I was scrolling through twitter on the 29th of April (procrastinating) when I saw that David Lammy was trending. I decided to follow this up and was intrigued by the positivity that was being channelled towards him. Politics is a brutal business, and few MP’s have received as much vitriol and sheer savaging as the MP for Tottenham. We know him as a passionate campaigner, a seemingly lone voice crying out against the injustices that blight our commonweal. Few can forget his condemnation of the Windrush scandal, the agony that gripped his voice as he expressed the sense of betrayal felt by ethnic minorities across the UK who were wrongfully deported in what Lammy titled the “national day of shame.” However, lone voices are an easy target for the opposition, and Lammy's defiant stances have earned him the burning hatred of many right-wingers in the UK.
I soon discovered that Lammy's surge in popularity was the result of his performance in an LBC video, in which he challenged a lady who claimed that his Caribbean roots and dark skin mean that he isn't English. Lammy was on top form throughout the dialogue: he answered the lady’s questions with cool logic and maintained his composure throughout. The skill with which he marshalled his answers suggested that he had been in similar situations before. I made sure to detach myself while watching the interaction, made sure that I repressed the memories that tried to seize my attention. Like, I suspect, many other ethnic minorities watching the video, I kept it schtum, and focused on the interaction taking place before me, tried to dissect his arguments.
Because I'm a multi-tasking addict, I scrolled through the reactions at the same time, and noticed that while many people applauded Lammy’s response, few expressed outright horror at the woman’s remarks. Perhaps the political events of our time have desensitised us to such bigotry. We have lived through one term of having a leader of the free world who posted dog whistles on social media. We now have a UK prime minister who compared Muslim women to letterboxes and described black people using the racist term “piccaninnies.” A Pandora’s Box of prejudice has been diligently prised open by our leaders, and the contents have poured over us, stifled our inclination to express shock and emboldened some within our community.
Ultimately, it is difficult to understand what it is like to be in David Lammy’s position if you haven’t been there. Imagine being born in a country, or spending a significant amount of your life in one, to the extent that it is the only country that you are genuinely familiar with. Your identity was forged in this country, you were taught in this country, made friends in this country, experienced hardship and ecstasies in this country, yet at any moment your entire image of yourself, your truth can be challenged by someone whose particular shade of melanin emboldens them to root out your sense of belonging. You’re like a plant that is constantly pulled out then re-planted – when will this end?
The worst part is the pressure. You must defend yourself – it is essential that you win the contest. However, while defending yourself and winning the debate, you must compose yourself in such a manner that no one can accuse you of being pugnacious, overly emotional or (God forbid) rude. You feel as if the fate of millions of ethnic minorities in England hang upon your every word, your every thrust and parry. And it is only after undergoing this trial, this fiery contest that you can come through on the other side and be referred to as a “good citizen” or a “true Englishman.” A clap on the back is the reward. Good luck with your next one – chin up. It is a humiliating situation to be put in. You feel like a lonely kid on the school playground trying to persuade a group that you should be allowed to join in their frivolity. I can play too - you cry out. I can play too.
At that point, you may start to ask yourself why you are fighting in the first place. What does it even mean to be English? Uh oh, I’ve put my foot in it now. The truth is that Lammy’s contest with the lady was about competing visions: whose vision of England is the correct one? After watching the video, I did what I often do when I have an important issue on my mind. I tried to find a natural element of the earth to focus on while I allowed my mind to meander. If it’s a clear blue sky I look up, but on that day the clouds were shifting above and so I focused on an area of greenery, swollen with trees situated near our housing block. There was something rather ancient about the area, and I wondered how long it had been there. How many different versions of England had it seen?
In 1903 a human male skeleton, the oldest in Britain, was found in Somerset; an investigation showed that the individual lived around 10,000 years ago and had dark brown skin, suggesting that the lighter skin of modern Europeans is a recent phenomenon. When did his people migrate to this island, and did they ever wander near the mystical scenery that I was gazing at? It’s a fanciful thought I know, but I couldn’t help asking myself, couldn’t help probing. Did the soil, somewhere deep down, somehow, bear evidence of their life, loves and troubles?
My thoughts stretched all the way to the migration of the Celts in 600BCE from mainland Europe, the migration of the Anglo-Saxons in 450 CE, all the way down to the Windrush generation in 1948. Years and years of change, movement, the Roman rule, the Norman rule, identity changing, being forged then melted and morphed again, arrivals hoping for security, a better life for their families and maybe something intangible, yearning for something within themselves, a solace that this little island could provide.
After a while, I turned my attention back to the Lammy video. He was a credit to himself, but I long for the day when such a defence will not be necessary. The question of what it means to be English, or even British, is one that is still being asked today. It is one which dominates our political landscape, from the yearning for Scottish independence in the North to the desire to break away from Europe, from the continent that our ancient ancestors migrated from in order to forge a new identity. What does it mean to be English? I can’t say that I have the answer, but perhaps on greater inspection we will find that the question of whether or not someone can be a functioning member of our society is not based on arbitrary features like skin colour, place of birth and period of residence but on something far deeper, potent, more substantive - something closer to the roots.
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