{"id":1027,"date":"2025-11-29T10:08:57","date_gmt":"2025-11-29T10:08:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.equalityanddiversity.co.uk\/?p=1027"},"modified":"2025-11-29T10:08:58","modified_gmt":"2025-11-29T10:08:58","slug":"my-lived-experience-of-racism","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.equalityanddiversity.co.uk\/index.php\/2025\/11\/29\/my-lived-experience-of-racism\/","title":{"rendered":"My Lived Experience of Racism"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Growing up, my family were the only Black family in our community. That meant we stood out before we even spoke, walked, or played. It meant our presence challenged people who were not used to seeing families who looked like us, and they did not hide their discomfort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As children, we couldn\u2019t simply blend into the background. Walking to school, sitting on buses, or playing outside, we were met with stares, whispered comments, or outright slurs. People felt entitled to shout, \u201cGo back to where you came from,\u201d even though we had been in this country since we were 5, 7, 9 years old. This was our home, our street, our school, our country.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We learned quickly that belonging was something we would have to fight for.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life in a Community that didn\u2019t want us<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

On buses, adults would pull their children away from us as if we were something to fear. Conversations would go silent the moment we stepped into a shop, shop assistants would give us our change on the counter, not in our hands like other White skinned customers. On the streets, people would make comments loudly enough for us to hear but quietly enough to avoid accountability.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And it didn\u2019t stop in childhood. As adults, we continued to face the same hostility – looks, judgment, being ignored in queues, questioned, or followed. The message was always the same: you don\u2019t belong here. A message repeated so often that it unconsciously shaped how we moved through the world, always alert, always cautious, always ready.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Witnessing Violence and Living with Fear<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We grew up in an era where racism was not just spoken, it was acted out publicly and violently. I remember the fear of witnessing skinheads beating people who looked like me, simply for existing. The threat was real and constant. You didn\u2019t have to be the one attacked to feel the pain; seeing it happen to someone who shared your skin, your features, your identity, was enough to carve fear deep into your memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That kind of violence stays with you. It teaches you that the world can be unsafe in ways others never have to imagine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Building what we were denied<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because mainstream society refused to include us, we had to build our own spaces\u2014our own banks (Pardner Banks), our own social clubs (West Indian Centres), our own networks to survive (Saturday Schools). These weren\u2019t luxuries; they were necessities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pardner Banks: A Community Bank Built from Exclusion<\/p>\n\n\n\n

British banks routinely refused to lend to Black families, labelling us \u201chigh risk\u201d because of our race. So, we created Pardner Banks, community savings systems that allowed us to buy homes, start businesses, and survive. They existed because formal financial systems excluded us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Saturday Schools: Repairing What the Education System Broke<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Black children were underestimated, mislabelled, and funnelled into lower academic streams or ESN schools. Saturday Schools provided academic support, Black history, confidence-building, and cultural grounding. They counteracted the damage caused by systemic racism in mainstream education.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

West Indian Centres and Social Clubs<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When pubs and clubs excluded Black people, we built our own safe spaces. These centres offered community, culture, social belonging, and safety from racist hostility.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Policed, Monitored, and Treated Unfairly<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our community was policed more harshly and more frequently. We were treated as suspects before we were treated as people. Whenever something happened locally, we were the first to be blamed or questioned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And It Still Goes On<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

These patterns haven\u2019t disappeared\u2014they have evolved. Racism is now quieter in some spaces but just as harmful.
<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why I Share This Now<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My lived experience is not an academic exercise. It is a lifetime of navigating racism in its many forms. If you have not lived this, your responsibility is to listen not to minimise or deny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Racism: What It Is, Why It\u2019s Denied, and How to Call It Out<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Racism is still one of the most common, yet most routinely denied forms of discrimination in the UK. Despite decades of legislation, training, and public commitments to equality, too many people respond to reports of racism with phrases like:<\/p>\n\n\n\n