BLACK LIVES MATTER
Keiran Brown
Are you local? A question I’ve been asked so many times
in so many different ways. Where are you from? Where
are you actually from? But where are your family from?
And regardless of the answers I give, what people usually
want to know is ‘what kind of non-white person are you?’
My family are from St Lucia, Jamaica. From this point
the conversation often leads to ‘Oh I love reggae music’
and ‘Bob Marley is amazing!’ People suddenly begin to
assume that my tastes and distastes are defined by a
country my mother left when she was four years old and
one I’ve never been to. Truth be told my mum loves
Reggae, and as both a musician and a black individual
myself I value Bob Marley and his work, but I lean a lot
more towards modern-day western pop music. My
question here is, what do you mean where am I from?
Are you asking me because it’s relevant to the
conversation or do you need to know so that you can
bring into play your pre-dispositions, your falseperceptions
and fake facts on how people from specific
places in the world should talk, how they should act,
what they look like, what music they like, what food
they eat or even where they sit financially? If this is the
reason you’re asking, then I have to inform you that this
way of thinking is systemic racism. It’s racism at a base
level. The true fact is that you cannot wholly define who
a person is with the question ‘where are you from?'
Regardless of how you phrase it. Although you may not
realise it, this is just another form of racial profiling.
I’m a gay black man who was born in Jersey. I grew up
here, I went to school here, I have friends, blood relatives
and illogical family here. This is the place I work and a
place I’ve spent the better part of 23 years. I’m not a thief
and I’m not some gangster. And no, I can’t do a Jamaican
accent. I’m modest but I will also say I’m incredibly
intelligent and well-spoken. To be honest, I couldn’t see
myself any further removed from what anyone might
deem your stereotypical black man. So, the next time you
find yourself asking this question, ask yourself first, is it
relevant? Why do you want to know? If you truly believe
that this one question will somehow help you gain an
understanding or a full in-depth image of someone then
the question you really should be asking is ‘who are you?’
Abigail Atkinson
Today, the weight of the past bears heavily
on the present. My son with his bright
smile, soft bottom and doughy legs - I
wonder at what age, my curly haired boy
will learn that he can’t reach his hand out
to every stranger?
We live with the legacy of slavery.
No discomfort with people: discomfort
with encounters. Our life experiences tell
us that we must caution our sons and
daughters. We tell them to “reach for the
stars but be prepared to be shot down.”
And while he discovers discrimination, I
will teach him to ignore ignorance. But
that will never be enough to wash the pain
away. Because you see, I am a black woman,
raising a son, the son my sister coveted but
feared having because you know ‘statistics
aren’t great for young black boys’. So, for
my son I stand for a better future.
We must understand that the lives of black
people are slaughtered by much more than
the American Police Force.
If you ask me that question, I’ll tell you there are only
two things I know for sure and that is my birthday
(03/04/1997) and my name (Keiran Brown). If you want
to know any more than that, you’d have to spend some
time getting to know me beyond your preconceptions.
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