Black Boys On Mopeds

I read a comment on Lightstalkers by a photojournalist who said that growing up in London twenty years ago he wasn’t aware of any racism. It’s typical of a revisionist version of the world that has been prevalent in the comments sections of many photography blogs the past couple of months since Stan Banos sparked a debate on the subject.

I grew up at the same time.

One of my most painful memories was as a seven year old seeing a little boy called Harjit get viciously kicked in against the window of Wilkinsons in Nottingham because he was a ‘paki’.

Nobody cared.

Back then racist jokes were ten a penny in the playground. Racism was open and it was sickening, especially against kids whose families originated from the sub continent.

I was one of the kids who laughed at the jokes and hated myself for it afterwards.

And we really wonder why so many ethnic men of Harjit’s generation grew up angry and violent? Why so many who were getting nothing but two fingers up from this world felt pulled to a form of Islamic, Sikh or Hindu fundamentalism that welcomed them with a warm embrace, that gave them a sense of identity?

In 2009 we’ve made massive strides but as an outsider I’ve been astonished at how many photographers believe that issues of race don’t permeate into the industry. Its a naivete that understandably upsets and hurts those that know the bitter truth and no longer want it buried.

Its not malicious, but is it pernicious. It helps maintain the status quo that feeds those too busy gorging themselves at photography’s top table to speak out. Essentially it is like believing that because you can’t see someone, they don’t exist. Because its not your knife that cuts them, they don’t bleed

I know what its like to bleed, to feel alienated, to feel self hatred and to feel you don’t belong in the world. I know what it feels like to be abused and to be persecuted for who you are. At times as a small child I felt overwhelmed by such feelings but over the years I learned that what pain and suffering and loss I have felt connects me to the world, as does my overwhelming joy and laughter and love of life. I cannot turn away from what I see and feel because for me to do so would be to die.

I know two types of dangerous people in the world. Those that suffer and feel pain and make it their mission that others do not have to go though what they have. These are the people that change the world and are a danger to the status quo. Then there are those that suffer and feel pain and turn it back on the world, expecting, even delighting in others going through what they’ve been through. These are the people that are breaking our world.

Then there are those who see evil everywhere but inside themselves.

The truth is we are all common in our suffering, its just that some people are more common than others.

And we are all welcome to explore this world as photographers, its just that some photographers are more welcome than others.

In the UK ethic minorities are more susceptible to poverty, poor education, chronic health problems, depression and suicide. They are more likely to end up in prison. None of that diminishes the fact that that there is also a British white underclass, forgotten, marginalized, impoverished and with no voice. Equally we need to find a place for them to be heard and more opportunities to pull themselves out of poverty.

I remember the beating that was meted out to Harjit like it was yesterday. I went home and cried. I bet Harjit cried harder. I could have done something, but I didn’t. I could have said something but I didn’t. I just stood passively by accepting that I lived in a world where essentially it was alright to get your head kicked in because of the color of your skin.

No-one in this debate about racism has more right to be ashamed than me.

(Here’s a song for the photographer who grew up in a London twenty years ago where racism was non-existant)