Abstract
Born of frustration with the need to constantly justify a ‘place at the table’, this edited collection brings together 21 voices to reflect upon what it means to identify as Black, Asian and minority ethnic in Britain (and beyond) in the 21st century. In so doing, it provides a vital contribution to our understanding of identities, belonging, exclusions, racisms and resistance at a moment of intensified racialised suspicion, scapegoating and hostility – or as Yates (p. 109) puts it ‘a period of rejection’. These experiences of success, struggle and partial acceptance are unsurprisingly eloquent, humorous and insightful – coming as they do from a talented group of individuals from the worlds of screen, poetry, comedy, literature, journalism, education and art. Central themes include those of language and (mis)representation, the multiplicity of intersectional identities and attachments, change and continuity of the (post)migrant experience, as well as recognition of progress and limits on such progress.
What binds these stylistically diverse essays together is the distinction, yet relation, between how we see ourselves and how we are seen. It is through such relations that these essays show how the doors of belonging may be pushed ajar, but are also often firmly shut. This message is conveyed in short and punchy chapters to reveal idiosyncratic minds and bodies variously growing up, working (or attempting to find work), having sex, adopting styles, being public figures and navigating the meaning of ‘home’. These, then, are tales that speak to the experience of being human, as Adewunmi articulates so well – to yearn for roots and a sense of value, to have material and sexual desires as well as ambition for better futures.
On occasion, the work is overtly political (e.g. Sahim on caste and anti-racism) and at other moments, the politics are revealed through more personal tales of everyday life and flights of imagination. As reviews on the book-sleeve reveal, those who share some of these experiences may find themselves nodding in agreement, while, at other moments, shaking their head in empathetic frustration and even anger. The book is also an education for those less exposed to these narratives (which as Chetty suggests still represents an absence), revealing the challenges faced by communities marginalised on the basis of assumptions around skin colour, migrant histories and racialised religions. Despite the complexity of the issues discussed, the writing is engaging and accessible enough for a broad audience. This broad appeal does not dilute its force or use within academia, however. This is a text that I am very keen for my own students to draw upon, to develop an understanding of the issues presented, to appreciate the value and liveliness of reflexive writing, but also to make sense of concepts with which we as human geographers are concerned. These include the lasting scars of empire (Sahim), whiteness and racial classification (Suleyman and Mahfouz), what it means to be othered (Godden), (mis)-translations across diasporic space (Yates) and that persistent question of ‘where are you really from?’ (Miss L). We also learn about the significance of everyday spaces as arenas of identity reflection such as the African barbershop (Ellams), but also spaces of hyper-exclusion including the excellent piece by Riz Ahmed on interrogation at the airport and film studio. The voices here, of course, are selective, but there is no claim for pure authenticity, nor do these stories feel distant. They feel deeply personal but also outward looking. They stake out a terrain for contestation and they need to be listened to and taken seriously.