Article
Comment
Community
Race
3 min read

Racism is back on the streets

A ring-pull moment unleashes violence, what can be done?

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Rioters confront police, one wearing a sinister Union Jack mask

Racist violence is back on the streets of Britain. Some say it never went away in the first place. Never mind that we have just had our first brown Prime Minister or that we have the most diverse cabinet in history. Just listen to the chants on the streets, watch a viral video of a lone black or Asian man being kicked to the ground by a gang of white men, or read the graffiti on the sides of hotels housing asylum-seekers who fled the Taliban because they dared to help the British army. Talk to those who feel afraid - most will agree: racist violence is back and it is unacceptable.  

The riots on the streets of cities around the UK brings back all too painfully for me the memory of those dark corners of my school yard where I was trapped by bullies throwing insults and punches in my direction, just because my skin colour was different. Now once again, I, along with my friends and family, and all communities of colour, are beginning to think twice before we leave our homes or walk down our streets.  

Back when I was just that kid in the playground, I once opened a can of cola that, unbeknown to me, had been shaken vigorously. As I heard the crack of the ring pull, I was immediately drenched by a fountain of black sugary liquid and an eruption of cruel laughter. That humiliating event of my childhood perhaps offers an insight into what is going on in the UK right now: the tragic incident on Hart Road in Southport where three young girls were murdered was the ring-pull moment that has unleashed the bottled-up frustration of disaffected people around the country – a frustration which has been deliberately and openly stirred up through divisive rhetoric over many years.  

Cultural Christians are more unsympathetic to asylum-seekers than any other group of immigrants.

It is not only the rioters who are to blame for this wave of violence. We must also hold accountable those who have been shaking the can. Those who have stirred up anti-immigration sentiment for personal gain, spreading lies and misinformation. Those who have tried to win votes and build careers and influence or grab headlines by scapegoating those who have lost everything and sought sanctuary in the UK. Those who have not questioned as we have drained resources out of schools, cut youth services and failed to provide affordable housing or realistic job prospects. Those who have assimilated a hostility towards asylum-seekers.  

Sadly, the can has also been shaken by some who call themselves Christians. Recent protesters in London have been heard using anti-Islamic rhetoric alongside their chants that “Christ is King”. A small number of Christian influencers have consistently contributed to the anti-immigration stance and undermined the importance of diversity and multiculturalism.  Data from the Faith and Religion thinktank Theos reveals that cultural Christians are more unsympathetic to asylum-seekers than any other group of immigrants. This despite all the incredible amount the church in the UK has done to lead the way in the welcome of new arrivals from Hong Kong, Afghanistan, Syria and Ukraine.  More poignantly, the hostility stands in stark contrast to the Christian virtue of hospitality that permeates every book of the Bible, and every moment of Jesus’ life and teaching.  

Racism is unacceptable, and there is a part for all of us to play in ensuring that this message is heard loud and clear. For a start we can refuse to turn a blind eye and pretend it is nothing to do with us. We can challenge anti-immigrant rhetoric.  We can counter misinformation with truth. We can choose to deescalate violence and defend those who have become targets and clamp down on those who stir up hate. We can show support for all those who are seeking to keep the peace, and we can choose to foster a more inclusive, generous and compassionate society every day with our words and actions.  

Article
Comment
Sport
5 min read

What’s Simone Biles doing today?

How to live with winning and losing.

Juila is a writer and social justice advocate. 

A gold medallist bites her medal.
Simone's gold medal moment.
@simonebiles

I wonder about what Simone Biles is doing today. She is one of the many athletes whose Paris 2024 was about more than gold; it was about redemption. Now the Games are over, what happens to their restoration story?  

The narrative about redemption seemed to dominate the headlines and linger in post-event interviews. Some Olympians came to the Games seeking it. Gymnast Rhys McClenaghan was tipped for gold in Tokyo 2020 but stumbled on the pommel horse, finishing in seventh place. In France, he climbed to the top of the podium.  

Others completed a fall and rise within the two weeks themselves. Sprinter Jeremiah Azu had a faltering beginning to the Games, disqualified for a false start in the individual 100m heat. Just six days later he was clutching a bronze medal for the relay.  

Then there are those like taekwondo athlete, Jade Jones, who also laboured for years and gave their all – but didn’t get the payoff that they sought. What does the story mean when it is unfulfilled? And when the Games are over, how do people live with winning and losing?  

Into our messy, maybe frightening, sometimes ordinary, lives, we love a redemption story to brighten and neaten things up. 

After years of professional procrastination, a few months ago I finally took the plunge and joined LinkedIn. An impressive feat, I know. It was driven by practicality; I was finishing a job as a climate policy advocate and making the leap into consultancy. But I’ve been fascinated to discover how people in my community, and millions of others, are sharing tender and vulnerable ideas and thoughts in this social workspace. They are coming with questions – what does success look like? How are you navigating your purpose in the day to day? What world do you want your children to inherit? – and gentle ideas about their answers.  

People are asking about and reflecting on how to navigate winning, and losing, and living in the murky space in between.  

This feels striking because one of the other prevalent stories many of us believe, maybe unconsciously, is that life will generally be good and any setbacks are the exception. Growing up in the Nineties the message seemed to be: the world is your oyster if you work for it. Put in the effort, and the losses will be few and the trajectory will be up.  

But the last few years in particular – economic volatility, growing exposure of deep inequalities, the worsening climate crisis – hammer home that this is not reliably the case. No matter how much effort you put in, we rarely live through one type of season at a time. Joy and suffering co-exist. And amongst the highs and the lows, there is a whole lot of everyday living. Show up at the desk, the school gate, the supermarket.   

Into our messy, maybe frightening, sometimes ordinary, lives, we love a redemption story to brighten and neaten things up.  

The sting of winning or losing is softened when we stop ascribing all meaning to them, and instead cast them in the context of a wider story. 

But part of the problem with many of the redemption tales we share is that they rely on the person themselves to deliver their own restoration. They’ve had (and are perhaps blamed for) a fall from grace, and now it’s up to them to find it within themselves – their physical, mental and emotional capacity – to achieve restoration. That’s a heavy weight to put on anyone’s shoulders (however broad they may be).  

And any redemption gained is fleeting. Medal winners talk about ‘gold medal syndrome’: the post-competition feeling of depression, loneliness and emptiness. For those athletes who’ve now headed home after fulfilling a salvation arc, is the emotional dip going to be even steeper, harder?  

Most of us won’t be Olympians, despite how expertly we discuss the diving scores every four years, but that sense of deflation after achieving a long-sought goal can be resonant. We’ve strived and risked ourselves for something, only to find the aftertaste is a bit flat. That new job is good but flawed. Winning that award doesn’t stop a rejection landing in the inbox the next day. The house renovations are already showing cracks. Winning and losing are both transient. A redemption made ourselves rarely satisfies or lasts. 

The sting of winning or losing is softened when we stop ascribing all meaning to them, and instead cast them in the context of a wider story. One that goes further than a single person or moment – a birth, a podium, a bonus. Such a story can speak beyond our own lives to the core challenges we face in the world: fairness into a broken economic system; peace instead of violence in our communities; flourishing, not escalating environmental crises.   

During my years of climate advocacy, I have sometimes envied colleagues working on more tightly defined topics with the possibility (only fulfilled through huge amounts of wisdom and graft, of course) of winning. Change a law, solve a problem. As the climate gets warmer and more unpredictable, it’s easy to have a sense that, at best, you are just making things a little less bad. The wins are in the context of a lot of disappointments, and a whole lot more grey space in between. 

But by being able to root my day to day in a bigger story, I can move forward with hope. Understanding our lives as part of an even greater narrative – the story of this world that God loves and sustains and restores – saves us from the pressure and heartache of trying to redeem our own lives. Instead, we can live them – the wins, the losses, and all the mundane moments in between – in light of that bigger story.  

Looking at the world through the lens of God’s redemption story helps us to stay clear-sighted: celebrating the successes and not make them our whole world; naming the problems and still acting with hope and grit. 

A redemption arc is a beautiful one. I want to hold onto that longing, but find it in a story that’s deeper, longer and richer than I can see. A story that lasts.