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For Tyre’s last Five badges. (spoken word)
The badges you wear were betrayed the very instant you flashed your sights on me.
You had nothing good in mind from the start.
I was doomed from the beginning.
By the time the brutality started,
The senselessness of it all kept my body numb to the assault.
“What did I do,” I keep asking, as
Your brutal blows, strongholds and punches bend my body into painful pretzels.
While y’all’ve got me firmly pressed against the pavement, y’all yell:
“Get on the ground.”
Pressed on the ground, I say disarmingly:
“You guys are really doing a lot right now.”
My calmness stands out against all your unwavering aggressions.
Yet, you continue to play the same game: “Get on the ground.”
Beneath the ground there is only hell, and yet
My face pressed against the gravel by your hooves feels like hell, right here, right now.
‘Watching the world wake up from history.’
As if wielding your fists and batons, tasers and bullets don’t threaten me enough,
There are five of you, and
Each of you is massive.
Each of you …highly trained, experienced, and tremendously pumped up.
I am a little weasel sized up against any one of you, and
You are a mob of five.
Too weak to lift my own self, two officers hoisted me up by my limp arms, blood streaming from my head and outta ev’ry orifice, voice too weak to shout. I’m beaten badly, and yet you continue to brutalise me.
Manhandled.
I stumble up, firmly in your grasp, and all I do is plead, which gave enough time for another officer to grab a baton.
He quickly came back with the baton, screaming “give us your hands,” while the two officers still restrained me by these very same hands.
You continually scream “Stop resisting,” while
At least two if not three of you all strangling some part of my body.
The agony is immense.
You’re a pack on the hunt.
You chase me down, and
Torture and kick me more feverishly for running away.
I am in a battle for my life, you…
You are in a battle for your manhood.
“Bruh, you say, and words like these are the same words used to connect us to one another.
The words you use to abuse me could be endearing in another context.
Yet you have the nerve to call me “bruh,” and beat your brother to death.
‘I was alive and I waited, waited’
Waited for your humanity to show up,
Waited for justice to be served to me equally.
‘I was alive and I waited, waited,’ waited three days in the hospital…and
Neither justice nor your humanity ever showed up.

The Importance of Lived Experience in Making Change

***There is a content warning for this post as it briefly mentions self-harm***
I am a mature student entering the 3rd year of my degree, joint honours psychology and criminology. My choice in academic study (and hopeful career path) is largely informed by my own life experiences which have and will continue to be one of my biggest strengths. I have been in mental health services as a patient since my pre-teens and I have worked in a variety of mental health settings including inpatient forensic mental health and rehabilitation. My criminological interest was piqued after being a victim to violent crimes as an adult. All of this, as well as some conversations I have had with lecturers and peers over the last 2 years, has me thinking about the influence and importance of lived experiences in our academic and career choices, and the opportunities that lived experiences create for making change and battling adversity.
When we experience anything in life, big or small, positive or negative, we can gain incredible insight about ourselves and the world around us in a way that we would never have done if we didn’t have those experiences. It can change or set the trajectory of our lives. When we are in the correct place in our lives, our recovery, our minds to be able to pour from a cup that isn’t empty, we can find ourselves in an amazing place where we can help others and inspire change for those who have experienced or are likely to experience what we have. Perhaps even the ones who never have and never will. All equally as important.
Every system, service, or organisation needs to have the input from those who have experienced it from the other side. We need to know how the work is being perceived at the other end. It can be really difficult to collate feedback, especially the positive stuff, or see end-to-end results and we find that if no-one speaks up, what will be done is the easy thing, the cheap thing, or the well-intentioned but mismatched thing. Of course, we may be able to go beyond advice and become a part of a service or a voice ourselves and ‘be the change.’ We can inspire change by instilling more trust in others that we truly understand their predicament and that we have moved or are moving through it, showing them that it is possible or that they’re not alone. It can be refreshing and a huge learning experience for others in the service, as a user or provider, who may be stuck, going through the motions unequipped with knowledge of how to make change for the better, especially in sectors that can be particularly challenging day-to-day.
If I may give a personal example from when I worked on a psychiatric ward for forensic rehabilitation. I worked with many patients who felt as though it was staff vs patients, that we couldn’t possibly know what it was like for them, that we were only there because we were paid, and because they were detained against their will, we had to keep them there. I didn’t hide my personal experiences, my real reasons for being there, but no one really asked so I didn’t shout about them either. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, for reasons of infection control, I had no choice but to obey a rule, ‘‘bare-below-the-elbow.’’ That meant I had to wear short sleeves on the ward. It meant revealing to my patients the scars I bear from self-harm. This prompted lots of questions, some less awkward than others, but it opened up so many wonderful conversations and breakthroughs. I spoke with my patients about knowing how that feels, that I’ve been on the medication they’re struggling with, and I’ve done the therapy they’re reluctant to try. It connected me to my patients and my work in such a wonderful way and meant my patients trusted me more, trusted the process more and engaged in ways they haven’t before. It meant that when decisions were made about patient care or ward processes, I could advocate from a place of empathy and understanding and in cases where people have their rights reduced or taken away, detained against their will, are vulnerable, are disadvantaged, we can’t do it enough.
Being loud about our experiences means raising awareness, breaking down stigma and stereotypes to create more inclusive and accepting societies, building supportive communities, and helping people along their path. It can serve as inspiration for people who may never have even given a thought to their experiences, things they witness or people who experience hardship and keep it under wraps.
Perhaps this even serves as a little nudge to be open to the experiences of others, to recognise and challenge your own biases, the things you may or may not understand. If you find yourself in a position to decide who to hire, interact with, which project to run; find the lived experience, consider the people who just need a little more support and feel like a little risk, because you never know what it could do. We can apply this to healthcare, criminology, charity, or anything that feels like it is our calling.
It can be such a tough and slow process, it won’t always be welcomed, it might not always work out. There may be people, services and societal norms or stigma that have an agenda or goals that don’t align with yours, not everybody likes change or will be willing to put in the effort. We may not always get the answers we are looking for because of the complex world we live in. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right?
Can Barbie ever be Feminist?

Barbie certainly has people talking, the commentary surrounding the film takes a variety of angles. A quick google search shows that Barbie’s ironic take on the patriarchy appears to have ruffled the fragility feathers with some viewers describing it as ‘man-hating’. I could not help but chuckle at a YouTube video titled; Barbie Bombs Innocent Families with Feminist Propaganda…because apparently, equality is such a bad idea.
There have been some superficial and tokenistic attempts to ‘diversify’ the brand. Yet, at its core the imagery of Barbie still appears to be an obvious symbol of oppressive white feminism. The Barbie doll could be seen to project the white feminine beauty ideal, and the main character within the film, Margot Robbie, appears to embody this ideal. I.e., the appearance of a white, cis-gender, heterosexual women with the wealth to be able to afford all sorts of powdery pink capitalist goods and a body type which is impossible to achieve.
In the contemporary era this ideal continues to be damaging. Even for the most privileged of women, it promotes the spending of much more of women’s income than men on items such as beauty, food and lifestyles, and encourages restrictive dieting practices, which can be damaging to physical and mental health (Naomi Wolf, 1990). For marginalised women there is damage caused due to living in a world which promotes the white privileged as normative. Some examples include, the advertising and selling of skin bleaching products to achieve this white or ‘light’ beauty ideal, to schools excluding Black and Brown school children for having afro textured hair (Emma Dabiri, 2019 and Ibram X. Kendi, 2019).
Whilst the Barbie film apparently has a dig at capitalism, the film and the merchandise sold will produce huge profits by selling this particular brand of feminism. So those interested can buy into feminism and make the capitalists happy rather than being political or radical.
Apparently, the film depicts a comedic take on the patriarchy, with Ken’s toxicity and Barbie having to deal with microaggressions when entering the ‘real world’. How far does the film go with illustrating patriarchal oppression? Is the intersectional oppression experienced by the most marginalised of women present? Does Barbie and Co have issues with femicide, police brutality, poverty, mental ill health, rape, incarceration, immigration detention, homelessness or drowning whilst in a boat whilst trying to seek refuge? Or is the patriarchy in film only palatable and profitable if it presents itself in the form of privileged women experiencing comedic microagressions?
Maybe Barbie will lead to some (probably white and privileged) people thinking more critically or feeling empowered but it doesn’t seem to be a type of feminism ‘for all people’, so perhaps it’s not feminism at all (bell hooks, 1982).
I wonder what will happen to the profits made from the film…
Note* I have not watched the Barbie film so apologies for the vague analysis and sketchy details*
References:
Dabiri, Emma. (2020) Don’t touch my hair. United Kingdom: Penguin Books.
hooks, bell. (1982) Ain’t I a Woman : Black women and feminism. London: Pluto.
Kendi, Ibram. X. (2019) How to be an antiracist. London: The Bodley Head.
Wolf, Naomi. (1991) The Beauty Myth : How images of beauty are used against women. New York: William Morrow and Company.
The True Crime Genre and Me

I have always enjoyed the true crime genre, I enjoyed the who dunnit aspect that the genre feeds into, I also enjoyed “learning” about these crimes, and why people committed them. I grew up with an avid interest in homicide, and the genre as a result. So, studying criminology felt like it was the best path for me. Throughout the three years, this interest has stayed with me, resulting in me writing my dissertation on how the true crime genre presents homicide cases, and how this presentation influences people’s engagement with the genre and homicides in general.
With this being my main interest within the field of criminology, it was natural that True Crime and Other Fictions (CRI1006) module in first year caught my attention. This module showed me that my interest can be applied to the wider study of criminology, and that the genre does extend into different areas of media and has been around for many years. Although this module only lasted the year, and not many other modules- at least of the ones that I took- allowed me to continue exploring this area, the other modules taught me the skills I would need to explore the true crime genre by myself. Something- in hindsight- I much prefer.
I continued to engage with the wider true crime genre in a different way than I did before studying criminology- using the new skills I had learnt. Watching inaccurate and insensitive true crime dramas on Netflix, watching YouTubers doing their makeup whilst talking about the torture of a young girl, podcasts about a tragic loss a family suffered intercut with cheery adverts. This acts as a small snapshot of what the genre is really like, whereas when I originally engaged with it, it was simple retellings of a range of cases, each portrayed in slightly different ways- but each as entertaining as the next. To me, I think this is where the genre begins to fall apart, when the creators see what they are producing as entertainment, with characters, rather than retellings of real-life events, that affects real people.
Having spent so much time engaging with the genre and having the skills and outlook that comes with studying criminology, you can’t help but to be critical of the genre, and what you are watching. You begin to look at the reasoning behind why the creators of this content choose to present it in such ways, why they skip out on key pieces of information. It all makes a bit more sense. Its just entertainment. A sensationalist retelling of tragic events.
Although studying criminology may have ruined how I enjoy my favourite genre of media, it also taught me so many skills, and allowed me to develop my understating in an area I’ve always been interested in. These skills can be applied in any area, and I think that is the biggest take away from my degree. Considering I now work as the Vice President of Welfare at the Students Union– and getting some odd looks when I say what my degree was- I have no regrets. Even if I walk away from my time at university and never use the knowledge I gained from my studies, I can walk away and know that my time was not wasted, as the skills I have learnt can be applied to whatever I do moving forward.
Tyre Nichols’ last bird’s eye view.
[Spoken Word/Read aloud]

After my death, the New York Times reported that you all gave me “at least 71 commands.”
“Many were contradictory or impossible,” the Times tweeted.
In a mob frenzy throughout the whole ordeal, y’all kept shouting at me over each other.
When I couldn’t comply – and even when I did manage to obey– you…(SMH)
“Responded with escalating force.”
Hmph!
NYT’s tweet is cleverly crafted, with a photo – a bird’s eye view of us from the street camera.
There we see 4 of you hunched down on me, pressing my whole body against the ground.
The 5th thug is lunging toward me with a weapon.
After my death, I wonder how y’all will explain this footage –
Knowing the nature of these viral tweets?
I’ve personally reposted too many posts of Black bodies in my exact position to count.
I know I didn’t have to do anything to get here,
Knowing this brings me no comfort in this moment.
All of your commands ignore my humanity.
I am powerless and yet you persist.
In the many video angles of your fatal attack, we all see that…
Each of you had so many chances to just stop!
I’ve always tried to make sense of such lethal violence.
I try to understand the who, what and why of your attack that led to my death.
You had me pinned and pressed to the ground when you kept barking:
“Get on the ground.”
When you kept yelling, one after the other, “Give me your hands,”
Two or three of you were already bending my arms backward and forward with force.
I contort myself and try to comply, yet
You keep screaming “Stop resisting,” meanwhile,
At the same time, two or three of you are manhandling some part of me, at all times.
At the end when you leaned my beaten-up, bleeding, limp body against your car,
One of you snaps-n-shares pictures of me with colleagues and friends.
He’s proud and reaching out to folks who’ll pat him on the back for his latest accomplishment.
During the whole attack, I notice this is the only time he’s cool. He smiles.
He’s clearly used to this exact same rush, this exact same thrill.
I’m more disappointed than angered by his grin.
Mine is an all-American honor killing –
Most just get shot, but many have been tortured just like me.
We see this is how too many of his brethren defend their shield.
Where was I to go?
Appeal to the other officers on the scene whose negligence is pristine?
I tried to run, you captured me, which provoked more torture; nowhere feels safe.
Why was I being terrorized?
And by you, who’ve pledged to protect us from (this) terrorism and (this) thug behavior.
What was I to do?
Flight, freeze or fight.
I am tiny compared to any one of you, y’alls combat training and y’alls five big bodies built-up for battle.
I am a fly; you act like lords.
“Bruh,” you call me, but there is no evidence of brotherliness here.
Or, does your fraternity honor and practice such sadomasochistic rituals?
I like skateboarding and photography, another magazine writes, trying to digest my senseless murder.
Yet the videos of me captured for the world to see are
“…absent all beauty and sterilized of hope.”
When would this end?
Would I have to die for you to stop.
How had I possibly provoked this attack?
Who was I to obey?
You? You’re no good, like Linda Ronstadt said:
You’re no good. You’re no good. Baby, you’re no gooooooood…..
You’re no good.
Or perhaps good in your god’s eyes?
Or, are you God?
No.
You’re not anybody’s God, but…
You play one out here on these streets.
Now, you’re playing my God… my life is keenly in your fists.
Yes! These unceasing murders that I’ve seen – not just mine now–
Is what makes this place hell on Earth in the here and now.
So perhaps y’all’re just agents of the devil,
A force unleashed from the depths upon these streets.
“Momma,” I cry out as loud as I can, and you continue to holler obscenities at me.
Momma used to say all people are fundamentally good,
But lately, I’ve felt fundamentally unsure, and now I’m convinced.
“I didn’t do anything,” I plea, rolling on the ground with my hands behind my back.
Y’all kick me.
“Mom,” I cry out again.
I will die here alone.
No mother should lose her child like this.
The agony inside now, as I call out to my momma, is not for her help,
But because I can already feel her pain once she hears how I’m dying.
Since momma fought for the public release of the videos of my attack,
My name is a hashtag and we have been written about a plenty.
“Every Black mother knows she is a split second,” one newspaper writes,
“… a quirk of chance, from joining a lineage of suffering that stretches back through Mamie Elizabeth Till-Mobley…”
When she saw y’all in court for my kidnapping, assault, oppression, and murder,
Momma said you didn’t even have the courage to look her in the face.
Cowards.
Momma said you’re gonna see her each time you are called to see the judge.
-END-
Photo:
NPR OBITUARIES: “Tyre Nichols loved skateboarding. That’s how his friends say they’ll remember him.”
The Problem is Bigger than Tate

While there are many things that have got under my skin lately, it seems that every time I go on social media, turn on the television, or happen to have a conversation, the name Andrew Tate is uttered. His mere existence is like a virus, attacking not only my brain and soul but it seems a large population of the world. His popularity stems from his platform followed by thousands of men and young boys (it’s known as the ‘Real World’).
His platform ‘educating’ men on working smarter not harder has created a ‘brotherhood’ within the manosphere that celebrates success and wealth. Tate is framed as a man’s man, physically strong, rich and he even has a cigar attached to his hand (I wonder if he puts it down when he goes to the bathroom). It seems many of his aspiring followers want to mimic his fast rich lifestyle.
This seems to be welcomed, especially now when the price of bread has significantly risen (many of his followers would sell the closest women in their life for a whiff of his cigar, and of course to be deemed to have an Insta-desirable lifestyle). While this ideology has gained hype and mass traction in recent years (under the Tate trademark) it seems that his narcissistic, problematic image and what he stands for has only just been deemed a problem … due to his recent indiscretions.
There is now outrage in UK schools over the number of young boys following Tate and his misogynistic ideology. But I cannot help but ask … why was this not an issue before? I am aware of rape culture, victim blaming, sexual harassment, and systems of silence at every level of the UK education establishment. The launch of ‘Everyone’s Invited’ shone a light on the problematic discourse, so why are we only seeing that there is a problem now?
There are many reasons why there’s a delayed outrage, and I would be here all day highlighting all the problems. So, I will give you a couple of reasons. The first is the Guyland ideology: many Tate supporters who fall into the cultural assumption of masculinity expect to be rewarded for their support, in ways of power and material possession (this includes power over women and others deemed less powerful). If one does not receive what they believe they are owed or expected, they will take what they believe they are owed (by all means necessary).
There is also a system of silence within their peer group which is reinforced by parents, female friends, the media, and those that are in administrative power. The protection of toxic behavior has been continuously put under the umbrella of ‘boys will be boys’ or the idea that the toxic behavior is outside the character of the individual or not reflective of who they truly are.
I will go one step further and apply this to the internalised patriarchy/misogyny of the many women that came out and supported Jeremy Clarkson when he callously attacked Meghan. While many of the women have their individual blight with Meghan for reasons I do not really care to explore, by supporting the rhetoric spewed by Clarkson, they are upholding systemic violence against women.
The third point is that capitalism overthrows humanity and empathy in many ways. All you need to do is to look at a history books, it seems that lessons will never be learned. The temptation of material possessions has overthrown morality. The media gives Tate a platform and in turn Tate utters damaging ideology. This brings more traffic to the platforms that he is on and thus more money and influence….after all he is one of the most googled people in the world.
The awareness of the problematic behaviour and the total disregard for protecting women and girls from monsters like Tate shows, how the outrage displayed by the media about harms against victims such as Sabina Nessa and Sarah Everard is performative. The news coverage and the discussion that centred on the victimisation of these two women have easily been forgotten. If the outrage is real then why are we still at a point where we are accepting excuses and championing misogyny under the guise of freedom of speech, without challenging the harm it really does.
It seems that society is at a point of total desensitization where there is more interest in Tate losing an argument with Greta Thunberg, posing with a cigar on an exotic beach for likes, than really acknowledging the bigger picture. Andrew Tate has been accused of rape and human trafficking. The worst thing is, this is not the first time that he has been accused of horrific crimes – and with the audio evidence that was released to the press recently, he should be in prison. But with the issues that permeate the Met police there is no surprise as to why he has been given the green light to continue his violent behaviour. But this is not just a UK issue. There has been a large amount of support overseas with young men and boys marching in masses in support of Tate, so I cannot be surprised that he was able to and continues to build a platform that celebrates and promotes horrendous treatment of women.
For many the progression of a fair and equal society is an aspiration, but for the supporters of the Tate’s in the world they tend to lean on the notion that they are entitled to more, and to acquire what they think they are owed, and will behave to the extreme of toxicity. While it is easy to fixate on a pantomimic villain like Tate to discuss his problematic use of language and how this translates in schools, the bigger picture of institutionalised patriarchy is always being missed.
It is important to unpick the toxic nature of our society, to understand the contributing factors that have allowed Andrew Tate and others like him to be such influential figures.
The Color Purple, The Musical: What in the 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
The Origins of Criminology

The knife was raised for the first time, and it went down plunging into naked flesh; a spring of blood flowed cascading and covering all in red. The motion was repeated several times. Abel fell to his death and according to scriptures this was the first crime. Cain who wielded the knife roamed the earth until his demise. The fratricide that was committed was the first recorded murder and the very first crime. A colleague tried to be smart and pointed that the first crime is Eve’s violation in the garden with the apple, but I did point out that according to Helena Kennedy QC, she was framed! In the least Eve’s was a case of entrapment which is criminological but leaves the first crime vacant. So, murder it is! A crime of violence that separates aggressor and victim.
The response to this crime is retribution. In the scriptures a condemnation to insanity. In later years this crime formed the basis of the Mosaic Law inclusive of the 10 commandments and death as the indicative punishment. In the Ancien Régime the punishment became a spectacle on deterrence whilst the crowds denounced the evildoer as they were wheeled into the square! In modern times this criminality incorporated rehabilitation to offer the opportunity for the criminal to repent and make amends.
‘The first man who having enclosed a piece of ground bethought himself of saying “This is mine”’! This is an alternative interpretation of the first crime, according to Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1762/1993: 192). In The Social Contract he identifies the first crime very differently from the scriptures. In this case the crime is not directed at a person but the wider community. The usurping of land or good in any manner that violates the rights of others is crime because it places individualism ahead of the common good. As in this crime there is no violence against the person, the way in which we respond to it is different. Imperialism as a historical mechanism accepts the infringement of property, rights, and human rights as a necessity in human interactions. The law here is primarily protected for the one who claims the land rather than those who have been left homeless. In this case, crime is associated with all those mechanisms that protect privilege and property. Soon after titles of land emerged and thereafter titles of people owning other people follow. The land becomes an empire, and the empire allows a man and his regime to set the laws to protect him and his interests. Traditionally empires change from territories of land to centres of government and control of people. The land of the English, the land of the Finnish, the land of the Zulu. In this instance the King become a figure and custom law subverts natural law to accommodate authority and power.
These two “original” crimes represent the diversity in which criminology can be seen; one end is the interpersonal psychological rendition of criminality based on the brutality of violence whilst on the other end is an exploration of wider structural issues and the institutional violence they incorporate. The spectrum of variety criminology offers is a curse and a blessing in one. From one end, it makes the discipline difficult to specify, but it also allows colleagues to explore so many different issues. Regardless of the type of crime category for any person attracted to the discipline there is a criminology for all.
Between these two polar apart approaches, it is interesting to note their interaction. In that it can be seen the interaction of the social and historical priorities of crime given at any given time. This historical positivism of identifying milestones of progression is an important source of understanding the evolution of social progression and movements. Let’s face it, crime is a social construct and as such regardless of the perspective is indicative of the way society prioritises perceptions of deviance.
Arguably the crimes described previously denote different schools of thought and of course the many different perspectives of criminology. A perfectly contorted discipline that not only adapts following the evolution of crime but also theorises criminality in our society. When you are asked to describe criminology, numerous associations come to mind, “the study of crime and criminality” the “discipline of criminal behaviours” “the social construction of crime” “the historical and philosophical understanding of crime in society across time” “the representation of criminals, victims, and agents in society”. These are just a few ways to explain criminology. In this entry we explore the origins of two perspectives; theology and sociology; image that the discipline is influenced by many other perspectives; so consider their “origin” story. How different the first crime can be from say a psychological or a biological perspective. The origins of criminology is an ongoing tale of fascinating specialisms.
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, (1762/1993), The Social Contract and Discourses, tr. from the French by G.D.H. Cole, (London: Everyman’s Library)



