There is no denying that 2020 has been the craziest year. Certainly, in our lifetime and probably still for the generations above ours. With the global pandemic, questionable political decisions and many protests and uprisings, it’s felt like many years smashed together, the universe seeing just how much commotion we can handle before we fall apart. 

 

Amid the chaos, the Black Lives Matter Movement resurged once more, sparked by the murders of George Floyd and Breona Taylor (and countless other innocent Black people) at the hands of police officers. The dehumanisation of Black people once more being broadcast around the world all over social media. Humans that could have been me or you, becoming hashtags, and the pursuit for justice gaining momentum on the streets in Cities around the world. Little justice has been served in the cases that sparked the movement, but online, the world seemed to wake up to how unfairly Black people continue to be treated and discriminated against literally because of the colour of our skin. 

 

Brands, influencers and friends alike, flooded my Instagram timeline, acknowledging privilege, muting themselves on Black-out Tuesday and sharing information and articles to spread awareness on the problem and ways they, and others in privileged positions, could help. 

 

A small step forward. 

Never A Minority

My family has never really been political. Don’t get me wrong, we all have opinions that we shout loudly about to each other in our little family echochamber, but bringing those opinions to the streets or the timeline… that’s something that’s very alien to me. 

I grew up in Catford, south east London and have lived in London for all of my 28 years. Some might actually say that most of my life has been an echochamber. Catford was populated by a richness of culture, everyone just going through the motions to get by and support their families. Being black in the area that I grew up in meant for the most part I was just like everyone else. I was surrounded by my big Jamaican family and then went to a secondary school that was 55% White and 45% Black and other ethnicities. I really never felt like a minority  – probably why I hate the term ‘BAME’.

However, when I took a step outside my diverse bubble, I was met with the harsh reality of what being Black can mean to non-Black people. It was threatening, it was unknown and it was other. My first ever boyfriend was White and I literally, naively, thought nothing of it. Yes, our families are different but we really liked each other and I thought, ‘well as long as my parents like you that’s the main thing’. But the looks we would get when we were out together and especially when we ventured abroad made me so uncomfortable but he would tell me I was being sensitive or paranoid. I guess we were both naive to the complexities that can come with an interracial relationship. But that’s when I started to wake up to the world outside my bubble. 

The Best Or The Blackest?

With my schools and then my university being really mixed with different races and cultures. Entering the world of journalism in the UK, the lack of diversity hit me like a bag of flour. After undertaking lots of work experience and internships before and during university, I expected to get an entry role pretty quickly, but was met with a wall of silence and with every application sent I felt more depleted. I eventually got a role with Blackhair magazine, which I was so happy about, but also questioned why it took a Black publication to hire me? 

Going to events and shows, I could see how much I would stick out, often the only Black beauty journalist at the dinner table or event, often being told that the foundation launching is ‘coming out with more shades at a later date…’ When I started my next job, I was the only Black woman at the company. The people I worked with were so friendly and so eager to learn more about things beyond their own culture but the weight of constantly teaching often hung ominously over my actual job. 

With the BLM movement making companies look within their own hiring process and the unconscious bias that might be prohibiting a diverse workforce, I worry that our Blackness is now becoming more of a commodity. As a new freelancer, I couldn’t have dreamt of having as much work as I currently have (and long may it continue) but with every commission or project I’m given, I get a wave of imposter syndrome. ‘Am I the best or am I the blackest?’ I wonder. As the world wakes up to the value we bring to the workforce in all areas of work it’s important we remember our own litness, beyond the colour of our skin, the unique perspective and experience our culture has infused us with. 

Because being Black is amazing. The richness of our cultures that’s celebrated and revered around the world is so undeniable. The cultural references from music to lifestyle, fashion, beauty, and don’t even get me started on memes. The amount that we give to the world is finally being spoken about and appreciated with more depth, and when appropriated without recognition is being called out.

Swimming Forward

For me, being Black in 2020 has been like swimming in deep water. Our inherent strength, our legs, working frantically beneath the surface to keep us afloat. When the news coverage of another brutalised Black body, the waves bringing us under, our strength is the only thing to bring us back above water. 2020 has been tiring, it’s been a year of trying to stay afloat, but I can feel the tide changing slightly. As we move through the craziest year in our lifetime my family, my resilience and strength, and ability to always push forward are the things that have gotten me through so far, all of which I can attribute to being a Black woman.