Black History Month: When Anecdote Meets Ancestry
Did you know October is Black History Month in the UK? Buckle in for a month of Black history lessons, book recs, and reflections.
When I was 14 years old, race, its histories and present legacies, became starkly apparent to me for the first time.
As a child of immigrants—my Dad from Ghana and Mum from Trinidad and Tobago—I, of course, understood some of the realities of race for us in the Northeast of England in the 1990s and early 2000s. I knew that white children could only understand my melanated skin by assuming I was dirty, that I was the first Black person many kids (and their parents) had ever seen in real life; that the monkey noises people made at me at bus stops and behind teachers backs happened only to me; that puberty rendered my body an unusual sight of curves in places and of proportions unknown to most around me. I understood that people made fun of my parents’ accents and that people would spit, mutter slurs, or simply scowl at us as we walked through town. I understood my mother’s insistence on our pristine clothing, even if they were second-hand, and my parents’ insistence on excellence. I understood this all came from us being “the only” in every room we were in; I understood this was all happening because we were Black.
But it wasn’t until we visited Elmina Castle, a Slave Castle on the coast of Ghana, that I came to actually understand that these experiences were bigger than our little lives in Sunderland.
Seeing the blood-stained walls of dungeons built for tens of prisoners, but which crammed thousands of Black bodies; seeing the auctioning and trading steps; seeing the boulder anchors in the ground and the shackles that held distant kin in their vomit and excrement; seeing the church built on top of these cells where Europeans worshiped the God I’m told is the same as mine, as my ancestors wailed below; seeing the horizon through small cracks—an ocean of promise transformed into a cursed graveyard. My heart broke, and the doors of my mind—previously narrowed into my own experience—blew wide open, and I knew there was so much more to know.
In hindsight, I think this is where and when my heart for Black history was born. Upon our return, I gushed to a friend about what I had seen; she disinterestedly and dismissively retorted, “Oh really? I thought the slave trade was a myth. Are you sure that really happened?” Stunned, an eloquent response escaped me. All I could say was, “Yes; it happened.”
History as Truth-Telling Over Myth-Making
Growing up in the UK, race was a nebulous undercurrent, ever-present, yet rarely named. Its power, systems, and dynamics are rarely spoken of, and if so, America serves as the example of a racialized society. “We don’t have racism here,” people told me frequently, and once I decided to move to America, retorts included, “Are you sure you want to go to America? It’s racist over there!” Indeed, America has long been propped up as Britain’s weird racist uncle that can be pointed to in horror. Meanwhile, Britain refuses to look in the mirror where the bloodied ghosts of millions stand right beside her.
At no point in my primary or secondary education did I learn any of the histories of colonization, the transatlantic slave trade, or the role of Britain in the American slave system. I don’t really know anyone who did. We did, however, learn about Martin Luther King Jr. (with zero context), and that is where I saw that history could DO and MEAN something (for those who are interested in some Dr. Abena lore, I was 16 and wrote an essay on whether MLK was the heartbeat of the Civil Rights Movement. This was the essay that made me sure I would be a historian and study US history). Finally, at university, I took courses hoping to explore more of the history of slavery and colonization, though they were few and far between, mainly featuring as a 2-week unit in a 12-week course. When colonialism came up, the discussion centered on the benefits of colonization and the unforgivable chaos of decolonization at the end of the 20th century. Still “the only” in the class, I grew exhausted by students who waxed lyrical about how “Britain should stay British,” and how “the Commonwealth should be grateful to the British.” The most I could hope for was a left-leaning classmate who might push back with me. (Some of you know I found my place with the Americanists, but that’s a story for another day.)
As a kid, I believed that we weren’t included in British history because we weren’t there. I thought everyone’s story was my story—I was the first generation born in the UK, and so that must be the case for all of us; of course, we’re not included. However, I now know that this is by design, a product of British myth-making. Most of history, as crafted by curriculum, the state, and pop culture, is an act of myth-making. History done well is truth-telling. It is commemoration, the examination of the interdependence of factors and actors, celebration where appropriate, lament, learning, and a journey into worlds that ought to be remembered. But histories that have left out minorities have chosen erasure to the end of myth-making. It is a version of history that is more about what is needed from it now.
Black stories have been struck out of British history on purpose. The reality is: We were there. Whether in body or the form of profit from our bodies on lands far away, we were there. Many historians, creatives, and activists have been doing the hard work of truth-telling—of uncovering the Black stories hidden in the red, white, and blue dyes of the Union Jack. Instead of letting Britain’s mythology persist, let’s get into the Black British history you’ve always wanted to know.
A Month in the Archives
So, this month, I am committed to highlighting the work of the countless Black Brits who are changing the national story by making sure ours are known. For the whole month, I will be:
Busting myths about Black British History
Exploring Black migration patterns across time
Uncovering the hidden connections between Black British History and Black American History
Introducing you to Black British activists, artists, and authors you should know!
I will share book recommendations, and if folks are interested, we might have some zoom conversations! I even have a couple of books that I hope to give away at the end of the month to a lucky subscriber.
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Let’s get into the history Britain tries to forget.