the day the blues won

It’s a grim day for the north of Britain. In fact, it’s a grim day for us all. 

You’d be forgiven in assuming that set to follow these opening words is a tragic and heartfelt prose attempting to grapple with the storm in my heart, as around us the rain beats down and the sun sets over everyone deep enough that we feel it in our bones. But this will be raw. This will be my attempt, as a young, queer Muslim of colour, to take plodding step after plodding step in the face of utter pain.

Today marks the day the blues won. Despite the rage and fire, I feel that today marked thick greedy fingers snuffing out the embers of a spark. A spark that I don’t know how I'll muster again. 

I’d been coasting and coasting in political apathy; a terrible response to trauma that I attack and that I am working desperately to correct. And today it felt like a freight train had slammed into me. But we can’t all be fighting. We can’t all be present. We can’t all take blow after blow after blow and somehow manage to pick ourselves up and explain for the hundredth time that racism should not prevail.

It’s a grim day for Britain but it is most felt in Britain’s marginalised. I’m worried, on a selfish and personal level, about navigating the world with this uninhibited fear of every person I meet. I wonder, not a full day after these election results, “was it you?”, “what did you mark and slip in that ballot box?”, “in the face of my dejection, indeed the dejection of women of colour everywhere in Britain, do you even feel remorse?”

I am not trying to justify; I don’t write these words to explain or restore faith. After years of being unable to consider so personally the ramifications of racism, homophobia and sexism throughout my entire adult life, my conclusion is simple.

I have had enough. 

Years of quiet explaining. Years of being branded the expert in a tutorial room of white faces simply because our tutor had the audacity to utter the words Muslim, and brown. What I mean to say is, it is okay if you are tired. It is okay if you have had enough also. It is okay if the numbness has fled from your heart to your fingers. It’s okay if you shed a tear or two because, on a level that we already know, the majority demographic of this country could not understand that this is a scathing attack on your very identity.

I find myself wanting to grab people in the street, to stop them and frantically scream at them “were you aware? Did you know what you were doing to us?”. But I know I’d find no solace in their answer. The state of UK politics is resembling more and more the horrors that we laugh at in the USA. Donald trump congratulated our prime minster on his win today and that sentence alone is enough to make me recoil at our government. It says more than enough, does it not?

I tire of wasting energy debating. I tire of wasting my precious energy on resisting eye-rolls and screams and the urge to seethe and rage. But I worry still. My precious energy is funnelled now into a panic that has gripped me and won’t cease. I’m scared for the women of colour and the non-binary folks of colour around me. I’m scared that this day will bolster the barely restrained anger towards them. I’m scared for my disabled sisters and friends. I’m scared that they won’t have access to the things they need to simply exist in this world and I’m so scared for the future generations that my fingers shake as I write this. In all honesty, I hope that they condemn us. I hope that when they read about 2019, they purse their lips and utter ‘never again’. 

And yet I am selfish still. I want to somehow convey to them, to the vague indefinable future, that we tried. We really did try. It doesn’t matter though. This government panders to and is bolstered by the faces who we are so used to demonising us. The white, cis, male population who rejoiced on different levels of Britain’s class structure have not spared a thought for us. So, I will not spare a thought for them. I am dejected and I am sad and I am disappointed. I am sick of pretending otherwise. I did my bit, a part of me whines. I did my bit and it meant nothing because they still won. And it would be so easy to allow that feeling to rule me for decades. But I am reminded here I am not alone in my anguish. Thousands, millions of us, did our bit. And our bit was slapped across our face and told resolutely ‘no’. No, Britain says. We do not care that young black men are dying in the streets. No, Britain says. We do not care for our Muslim citizens, whose rights are treacherously being leached from them. No, Britain almost roars. We will not change and you are a fool to think it possible.

But I am reminded once more that thousands and millions of struggles began as this did. Resolutely, and in the face of a bitter ‘no’, thousands and millions rolled their eyes and declared “enough”. To the gleeful, whining child of Britain’s far right, I scoff. I am reminded of the good and the positivity that can thrive despite the badness. I am reminded that my existence has always been fraught with struggle and now the roots and squirming rats of this infestation has been thrust into the limelight. I am reminded that though I am not heard it does not mean I do not matter. If you are reading this and you are as dejected, sad and disappointed as I am - I want to remind you that you have done your bit and you can rest, for this is not over. Let them celebrate, for we will regroup. Let them believe, somehow, that the results of this election will mobilise anything but the masses of us who have had enough. Let them drop their guard for when they do, the good of this country will be waiting. Resolutely and determined. 

Take your time coming to terms with the violence of fascism and racism. Take your time to breathe through reawakened trauma of hatred and anger. Take your time and remember that this will not last. Slowly, slowly we are deconstructing a legacy built of colonialism and exploitation. Take the time to wonder at your own marvellousness, amidst marginalisation. And if you must excuse yourself from it, do so without guilt. Take your time and when you are ready, we will be waiting to fight them once more.