Читать книгу Diversify: A fierce, accessible, empowering guide to why a more open society means a more successful one - June Sarpong, June Sarpong - Страница 11
Оглавление‘I refuse to allow any man-made differences to separate me from any other human beings.’
Maya Angelou
A black male child growing up in America or Europe will, by the time he reaches school, already have an understanding that he is different from the majority. Whether it’s the images he sees in the media, or family members attempting to prepare him for the exclusion he’s likely to experience outside the home, he will know that the rules are not the same for him and boys that look like him. In many cases, he will be told that anything is possible, but that he has to be twice as good and work twice as hard as his white counterparts in order to succeed and be worthy of acceptance. Many will take this message on board and strive for academic excellence in a pressured education system. Others, seeing black role models in sport, music, or some other art form, will pursue a career in that field, hoping that their talent (as has been the case with stars such as Jay-Z, Usain Bolt, Floyd Mayweather, Stormzy and Tinie Tempah) will enable them to overcome discrimination and other obstacles to success.
The men in my family experienced this first-hand. My father was gifted and well educated as a child and rose to become somebody of stature in his native Ghana, but when he arrived in Britain as an immigrant in the 1980s he had to start afresh. A political coup in Ghana meant that he had lost his position and his finances. He still had his education and experience, though, which surely would be enough for him to make a new life for himself and his family? Unfortunately not. In 1980s Britain, his thick foreign accent and skin colour meant he was visibly and audibly different from what employers assumed was right for a job in banking. There was an unwritten understanding that non-white migrants from commonwealth countries could settle in the UK to do menial or low-paid jobs that indigenous people didn’t want to do. Immigrants like my father, regardless of education and career experience, were not going to be allowed to just parachute into middle-class occupations like banking.
It soon became clear to my father that Britain was not going to be the land of opportunity he had first hoped, so he decided to take his talents and my brother to America. America did provide more opportunities, and Dad was able to secure a job in banking and then eventually launch his own successful real-estate and construction company. Perhaps America, despite its poorer record on race relations, was more amenable than the UK to the idea of social mobility for an African man.
Starting again for the second time in America was not easy, but Sam Sarpong Sr thrived against insurmountable odds and built a very comfortable upper-middle-class life, and I can’t help but beam with pride when I look at the journey he has made. A few years ago I made a pilgrimage to the rural village he was raised in, and I couldn’t fully comprehend the vast leap from where my father started in life to where he now resides. I doubt I would have had the same level of grit and strength to overcome such odds.
Life wasn’t all smooth sailing for my brother, Sam Sarpong Jr, either. African in parentage, British by birth, and raised in America – as you can imagine, he didn’t fit neatly into any particular category. As an actor/entertainer, my brother shared the desire for the visible signs of affluence – luxury cars, designer clothes, and beautiful women. However, as flamboyant as he was, during one of my visits to America I saw my brother become humble pretty fast. Driving through LA in one such luxury car, Sam was pulled over by the police. This being a regular occurrence for black men in America, Sam had his contrite responses memorized: ‘Yes sir, no sir, sorry officer,’ etc.
Witnessing this exchange and knowing the type of person Sam was, I felt upset and indignant – especially as he had done nothing wrong and there appeared to be no valid reason for the stop. My friend and mentor Baroness Margaret McDonagh – white and well spoken – was also with us in the car. As Sam delivered his usual routine, Margaret and I weren’t so agreeable, as this is not something either of us are accustomed to. We demanded the officer’s badge number and a detailed explanation as to why we were stopped. The police officer seemed taken aback, as he hadn’t expected to be met by two British women, and his tone changed immediately to become less threatening and more like a public servant. We received the badge number but no valid reason for why we were pulled over.
With US police officers being fully armed, black men in the US have to humble themselves to an almost humiliating degree to ensure their survival each time they encounter law enforcement. Regardless of the outcome of these exchanges, they serve as an overt reminder to all young black men that, whatever your achievements, aspirations, or character, you can be brought down to the level of a criminal at any time. Male pride makes this a difficult reality to live with and can generate anger in the most excluded and vulnerable black men. However, anger and resentment at authority are costly emotions that black men can ill afford in Western society. In both the UK and the US, it’s an uncomfortable truth that in spite of claims of equality and calls for fair treatment, young black men continue to be targeted for no other reason than the colour of their skin.
These stories show just how difficult it is for black men – even those of education and affluence – to negotiate life in the UK and US as an ‘other’. Their colour is always the first thing people see. But where did this obsession with race and skin colour come from? And why have we allowed it to become such a divisive and alienating factor in our society? These are fundamental questions that scientists may now be able to answer for us. And perhaps, by answering them, we can tear them down.
The false social construct of race
Anthropologist Nina Jablonski has conducted extensive studies into this issue from her research lab at Pennsylvania State University. I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with Jablonski and listen to her speak about the origins of the social construct of race, and her findings are fascinating. In her book, Living Color: The Biological and Social Meaning of Skin Color,* Jablonski investigates ‘the social history of skin color from prehistory to the present’ and finds that, biologically, ‘race’ simply does not exist. In a separate article she states, ‘Despite ever more genetic evidence confirming the nonexistence of races, beliefs in the inherent superiority and inferiority of people remain part of the modern world,’† and she goes on to explain that the most influential ideas on the formation of historic racism came from just one man:
The philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) was the first person to classify people into fixed races according to skin color. To him and his followers, skin color was equated with character. People of darker-colored races were inferior and destined to serve those of lighter-colored races. Kant’s ideas about color, race, and character achieved wide and lasting acceptance because his writings were widely circulated, his reputation good, and his audience naïve. The ‘color meme’ was born. The linking of blackness with otherness and inferiority was one of the most powerful and destructive intellectual constructs of all time. Views on the inherent superiority and inferiority of races were readily embraced by the intelligentsia of Western Europe and eventually by the general populace because they supported existing stereotypes.*
It’s hard to overstate the damage this kind of thinking has done over the centuries.
Geneticist Spencer Wells, founder of The Genographic Project and author of The Journey of Man,† goes even deeper, using the science of DNA to tell a similar story to Jablonski – that ‘we are all one people’.‡ By analysing DNA from people in all corners of the world, Wells and his team discovered that all humans alive today are descended from a single man (Y-chromosomal Adam), who lived in Africa around 60,000–90,000 years ago, and from a single woman (mitochondrial Eve), who lived in Africa approximately 150,000 years ago.§ (It’s a quirk of our genetic evolution that our two most common recent ancestors did not have to live at the same time.)
Due to this common ancestry, the human genetic code, or genome, is 99.9 per cent identical, which suggests that the 0.1 per cent remainder that is responsible for our individual physical differences – skin colour, eye colour, hair colour and texture, etc – has primarily been caused by environmental factors. Like Jablonski, Wells believes our early ancestors embarked on their first epic journey out of Africa in search of food, which led them to gradually scatter across the Earth. Wells explains that the physical appearance of these early travellers changed depending on which part of the world they migrated to. Those who ended up in Europe – in the northern hemisphere – received less sunlight, so their bodies did not need to produce as much melanin (a natural-forming skin pigment that protects from the sun’s ultraviolet rays), and so they developed lighter skin and straighter hair to match their new cold conditions. The same is true for other communities around the world whose appearance adapted to match their new environment. And so our physical differences – once just mutations of survival – became embedded in our DNA, to be passed down through the generations for millennia.
Wells’s deep understanding of human DNA has also influenced his views on humanity and the false social construct of race. In an interview with the UK’s Independent newspaper, he commented: ‘It’s worth getting the message out, that we are related to one another, that we are much more closely related genetically than people may suspect from glancing around and looking at these surface features that distinguish us … Race, in terms of deep-seated biological differences, doesn’t exist scientifically.’
Many of us have instinctively felt and argued for a long time that the concept of ‘race’ is a misleading human construct used to divide us, but it’s reassuring to now have the science to back this up. If more of us understood the epic voyage that our early ancestors embarked upon, which led to the rich diversity we see around us today, perhaps we wouldn’t be so fixated on race. Indeed, we really are all one, and that oneness began in Africa.
The daily reality
Sadly, this understanding hasn’t yet reached everyone. Even when young black men play by the ‘rules’ today, some find that many of the people they come across are still unable to see their academic and career achievements, but have less difficulty seeing their skin colour. Regardless of their personal journey, young black men learn to take the stop-and-searches in their stride (after all, it’s nothing new), as long as it results in their walking away without being too delayed (or physically wounded, as we’ve seen in the US with the rise of police brutality). At work, he is frustrated with his lack of progress in relation to his contribution, although he is careful in office environments to mask his feelings for fear of being viewed as ‘angry’, ‘threatening’, or potentially violent. And he may have qualifications but is unable to get a foothold in the sector he has trained for, or has been given an opportunity and is expected to feel grateful while he remains at entry level and is surpassed by other colleagues, some of whom may be less qualified.
This is the reality for young black men, although it’s fair to say that being prepared for the possibility of rejection on account of your colour from an early age does foster determination and can lead to success, as it forces one to develop astounding levels of resilience. Like diamonds, this pressurized environment can produce spectacular gems, such as Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King, Muhammad Ali, Colin Powell, Barack Obama, Kofi Annan, Sir David Adjaye, Ozwald Boateng OBE and many of the great men of colour who have helped shape our world for the better. However, it can also cause deep-rooted feelings of inferiority and inadequacy. The sense of never fully being accepted doesn’t go away, especially as it is reinforced daily, which continuously erodes a sense of belonging and self-worth.
For some black men, this can result in the rejection of education and the world of work, and the pursuit of validation from a subculture where material possessions are valued above those things deemed further out of reach, such as employment and schooling. This route can indeed bring more immediate rewards than academia and employment, where rejection will already have been experienced, but it stands in the way of true social mobility.
Young males in poorer black communities can also fall prey to the trappings of a prescribed form of masculinity that thrives in these subcultures: one in which using violence to defend your reputation is seen as acceptable and sometimes necessary. Men in these environments – gangs, particularly – are often considered weak by their peers if they fail to defend their honour or respond to a slight, the consequences of which can be disastrous. Ironically, the ability to reason oneself out of conflict or to avoid it altogether would be applauded outside of the subculture, but is often seen within the community as cowardice. And the rewards within the subculture – respect, and attractiveness to women – are hard to refuse, especially if escaping the subculture is not seen as a possibility, which makes it pretty difficult to bring about a change in behaviour.
The revolving door
For many black men, this route leads to only one destination: in America especially there is a revolving door from the classroom to the prison cell. Mass incarceration has reached epic proportions, with one in three black men imprisoned at some point during their lives.* This has big implications for their futures; the ramifications of a criminal record can be catastrophic for employment prospects and, once the step along the criminal justice path has been taken, it’s near impossible to turn back.
When it comes to the American criminal justice system, the odds are stacked against you if you are black. A 2016 report by The National Registry of Exonerations found that 47% of all wrongful convictions involved black defendants. The figures for serious crimes such as murder show that black defendants account for 40% of those convicted, but 50% of those wrongfully convicted (in comparison to whites, who account for 36 percent of those wrongfully convicted for murder). It’s a similar picture with sexual assault: 59% of all exonerees were black defendants, compared with 34% for white defendants†.
As well as falling victim to police brutality disproportionately, US blacks are also more likely to be victims of police misconduct, such as ‘hiding evidence, tampering with witnesses or perjury’. This may also have contributed to the aforementioned racial disparity; the report concluded that black defendants accounted for 76% of wrongful murder convictions where police misconduct was involved, in comparison to 63% of white exonerees*.
50%: the percentage by which US prison populations would decline if African Americans and Hispanics were incarcerated in the same proportion as white people.†
Ava DuVernay’s powerful BAFTA-winning Netflix documentary 13th chronicles how the abolition of slavery and the subsequent exploitation of the 13th Amendment, which deemed it unconstitutional to hold a person as a slave, have led to more black men being locked up now than there ever were during slavery. On the surface, the 13th Amendment seemed honourable and straightforward enough. But there was a loophole that excluded ‘criminals’, and so began the hyper-criminalization of the black male as a means of maintaining the free labour that had been so easily available during the years of slavery. Fast forward to today, and this loophole has morphed to fit the times: from the Jim Crow laws of segregation, to mandatory sentencing and Nixon’s ‘war on drugs’, Reagan’s ‘war on crime’, and, more recently, Clinton’s ‘Three-Strikes Law’; 150 years of systematic discriminatory policy-making has led us to the black male mass-incarceration epidemic in the US today.
American lawyer and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative Bryan Stevenson has spent the best part of three decades fighting to highlight the plight of those caught in the crosshairs of the US criminal justice system, and he argues that at the crux of the problem is how we treat the marginalized and dispossessed:
Proximity has taught me some basic and humbling truths, including this vital lesson: each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavoured, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned.*
Stevenson also states that the criminal justice system unfairly favours those who are ‘rich and guilty’ over those who are ‘poor and innocent’ – after all, the poor can’t afford a good defence lawyer. It seems prison-for-profit is a very lucrative business, and is now a booming industry – it pays to send people to prison. One of the final acts of the Obama administration was to issue a memo to bring an end to the Justice Department’s reliance on private prisons (which now account for approximately 18 per cent of US federal prisons – a figure that is steadily increasing). The memo, issued by former Deputy Attorney General Sally Yates, cited more ‘safety and security incidents’ in private prisons than public ones as the reason for this change in policy. Unfortunately, a month after Trump took the Oval Office his Attorney General, Jeff Sessions, rescinded this and announced a reinstatement of private prisons.
This, coupled with the fact that a whopping 90–95 per cent of prisoners accept a plea bargain and never go to trial,† has created a system where poor people of colour are disproportionately incarcerated. This is not only ethically wrong, but also in the long term it is economically insane. To discard one-third of all black males when they are in their prime and most able to contribute to society is a cataclysmic dent in the moral, social, and economic fabric of America.
Yes, we can!
Clearly, this is by no means the story of every black male. The majority will play by rules that are stacked against them and will seek inclusion, complete their education, and make sacrifices in order to achieve this by going the extra mile, conforming to a mainstream culture, and focusing on presenting an acceptable and ‘unthreatening’ outward appearance, harbouring dreams that this will help people to focus on the content of their character as opposed to their colour.
Having lived in America for eight years, I consider it my second home – and a paradox. In one country, we see dreams and aspirations realised that would be impossible anywhere else. But we also see that the fear and division present at the birth of the nation remains.
For me, the election of the first African American president was a watershed in American and global history akin to the election of Nelson Mandela. I count myself privileged to have played a small civic part in the Obama election campaign, canvassing on the eve of the election in Virginia – a deep red Republican state that had not been blue since Lyndon B Johnson’s (LBJ) victory in 1964. And even though LBJ won the state back then, many white residents in Virginia were against his landmark civil rights legislation and had wanted to keep segregation after that point. Virginia would never again be a true-blue state. Or so it seemed.
I had flown out to Virginia with my friends, Labour party strategists Margaret McDonagh and Anji Hunter. At campaign headquarters, I was struck by an elderly white gentleman whose face was badly bruised. Feeling concerned, I walked over to check if he was okay and asked how he had injured himself. With a voice full of emotion, this southern gentleman revealed to me that he was in his nineties and owned a farm that had been in his family for generations. He had fallen over a few days before and had hurt his face on a rake. But, against doctor’s orders, he was determined to come and support the Obama campaign efforts.
He explained to me how, as a young man, he had been an ardent segregationist and saw this as a route to some sort of redemption. He never thought he would live to see an African American President, but felt he needed to actively support Obama in order to right some of the wrong doings of his past. After speaking to this gentleman, I felt something momentous was about to happen. That evening, Margaret and I attended the final Obama rally in Virginia. It was a cool, crisp night and the atmosphere was electric as we all sensed history was about to be made.
The then Senator Obama had just lost his grandmother, who had died that day in Hawaii, so he was flown in by helicopter to the rally. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as he paid homage to his grandmother, Toot, and the vital role she played in helping to shape him as a man. He went on to explain the origins of his campaign slogan, ‘Fired Up & Ready To Go’, which we all were as we left this poignantly magical evening.
The next day, Margaret, Anji and I watched the election results at the home of legendary Democratic pollster and close Clinton confidant Stan Greenberg. His DC townhouse was heaving with guests, many of whom were close allies of the Clintons.
Everyone was jubilant as the results started coming in and it began looking like victory was on the horizon. Once Ohio was called, we knew it was game over. Everyone began cheering – then, we all sat in silence as we watched the footage of the victorious Obamas and Bidens take the stage in Grant Park Chicago, with Oprah and Jesse Jackson shedding tears of joy in the crowd.
As Anji, Margaret and I left Stan Greenberg’s house, we were met with cheering and dancing in the streets of DC. Cars were beeping their horns, Obama 2008 signs were everywhere, and a joyful crowd was roaring ‘Yes We Can’. The atmosphere was like the homecoming of a winning Superbowl team x10. America was proud of itself because, in that moment, it had chosen to look beyond its complex issues with race and chosen ‘change’ and ‘hope’ over the status quo. In doing so, they had done something that, in all likelihood, no other Western country would have been capable of at the time. This is the dream personified by the Obama presidency, which has been both an inspiration and a post-racial challenge to young black males everywhere. If Obama can do it, why can’t you?
In the UK, this is certainly easier said than done. A recent study conducted as part of a BBC documentary hosted by British actor David Harewood examined the probability of the UK ever having a black prime minister. Using empirical evidence to project how likely it would be for male children from different backgrounds to make it to the nation’s highest electoral office, the findings were shocking, to say the least. Statistically, a black child born in the UK has a 1 in 14 million chance of becoming prime minister, while a white child has a 1 in 1.4 million chance, and a white child with a public school (not state-funded) education and a degree from Oxford University has a 1 in 200,000 chance.* What this effectively means is that we are severely restricting the talent pool for political leadership, and rebirthing the same ideas and thought patterns again and again.
This presents numerous issues, perhaps the most concerning being that by completely excluding ‘other’ talent pools from the decision-making process, the changes that many of us seek become even more unlikely. With few exceptions, it seems that whichever side of the political aisle they sit on, most of the leaders available to us have all trodden the same path and share a similar worldview. It seems pretty clear that in order for there to be sustainable change, the people leading us need to change, too. But in order for this to happen, the education and employment opportunities for young black men need to be firmly put in place, as well as an atmosphere of real, attainable aspiration – in contrast to what, currently, is often an atmosphere of poverty and lack of opportunity.
Twice as likely: the Pew Research Center in the US finds that African Americans are twice as likely to be in poverty as white people.
Because in reality, regardless of the data suggesting that the odds are heavily stacked against black men becoming president or prime minister, the truth is that most don’t want to anyway. The dreams and aspirations of black males are no different to the dreams and aspirations of men in general – the difference is that many will have a shortage of realistic role models in the media or within their own families, who successfully do what is ‘expected’ of a man (i.e. support himself and his family), are supported by the education system, and are able to work hard, attain the right training or qualifications, prove the right to ‘belong’, and be rewarded accordingly. For the ambitious, hard-working black male, this unlevel playing field can be extremely demoralizing. He must ask himself: am I the problem? Is it my colour, or am I simply not good enough? Is he one of those men with a chip on their shoulder, imagining prejudice?
Nina Jablonski believes that a new form of education and honest dialogue is needed to turn back this tide of hundreds of years of misunderstanding and mistrust, and I wholeheartedly agree. She argues that endemic racism is holding back not just black people, but the whole of society:
Erroneous and deep-seated notions about race persist because we are scared to discuss misconceptions about colour and race in our classrooms and boardrooms. Paranoia about race born of political correctness has led to the perpetuation of misconceptions about colour and race, the cloaking of discriminatory behaviour and language, and the persistence of racism. Racism is probably humanity’s single biggest impediment to human achievement.*
Racism is an ancient problem and, thankfully, society has moved on in the last century. We now have anti-discrimination policies and legislation in place, and yet clearly these are not doing enough. The stats prove that a young black man still rarely sees himself reflected in any positions of seniority. He can only hope that things will be better for his son – a hope he believes in as things are certainly better for him than they were for his father. But hope may not be enough. Nina Jablonski is not alone in demanding real, tangible change. ‘Race at the Top’, a comprehensive study by Race for Opportunity on black, Asian and minority ethnic (BAME) representation in leadership in UK business, concluded that there had been virtually no ethnicity change in top management positions in British business in the five years between 2007 and 2012.* In a letter to the British government, Sandra Kerr – the CEO of Race for Opportunity – urged them to deal with this problem as a matter of urgency before it was too late:
By 2051, one in five people in the UK will be from an ethnic minority background, representing a scale of consumer spending and political voting power that business and government alike cannot afford to ignore. The gap must not be allowed to widen further, but without action little will change. I am calling on government for a review to amplify understanding around the barriers BAME employees face in reaching management positions, and for two simple words – ‘and race’ – to be added to the UK Corporate Governance Code. We urgently need this to happen if we are to ensure that we don’t pass the point of no return.†
94.5%: the percentage of police officers in England and Wales who are white*.
If governments heed such stark warnings, if we can undo the centuries of false racial programming and teach our children the scientific truth of our common ancestry and foster a wealth of role models for young black men at home and in the media, then maybe, just maybe, the achievements of men like Barack Obama can become the standard, rather than the exception to the rule.
ACTION POINT: Watch Ava DuVernay’s documentary, 13th
DISCUSSION POINT: Should positive discrimination be employed to ensure ethnic minorities are represented proportionally in the police service and justice system?
