Growing up Black in London — A cry for help
What an emotional week it has been for Black people globally. My heart goes out to the family of George Floyd — we grieve with you and truly hope his death serves as a catalyst for change — we stay hopeful. To share such an emotional topic is scary on so many fronts, and had this been a few years ago, I would dare not speak out of turn in fear of repercussions to my career (how sad). Fortunately, I find myself at the intersection of anger, frustration, disappointment and sadness and the only way to deal with that is to write down my thoughts.
For many of us that grew up in London, racism has been a constant feature in our lives. I remember the first time getting stopped and searched by the police on the way to school. I was petrified and nervous as the police rummaged through my pockets and school bag. Tales of drugs being planted on school kids were very normal. A black parent’s responsibility back then was teaching their children how to navigate the tough world of Operation Trident — a Metropolitan Police task force dedicated to tackling gun crime (and everything else it seemed) within the black community. Like the rest of my peers, we were forced to normalise fear as this became a frequent occurrence in my childhood. Take a second to acknowledge how disturbing that is for a child to have to do.
Like many other Black Brits, we had family and friends dotted around the US, Africa and the Caribbean and one commonality we shared was discussing our experience with racism. With the US, racism is more overt and outlandish, Africa and the Caribbean have to deal with a post-colonial era whilst Britain specialises in institutional racism. They also have factions of society that have been vocal about their hatred for Black people since my mother’s generation. Let’s not forget the phrase “No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish”.
Our generation had to deal with institutionalised racism as Britain had no clue how to “deal with black kids”. Whether it was getting detention because of a gregarious laugh in class or seeing your best friend expelled for having an “inappropriate” hairstyle, growing up Black British always felt like an experiment. I have a vivid memory of my A-level Chemistry teacher reprimanding me on my first day of class telling me, “your mum and dad made a mistake sending you to this sixth form”.
Many friends of mine gave up fighting this losing battle and fell through the cracks but those that made it through had to accept that hearing “NO” was going to be a common occurrence. For me, I went searching for the “NOs” as I felt a need to prove everyone wrong which sparked a hunger that drove me.
My final year of university was eventful, to say the least. My best friend Si one afternoon asked me to take a break from my Master’s project to walk with him to the shop. We lived in Canary Wharf at the time and on our walk back, 2 police vans, squad cars and an unmarked car intercepted us. They jumped out with guns screaming “Police!!! Get down now”. I just remember laughing in disbelief wondering where the hidden camera was (MTV Punk’d). Needless to say, Ashton Kutcher never appeared. Instead, we were rugby tackled and read our rights. All I could think of as my face was being pressed against the pavement was “I am certain I paid for this tropical juice I just bought”. After being marched to the police station, we found out a few hours later we were being charged with “Armed Robbery”.
The fear I had learnt to normalise quickly reappeared. In that instance, all the stories and parallels we heard of innocent black men being jailed were becoming a reality. Panic set in and I had to get word to my mother. Luckily, my family had strong political ties as my mum’s late brother was one of the first black MPs in Britain. This allowed my mum to get hold of the Bethnal Green Police Commissioner who quickly delved into the situation and ordered our immediate release after a 36-hour lockup.
The reason given for the arrest was that a witness who the police could no longer track (very handy) spotted 2 black men roughly 6ft3 raiding a shop with a firearm and a baseball bat. I am far from 6ft3. From the police’s perspective, they acted in accordance with the law. A law that allows a random witness to make two innocent black males the prime suspects of such a crime. Amy Cooper is nothing new — she has always existed. Just like that our lives could have been very different. We fought very hard to get our DNA and fingerprints removed from police records. All I was conditioned to do was bury this to prevent any future backlash on my career (again how sad).
What I wish I did was call out this injustice and violation irrespective of the consequences. I know this now. I should have responded to the DCIs letter (snippet below) telling him my confidence in the police and the judicial system has and will always be low until they address and acknowledge the institutional racism and bias that exists in their organisation.
To succeed in London, you had to learn to succeed in the big society. Meaning, you were forced to change who you were when operating in non-black environments. You had to create a new persona that was not “uncomfortable” to be around. Most black people can relate to this — we have a corporate version of ourselves. Do you know how exhausting that is? All I ever wanted was to be myself in all situations. Luckily for me, with time and experience, I finally reached that lifelong milestone of being unapologetically black (Thank you LBS) hence why I am writing this today.
However, before that milestone, navigating the corporate landscape as a black person in London was one of the most daunting experiences. It was either you were treated as a race case waiting to happen and therefore ignored by most and denied opportunities or, you were on the receiving end of jokes which you found offensive (checkmate).
Adversity has always been a motivation, but I recall phoning Si who was also working in corporate London at the time, and I was ready to quit; I had had enough! I had attended after-work drinks with clients when one suggested I had to be the cleaner as he had never seen me before. I wasn’t sure what gave it away; must have been the blue suit and Hermes tie… A few people nervously laughed but one colleague sternly highlighted to the client how inappropriate that was as I furiously walked away. On another occasion, I even got asked outrageously in front of clients with arms around my shoulders, “isn’t it true all n****rs are scared of dogs”. I truly didn’t know how to react as my natural response would have got me in trouble [with the law]. The worst of the bunch, was when I was referred to as a house n****r which must have been because I was the only black person on the desk — that broke me. As insane as the above sounds, I still refused to write about it until my proofreaders forced me on a conference call for an intervention. They said fear should not be the reason to not share my truths and that many other people could gain the confidence to speak up — after all, isn’t that the purpose of this blog?
Anyway, I saw time and time again the black agenda get pushed lower and lower down the pecking order or grouped into “Diversity and Inclusion” initiatives. It was almost as if no one cared. It was almost taboo to identify as black; we were referred to as BAME (Black, Asian & Minority Ethnics) which I’m guessing was only for statistical reasons as our respective fights and life experiences in London were rather different albeit difficult.
There were not many leaders in our respective firms or colleagues that looked like us. We had no outlets. We were operating in a foreign world with foreign rules learning as we went along. On that call with Si, he told me we had to keep going because we had to be the change we wanted to see and that future generations would rely on the blueprint we were creating. Powerful words which inspired some action.
That summer, five of us decided to form a young professional group, tell a black friend to tell another black friend and this eventually grew organically to about 400 young black professionals across all corporate sectors in London. At the time, we were sure that was the whole population of young black talent which highlighted the lack of racial diversity in corporate London. This platform allowed us to share our experiences with racism in the workplace (very therapeutic), discuss mentoring programmes for the younger generation and form lifelong bonds.
In my working life, the only true friendships I made were always with individuals who were comfortable speaking openly about race. I recall a conversation with one of my Directors who I got along with. He told me a random story about how strange it felt being the only white person at a Harvard MBA graduation party for their black society in Miami because he stood out so much. Completely oblivious to the statement, he continued to tell his story until I reminded him this was how I felt every-single-day-at-work. It was as if he had an epiphany and felt awful which I was secretly happy about.
It was very normal for people to grow up in the UK without having any black friends or be in situations to interact with black people. For many colleagues, I was probably the only black person they interacted with which in itself was pressure at the highest level. However, the main difference between this Director and many others I have been exposed to was that he was inquisitive, he wasn’t content in just getting along with me, there was mutual respect, we challenged each other’s thoughts, he asked the right questions to know me as a person which led to us being great friends till this day.
Work should be a comfortable place to discuss race. The best manager I ever had prior to him passing away suddenly was superb at doing this. He understood and knew me and as a result, I could operate freely without spending 50% of my energy conscious about not coming across “aggressive”, “loud”, or whatever the new label is these days. Under this management style, I was promoted a year earlier to Associate because I could finally fly without any constraints.
Most young professionals I have been exposed to are Allies. They grew up in a world were black culture was prominent, they have black friends, they love black music, they eat jerk chicken and even know what Jollof rice is. This is what makes London such a great city; a melting pot of diverse young professionals curious to understand each other’s stories. So, my challenge to you is to call out the bullsh*t when you see it. Help us change the narrative. We agree all lives matter but still retweet the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter to educate the bigots and highlight the inequality caused by racism.
Finally, let us address one of the structural pillars of racism i.e. the control of wealth and capital. The number of investors from underrepresented backgrounds has always been low but the asset class with the most amount of impact on entrepreneurs and the future of companies is Venture Capital. “Mirror-tocracy” vs Meritocracy i.e. the unconscious bias that makes investors allocate capital to founders that look and sound like them as opposed to judging who receives capital by merit. This means black founders in London do not even stand a chance when it comes to raising capital for their startups because black investors are few and far between. So even if you are an entrepreneur with stellar KPIs, the truth is that you are most likely going to limit your ambition because the capital needed to scale and create successful companies is hard to come by. Due to this, funds like the London-based venture firm Impact X Capital was founded to support underrepresented founders across Europe. This is the game-changer our community needs. Imagine the luxury of dreaming big and there being a road map to achieve those dreams — mind blown. Other firms such as Goodsoil ventures and Cornerstone Partners are also raising capital and I welcome all LPs to consider how impactful investing in these funds will be for so many young and ambitious dreamers. Also, isn’t it time for a few of us to be sitting on UK corporate boards? I know I’m ready and there are 100s more in my network waiting to be noticed.
I encourage all my black peers to write a similar story from their perspective. A lot of people I know have experienced worse things and have gone on to achieve greatness. We can collate and create an anthology of mini-stories. Being transparent about our collective experiences will educate the masses and get them to know us better. Ironically, the first time I was stopped by the police, I was late for my GCSE Anthology class. We were covering Tatamkhulu Afrika’s powerful poem about life in post-Apartheid South Africa called Nothing’s Changed. The inconvenient truth is that 18 years on and nothing has changed; I am still fearful growing up in London and I am still smiling to cover my pain — but I stay hopeful.
