Scotland is not this anti-racist utopia that we pretend it is

Less than ten years after its establishment, I was born in Edinburgh, to Nigerian parents. 

As a young child, I did not quite understand the social and political significance of this month. 

I did know that, as the only black child in my class in a North Edinburgh primary school, learning about Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, it made me feel seen. 

I was not yet armed with the knowledge that, although our skins shared the same colour, our experiences products of the same system of oppression by the Global North and our histories intertwined thousands of years before me, this was not my history. 

READ MORE: Fight against racism should begin at home 

It was, it is, the history of black and African Americans. It is American history. 
It was as a History student at the University of Edinburgh that I first began to understand what it means to exist in Scotland and, by extension the UK and the world, with a black body. 

It was only in my final year, as I started to find peace with my identity and nationality as a black Scottish woman that I could say British and Scottish history has been whitewashed.  A whitewashing that denies the atrocities of the colonial past and ignores the repercussions black people in Britain live with every single day. 

So, when I think about Black History Month now, I feel disengaged and frustrated by the madness that is going on around me. 

Why did it take me over twenty-two years to learn the streets of Glasgow – Archibald, Ingram, Glassford, Buchanan, the list goes on – are all plantation owners who profited from the Atlantic slave trade. 

The Race Riots of 1919 did not just happen in the port cities of England but 50 minutes away on the train from where I live now. 

Scotland is not this anti-racist utopia that we pretend it is, and sadly so do a lot of our leading organisations and charities. 

“Multiculturalism!” “Interculturalism!” - a roundabout way of avoiding the racism in this society and an opportunity to cash in on the celebratory elements of Black History Month without ruffling anyone’s feathers.

But they are ruffling mine. See, political blackness is not the one. Arguably it had a time and place but that is not now. 

The term people of colour applies to me but is a term I use sparingly. It does not quite encapsulate nor leave room for the nuances of black people and, especially in this month, the “of colour” community should be allies, not accomplices in the erasure of our voices. 

READ MORE: Why I love living in Edinburgh at Festival time 

In a similar strain, I take this same ruffling of my feathers to the companies, businesses and brands who use this month as an opportunity to cash in, with the hope that, by hosting a panel discussion with a combination of prominent black Brits, it will tick their diversity box and result in a consumer loyalty that they will not have to consider for another twelve months. Perhaps instead they should look internally and understand the complicity in the structures they uphold. 

I need our allies to acknowledge the realities, facts and histories of black people in Scotland. It feels difficult to say, acknowledge.

On one hand it feels like giving in, asking for permission or begging from the white slave master. It feels uncomfortable. Then I think back to my primary school and teenage selves who felt so unseen, and myself a few years before now, who does not want to be questioned or forced to explain herself and I think I need that acknowledgement because from that acknowledgement can come understanding, activism and change. 

I said my feelings are conflicted and they are. My simultaneous annoyance at the big businesses cashing in on our knowledge and experience also fill me with a sense of pride. Black history reminds me that it is a wonderful time to be Black. Seeing faces like mine celebrated and plastered across mainstream magazine covers, watching Stewart Kyasimire’s documentary Black and Scottish, seeing Dina Asher-Smith win three medals at a major world athletic championship, the first British person to ever do so, knowing nothing of their own life experiences but knowing first-hand what it means to exist in a system that has no investment in your success. 

I write this opinion piece from a literary festival, FLUPP, that takes place in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. They are not celebrating Black history month but are celebrating the contributions of Black women, as writers, artists and academics. 

I am left thinking a lot about those in the Black Scottish community, who all in their own ways are doing the exhausting work of challenging white supremacy. It may be difficult for you to consume or understand, but I do not really care. I implore with you that if you do anything this Black History month, acknowledge them.   

Tomiwa Folorunso is a Scotland-based freelance journalist.