion of the ocean.” Colloquialisms never translate easily, but I did at least deflect the subject away from ethno-sexual myths spread worldwide through contemporary consumer culture.

We’ve got to talk about ethno-sexual myths with openness, honesty and integrity. Silence is the master’s tool; silence = death! Further, echoing ‘black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet’ Audre Lorde, ‘The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house”. I am Black in Asia, and there are perhaps no two groups of men at polar opposites of ethno-sexual myths. Like the hyper-sexualisation of women of colour, these myths reveal that neither Blackness nor Asianess is at the centre of these globally circulated myths. Hyper-sexual in comparison to who or what? Hegemonic heteronormative whiteness. Say it with me: Duh!

 

To get In-formation:

hooks, b. (2004) We Real Cool: Black Men and Masculinity. New York: Routledge.

Lorde, A. (1984) Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Berkeley: Crossing Press.

100% of the emotional labour, 0% of the emotional reward: #BlackenAsiawithLove

Last night over dinner and drinks, I spoke about race in the classroom with two white, upper-middle-class gay educators. Neither seemed (able) to make any discernable effort to understand any perspective outside their own. I had to do 100% of the emotional labour, and got 0% of the emotional reward. It was very sad how they went on the attack, using both passive and active aggression, yet had the nerve to dismiss my words as ‘victimhood discourse’. This is exactly why folks write books, articles, and blogs like ‘Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race’.

Worse, they both had experienced homophobia in the classroom, at the hands of both students and parents. Nonetheless, they had no ability to contribute to the emotional labour taking place as we spoke about race. Even worse, the one in charge of other educators had only 24 hours earlier performed the classic micro-aggression against me: The brown blur. He walked right past me at our initial meeting as I extended my hand introducing myself while mentioning the mutual friend who’d connected us because, as he said, he was “expecting” to see a white face. He was the one to raise that incident, yet literally threw his hands in the air, nodding his head dismissively as he refused any responsibility for the potential harm caused.

“I’m an adult,” I pled, explaining the difference between me facing those sorts of aggressions, versus the young people we all educate. This all fell on deaf ears. Even worse still, he’d only moments earlier asked me to help him understand why the only Black kid in one of his classes called himself a “real nigger.” Before that, he had asked me to comment on removing the N-word from historical texts used in the classroom, similar to the 2011 debate about erasing the N-word and “injun” from Huckleberry Finn, first published in 1884. According to the Guardian, nigger is “surely the most inflammatory word in the English language,” and “appears 219 times in Twain’s book.”

Again, he rejected my explanations as “victimhood.” He even kept boasting about his own colorblindness – a true red flag! Why ask if you cannot be bothered to listen to the answer, I thought bafflingly? Even worse, rather than simply stay silent – which would have been bad enough – the other educator literally said to him “This is why I don’t get involved in such discussions with him.” They accused me of making race an issue with my students, insisting that their own learning environments were free of racism, sexism and homophobia.

They effectively closed ranks. They asserted the privilege of NOT doing any of the emotional labour of deep listening. Neither seemed capable of demonstrating understanding for the (potential) harm done when they dismiss the experiences of others, particularly given our differing corporealities. I thought of the “Get Out” scene in the eponymously named film.

“Do you have any Black teachers on your staff,” I asked knowing the answer. OK, I might have said that sarcastically. Yet, it was clear that there were no Black adults in his life with whom he could pose such questions; he was essentially calling upon me to answer his litany of ‘race’ questions.

Armed with mindfulness, I was able to get them both to express how their own corporeality impacts their classroom work. For example, one of the educators had come out to his middle-school students when confronted by their snickers when discussing a gay character in a textbook. “You have to come out,” I said, whereas I walk in the classroom Black.” Further still, they both fell silent when I pointed out that unlike either of them, my hips swing like a pendulum when I walk into the classroom. Many LGBTQ+ people are not ‘straight-acting’ i.e. appear heteronormative, as did these two. They lacked self-awareness of their own privilege and didn’t have any tools to comprehend intersectionality; this discussion clearly placed them on the defense.

I say, 100% of the emotional labour and none of the emotional reward, yet this is actually untrue. I bear the fruits of my own mindfulness readings. I see that I suffer less in those instances than previously. I rest in the comfort that though understanding didn’t come in that moment, future dialogue is still possible. As bell hooks says on the first page in the first chapter of her groundbreaking book Killing Rage: Ending Racism: “…the vast majority of black folks who are subjected daily to forms of racial harassment have accepted this as one of the social conditions of our life in white supremacist patriarchy that we cannot change. This acceptance is a form of complicity.” I accept that it was my decision to talk to these white people about race.

I reminded myself that I had foreseen the micro-aggression that he had committed the previous day when we first met. A mutual friend had hooked us up online upon his visit to this city in which we now live. I doubted that she’d mentioned my blackness. Nonetheless, I had taken the chance of being the first to greet our guest, realizing that I am in a much safer space both in terms of my own mindfulness, as well as the privilege I had asserted in coming to live here in Hanoi; I came here precisely because I face such aggression so irregularly in Vietnam that these incidents genuinely stand out.

Works mentioned:

Eddo-Lodge, R. (2018). Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race. London: Bloomsbury Publishing.

Hanh, T. (2013). The Art of Communicating. New York: HarperOne.

hooks, b. (1995). Killing rage: Ending racism. New York: Henry Holt and Company, Inc.

 

A month of Black history through the eyes of a white, privileged man… an open letter

Dear friends,

Over the years, in my line of work, there was a conviction, that logic as the prevailing force allows us to see social situations around (im)passionately, impartially and fairly.  Principles most important especially for anyone who dwells in social sciences.  We were “raised” on the ideologies that promote inclusivity, justice and solidarity.  As a kid, I remember when we marched as a family against nuclear proliferation, and later as an adult I marched and protested for civil rights on the basis of sexuality, nationality and class.  I took part in anti-war marches and protested and took part in strikes when fees were introduced in higher education.    

All of these were based on one very strongly, deeply ingrained, view that whilst the world may be unfair, we can change it, rebel against injustices and make it better.  A romantic view/vision of the world that rests on a very basic principle “we are all human” and our humanity is the home of our unity and strength.  Take the environment for example, it is becoming obvious to most of us that this is a global issue that requires all of us to get involved.  The opt-out option may not be feasible if the environment becomes too hostile and decreases the habitable parts of the planet to an ever-growing population. 

As constant learners, according to Solon (Γηράσκω αεί διδασκόμενος)[1] it is important to introspect views such as those presented earlier and consider how successfully they are represented.  Recently I was fortunate to meet one of my former students (@wadzanain7) who came to visit and talk about their current job.  It is always welcome to see former students coming back, even more so when they come in a reflective mood at the same time as Black history month.  Every year, this is becoming a staple in my professional diary, as it is an opportunity to be educated in the history that was not spoken or taught at school. 

This year’s discussions and the former student’s reflections made it very clear to me that my idealism, however well intended, is part of an experience that is deeply steeped in white men’s privilege.  It made me question what an appropriate response to a continuous injustice is.  I was aware of the quote “all that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing” growing up, part of my family’s narrative of getting involved in the resistance, but am I true to its spirit?  To understand there is a problem but do nothing about it, means that ultimately you become part of the same problem you identify.  Perhaps in some regards a considered person is even worse because they see the problem, read the situation and can offer words of solace, but not discernible actions.  A light touch liberalism, that is nice and inclusive, but sits quietly observing history written in the way as before, follow the same social discourses, but does nothing to change the problems.  Suddenly it became clear how wrong I am.  A great need to offer a profound apology for my inaction and implicit collaboration to the harm caused. 

I was recently challenged in a discussion about whether people who do not have direct experience are entitled to a view.  Do those who experience racism voice it?  Of course, the answer is no; we can read it, stand against it, but if we have not experienced it, maybe, just maybe, we need to shut up and let other voices be heard and tell their stories.  Black history month is the time to walk a mile in another person’s shoes.

Sincerely yours

M



[1] A very rough translation: I learn, whilst I grow, life-long learning.

Your Name Is Not BAME

My name is Tré Ventour and I am the Students’ Union’s Vice President BME Sabbatical Officer. When I’ve asked students what BME stands for, most have been clueless – Black Minority Ethnic. The same could be said for BAME – Black Asian Minority Ethnic. I was elected to represent ethnic minority students. But I’ve been asking myself how much longer will this 47% be an ethnic minority? At Northampton, they will soon be the majority. This 14,000-student university in which nearly 7000 fit into this BME box.

Pigeon-holed. To be put into a box. I don’t like to think in boxes. I try not to think in labels but in this world, it’s naive to be colourblind. In the education sector, in this day and age, especially at Northampton, to not see race is to ignore the experiences of nearly 7,000 students – nearly 7,000 stories about potential hate crimes, and what about BAME members of staff? We must see race. We must see sex, class, and gender (all genders).

To be colourblind is to live life high on privilege – to exist without the consequences of hate crime. Some people live with racism, sexism and / or homophobia all their lives.

Many say “there’s one race, the human race.” That may be true but how comfortable must you be in your existence to come to that notion? And then push that notion on those who experience racism on a daily basis.

When I’ve spoken to students about BAME or ethnic minority, they say “Just call me by my name.” Students are flesh and bone, more than acronyms. And I do what they tell me to do (in a manner of speaking / within reason). I’m not Vice President, I’m not Mr Ventour; I am Tré and I am here to help students, to represent students (of colour) – more so Black students that look at White authority and see invader. Who I have heard compare university to apartheid South Africa – one in, one out – to a Zimbabwe under British rule – De Beers, Rhodes and racism. Fear and exclusion.

Call them minorities, call them BME, call them BAME. Yet, this acronym just seems like coded language for Black. And at Northampton, when people say BME or BAME, they mean Black students, so just say what you mean, “Black.”

And if these labels, if these pigeon-hole terms help Higher Education solve issues like attainment perhaps it’s worth it. But what I can say is that not all Black experiences are the same. To be a Black British student is not the same as to be a Black international from Africa, the EU or elsewhere.

But to be a person of colour in this country is to be immigrant, British or otherwise. To be overly polite. To be overly grateful or gracious. To be a good immigrant.