Black History Month?

What does Black History Month mean to you?

For me, Black History Month is a time for this country celebrate the history of Black people in Britain. I choose to celebrate my history daily, but I think it's important that the nation has chosen to allocate a month where, surely, we acknowledge the eventful past of Black Britons. The fact that there is such a thing as Black History Month  acts as testament, not only to the struggles faced by Black people in Britain, but also to their major contributions to the country.

My youngest brother is 14. His school, which has quite a lot of Black students, has chosen not to celebrate Black History Month, and I don't understand this decision. When I about the same age, Black History Month was acknowledged by a history lesson on the slave trade that was neither memorable nor inspiring. This singular history lesson was the extent of my secondary school's celebration of Black Britain. No mention was made of Windrush migration, the significance of Carnival, the Brixton Riots, or anything that I might be able to relate to. No, Black History Month was celebrated by a boring, statistic-based re-telling of the horrors of slavery. And because it was so boring, I did not feel compelled to question and explore my history until I was much older.

For my History GCSE, we were taught about the Civil Rights Movement in America. Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, and Malcolm X were part of the curriculum, but why were we taught NOTHING about Black Britain? Indeed, we are taught about ancient history that bears little significance on the present, but not our own? Our history is vast! It is interesting, it is important, it is essential. If we do not know our own history, if we are not educated properly, how are we meant to progress? Why is Black British history left out of the curriculum? Everything I learnt about the history of Black people in Britain came from my parents and my own research. I was lucky enough to base a lot of my MA assignments around Black history, but why is this information not more readily accessible for younger people?

In celebration of Black History Month, I have seen various inspirational facts and figures about African Americans who invented fire extinguishers and traffic lights, became millionaires, and so on. I have seen powerful quotes from key African American figures such as Maya Angelou and Stokely Carmichael. Inspiring as it is, what about Black Britons?  What do you know about Paul Gilroy, Olaudah Equiano, Stuart Hall? Why is Black British history less accessible? What don't they want you to know? I believe that acknowledging and understanding our history is a pivotal part of shaping our identities. And as a Black woman, I find it absurd that I was taught so little at such an impressionable age. By under-educating Black youths, by depriving them of Black British history in the curriculum, we continue to feed into the cycle that sees generation after generation misunderstand their position in Britain. And if we are unable to understand our position in Britain, we remain unable to negotiate it and surpass expectation.

These are just thoughts, musings. I raise more questions than I will ever be able to answer.

What If?

Have you ever wondered....

What if Prince Charming never put the glass slipper on Cinderella's foot?
What if Wendy stayed in Neverland?
What if Simba didn't make Hakuna Matata his motto?
What if Ariel never got her voice back?
What if Belle didn't fall in love with the Beast?
What if Tiana didn't kiss the frog?
What if Snow White didn't eat the apple?
What if Andy's mum never bought him a Buzz Lightyear toy?

What if Disney stopped selling us lies?

Make No Apologies

Wild haired, bare-faced, moody, stressed.
This is my self portrait.
I make no apologies for who I am today .

My Favourite Time Of Year

I do love the Spring. The blossom on the tree outside my window reminds me that we all get second chances.

100 Acre Wood

Now We Are Six

When I was one I had just begun
When I was two I was nearly new

When I was three I was hardly me

When I was four I was not much more

When I was five I was just alive

But now I am six, I'm as clever as clever;

So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

A. A Milne

This was my favourite poem growing up. Reading it now, I feel like a six year old again! Wasn't life great when you thought you knew it all, but you really knew nothing?!

Nostalgia

So We've Established Your Skin tone....

I'm writing this post after watching an old channel 4 documentary called Bleach, Nip, Tuck: The White Beauty Myth. The show followed three black and Asian people in their quest to look more Westernised. There was a black glamour model waiting for a nose job to get rid of her "typically black" nose, and Asian woman obsessed with skin bleaching creams, and an Asian male model who had surgery to give him a more mainstream (AKA white) face.
Maybe its because I'm black myself that the glamour model, Jett's story stuck with me the most. She was living in a gated, predominantly white community in Essex, her pinnacle of beauty was Barbie, and she associated her broad nose with her blackness, as if getting rid of her nose would rid her of her blackness.
I watched this documentary, and my blood was warming up. You know when you can't sit still because the irritation is building up? I could not understand for the life of me how anyone could hate the colour of their skin so much. The individual is partly to blame, but the West is guilty of perpetuating this White Beauty Myth. The media bombards us with white faces, and tells us 'This is what beauty is'.
Within the black community, I feel that a lot of people almost subscribe to this warped hierarchy too. The amount of times I've logged onto twitter and seen the phrase "piff lightie"... its not even funny anymore. As if, the lighter your skin tone, the more beautiful you are. This is such a colonial way of thinking about skin tone - the whiter you are, the more attractive you are.
I guess the point I'm really trying to make is: Do you think anyone cares how dark or light you are? You're still BLACK!

So you wanna call yourself a lightie? Or a brownin? Or are you blick? Ok, so we've established your skin tone..... now what? And who the fuck really cares?

First Post of 2012!

I always promise to stop being such an unreliable blogger, and then I go ahead and be unreliable anyway. *sigh*.
Anyway, its a snowy cold day, my internet is FINALLY working, and I have copious amounts of uni work to do, which makes this the opportune moment to write a blog.

Time is moving scary fast again! I don't even know when 2012 showed up, let alone February of 2012!

One thing I've realised about myself is that I love to write. Not because I'm particularly good at writing; more because, for me, writing is a bit like therapy. Be it a blog post, a tweet, a BBM status, a review (notice how essays don't make the list), there is something very therapeutic about writing it down. Most of the time I don't care who is or isn't reading, but the ability to freely express myself is very calming. Playing the piano has a similar effect on me. Once again, I'm not a brilliant pianist, and my repertoire is in desperate need of expansion, but I can't describe the feeling that comes with closing your eyes and listening to the sound your own hands are making.

Because I'm constantly stressing out, it makes sense that I should write (blog) more often and play more piano. But I'm not even gonna sit here and promise that I'll write more often, because I break that promise consistently.

Love, Peace & Afro Grease x