BLM: A Time to Listen

by Emma Kirby

As a nation for the most part, and certainly as a school, there is a strong desire to bring about change in our country’s attitudes to race, prompted by the abhorrent murder of George Floyd in America. It feels like a turning point. Take PGS’ formalised approach to the movement: communicating to parents directly about this issue; a large petition organised by alumni pupils with the aim of inducing systemic change in curricula; the sincere pledge to facilitate a dialogue about issues so long entrenched but, in some ways, white-washed by our culture. Such action is happening across schools around the country and, indeed, in countless other institutions. Deeply encouraging as it is that people from all walks of life are finding their voices in response to ‘Black Lives Matter’, how to support this movement in a productive way is perhaps a little trickier to marshal. 

I think (perhaps because I am an English teacher) that we need to start with language. There are lots of phrases being employed at the moment - some increasingly controversial - ‘white saviour’, ‘white privilege’ -  that need unpacking, because their very meanings underpin a number of attitudes that we need to understand. And, as a school that is predominantly white and middle class, we have to understand terms that may at first seem confusing or even alienating. 

Last year, journalist Stacey Dooley was criticised for posting a picture of herself on Instagram with a black child while working for Comic Relief in Uganda. I remember at the time feeling uncomfortable seeing this, especially because the picture was accompanied by the word ‘OBSESSED’ in capital letters repeated, and with an emoji love heart. It didn’t sit right. Dooley quickly came under fire, notably by MP David Lammy who hit back at Dooley via Twitter claiming that the world 'doesn't need any more white saviours.’ Lammy was referring to the attitudes of white Westerners who assume that ‘Africa’ - often perceived as a country rather than a continent - is in a position of weakness and vulnerability, and that the West has the potential to ‘save it’. Such attitudes are legacies of colonialism, embodied by the soldier and missionary whose actions were based on the premise that ‘the other’ needed civilising and spiritual enlightenment. The idea is neatly encapsulated in Rudyard Kipling’s nineteenth- century poem, ‘The White Man’s Burden’, which instructed colonialists to 'Fill full the mouth of famine and bid the sickness cease.' We are used to these stories on our screens, even today. In 2017, Ed Sheeran came under heavy criticism when working on behalf of Comic Relief when he offered to pay for street children in Liberia to stay in a hotel for a week. Phrases such as ‘poverty porn’ and ‘poverty tourism’ emerged in response to narratives that, albeit inadvertently, reinforce offensive stereotypes of apathy and hopelessness: by extension, disconcertingly, the Westerner is portrayed as heroic, with the means and skills to ‘enlighten’ Eastern communities.

After Dooley’s controversy, Comic Relief made the wise decision to stop using as many celebrities as spokespeople. The world began to see the rich, wealthy privileged as inappropriate mouthpieces for raising awareness of lives so far removed from their own (and ‘Black Lives Matter’ is by no means the only movement that has prompted such opinions: think of the number of celebrities criticised for their ‘hypocritical’ attitudes towards climate change). However, heads of charities are often keen to point out that the reason celebrities are used is because we live in a society that is not going to listen to a ‘nobody’ from ‘nowhere’. In contrast, fly Tom Hardy in Yemen and shoot some emotional footage, and you are guaranteed public interest, therefore likely securing the contributions needed. It is a sad fact that our celebrity culture means that issues such as race, poverty, gender and sexual identity are only marketable as issues if the rich and famous package them for us.

Yet, arguably, even if the end doesn’t quite justify the means, it does yield some rewards: Ed Sheeran’s charity film eventually raised over £80 million. How to give foreign aid via charitable means in a way that is respectful and helpful remains problematic. I clearly recall a friend who has undertaken significant charity work in several African countries arguing during the Dooley controversy, that such attitudes can undermine the good that Western aid can do. She herself felt affronted - that her charitable efforts were not only seen as misplaced but actually perceived as part of a potentially racist discourse. She has a point. She, like Dooley, meant ‘nothing sinister’ in her attempts to be charitable. Likewise,  Ed Sheeran no doubt had good intentions, but intentions are only part of the story. It is a reminder of the difficulties of potentially engaging in such action and dialogue; it is not just action, but execution that matters. Meghan Markle was recently praised for her comments regarding George Floyd, but made the point that she almost said nothing at all because she was worried that ‘she would be ripped to shreds’. Emma Watson too, usually praised for the intellect that underpins her activism, came under fire for ‘blacking out’ her Instagram account (many argued that the whole movement was weak, tokenistic liberalism), but even more so for putting a white border around it; she was accused of prioritising the aesthetic over the political, and labelled a ‘performative activist.’ The world’s attitude to the West’s discourse about other countries has been under revision for some time from a public eye that has become increasingly more politically aware and sensitive to outmoded stereotypes. Now, after the devastating muder of George Floyd, a spotlight has been thrown not just on what we do to support the’ Black Lives Matter’ movement, but how we can do it in a way that is supportive and not counter-intuitive. 

Some are arguing that scrutinising in such a way people who are trying to do good will silence these people, that they will become too concerned about ‘getting it wrong’ and therefore, say nothing. This cannot be an option. Arguably, celebrities have a duty to use their platform to raise awareness of such issues. Equally, surely we all have a responsibility to talk, engage and speak up about such important issues, famous or not. As Meghan Markle rightly said, the only wrong thing to say is nothing.  The phrase ‘white silence is violence’ is a controversial saying that has garnered much criticism. It is often dismissed as hyperbole, but its point is a valid one: that remaining silent and therefore indifferent to the racial issues in our country, and beyond, is a form of complicity. We praised and continue to praise men that speak up in support of the #Metoo movement. Not being directly affected by an issue should not preclude one from having a voice; in fact, acknowledging and listening to others less privileged than you is surely a human duty. Which leads to another problematic term: ‘white privilege’. White privilege does not mean that you are privileged, per se. You can be ill-educated, poor, disenfranchised in a whole host of other ways; it simply means that the colour of your skin is not one of them. It has become a loaded and controversial term that has been seized upon by the far- right, feeding a narrative set on depicting white people as victims, held hostage by political correctness gone mad. Yet, to acknowledge that you are privileged because of your skin colour is simply to acknowledge that you are not disadvantaged by it, in a way that others are. It also, in my opinion, does not and should not exclude you from a very important dialogue. 

I would suggest that how we engage with this dialogue is what we need to think about, and be open-minded about how this can be done. The brilliantly satirical ‘Barbie Saviour’ Instagram account challenges the white saviour complex hilariously by imagining a story in which Barbie heads to Africa to lend a helping hand. It starts by her saying farewell to the US and hoping that the ‘sweet sweet orphans in the country of Africa’ are going to love her the way she already ‘loves them’. Stylish as well as philanthropic, Barbie takes ‘slumfies’ of herself in the village she is visiting, ‘feeling #blessed and #thankful she has so much more than this!’ The women behind the account created it after ten years working for charitable causes in countries across the globe, reflecting on their time and questioning what was in fact helpful and what was, ironically, unhelpful. While they say there are excellent and productive charities working, so much they have witnessed has been at best ineffectual and naive, and at worst, harmful. They give examples of white rich people enjoying ‘orphanage tourism’, Westerners trafficking children in the name of adoption and going over to do jobs they would never be deemed skilled enough to do in the West. Another example of the damage ill-judged volunteering can do is of volunteers temporarily caring for orphaned children who suffer from emotional detachment disorder when their temporary carer leaves. So too, there have been a number of reports of orphanages deliberately keeping orphans in poor conditions so as to attract more volunteers. But does that mean that such work has no place? In short, no, but it does mean that there is a dilemma that needs addressing: we need to reflect and learn from criticism of more traditional Western approaches to charity work and, indeed, how more generally, our perceptions of the East have been focalised through a Western lens which is distorted.

 During this century, before Floyd’s death, people were beginning to revise this Western vision of an imagined East. Recent criticism of Band Aid’s 80s Christmas single - that it characterises Africa as a homogenous site of poverty - was met with the riposte from Bob Geldof that ‘it’s a charity single, not a PHD’. Again, we come back to good intentions, and the revenue generated from such projects that undoubtedly has done so much good. But, especially now, we are called upon to think about how we can take action and engage in a discourse helpfully in the twenty-first century. The creators of ‘Barbie Instagram’ offer some simple advice for volunteers: act as you would at home. For instance, would a nurse in the UK take a selfie of themselves and  their patient, and post an emotionally charged message on Instagram with how tragic the patient’s life is and how they are feeling so fulfilled by what they’re doing? Of course not. It is crass, patronising and utterly inappropriate. Instead the creators urge you to act and think as you always would, rather than bringing a stereotypical, outdated and narrow perspective of Eastern countries to bear on your actions and words. Like Dooley’s Instagram post, such pictures, posts and blogs can become about you, not those you seek to support. You tell your story, not theirs.

But we must keep telling stories, even if at times we are working these out as we go along. We must keep talking and, crucially, listening. Wanting to support a cause we may not ourselves have been affected by personally or directly is a worthy, important intention. Reverend William Lawson pointed out at George Floyd’s funeral that, when he first marched for black rights during the Civil Rights Movement, all those marching were black. ‘Now’, he said to applause, ‘there are white people who know the story, Hispanics who know the story, Asians who know the story…’ To understand stories that are not our own requires us to listen and educate ourselves, and as an educational institute, it is our job as teachers to put in place the necessary lessons for our young people to know these stories.

And if we miss a chapter or misunderstand something, we must hope for leniency and kindness from others. Emma Watson responded to criticism by saying that ‘although she cannot know what it feels like for you [the black community], she is determined to educate herself as much as she can by ‘researching, learning, listening.’ It is both the very most and the very least many of us can do. If we bother, we can all educate ourselves about this burgeoning movement and play our part. In ‘Barbie Instagram’, even Barbie herself shows potential to listen and learn from others. As she herself puts it: 'I have noticed people informing me that Africa is a continent and not a country. I hope you can forgive my mistake. I have so much to learn!"