Not Too Poetry

Blog for BHM

‘You’re not enough of an ally.’

That was the first thought that ran through my head when I read the email. Our staff network, Spectrum, was asking for panelists for a discussion on allyship. My reaction was a reflection of years of living oblivious of anything outside my very white upbringing. Growing up in London in the 60’s and 70’s was focused more on family and immediate neighbours; the child of first-generation suburbanites with extended family in Southwark and Lewisham, a vegetable patch in the back garden, a dad with three jobs (two of which involved his kids) – privilege wasn’t in our vocabulary. Back then I could count my close friends who weren’t white on one finger.

I’m now in my 60s and I’ve lived and worked in London all my life. I now live in a borough where over 170 languages are spoken. I worship at Redemmer Church, Ealing, where over 40 nationalities are represented. In my world native white Londoners are a minority group, but an influential one. And I’m more conscious than ever of my privilege and this extends beyond my white skin: male, heterosexual, able-bodied, using my native language, having family in the same city, plus relative economic advantages. Much of that is a world away from those I call my friends.

This came into sharp focus after the murder of George Floyd and the subsequent conversations with some friends who I discovered had sent their son to classes on how to behave when stopped by the police, just because of his age and race. And then hearing from them that the fact that I had been a police officer had been a real hurdle for them before they got to know me. I remember policing in Lewisham and Deptford in the 80s and I had to acknowledge that their response had not been unreasonable.

I went on to attend a series of workshops where I heard more stories of what life is like in my home city for those of a different skin colour to mine. And the killer question I walked away with was – “Who do you invite to your table?”

You see it’s not enough to be neutral on the topic of race, or to simply be ‘friendly’ to those who are different. I had to ask myself, had I subconsciously held back from building deep friendships with those who don’t share my privileges?

It’s Black History Month and if you look anything like me, I encourage you to take the opportunity to ask yourself some uncomfortable questions and to start a conversation across the table.

Who do you eat with?

Who do you invite as a lunch time guest?
Who do you embrace, give space to?
With all due respect, do you connect?
Who do you pick for your table?

Who do you assign more of your time to?
With whom do you breakfast and banquet?
With whom do you offer good food’s aroma,
give space on a cramped picnic blanket?

Do you reach beyond your old outer markers,
beyond your community sphere?
Do you risk the discomfort of social faux pas
or play safe and stick to your peers?

Do you feast with a loud and generous heart,
starting early and finishing late?
Do you share your time, taking your time,
giving with God-given grace?

With whom do you share a long, good meal?
Who are you a good friend to?
Who do you eat with, laugh and be real with?
Tell me – who do you pick for your table?