However, we are beginning to see what this new world looks like. For many, Brexit represented freedom. Yet one of the worrying repercussions of Brexit, which the experts didn’t anticipate, is the rise in hate crime and the open season on anything or anyone deemed ‘other’. Since the referendum I’ve heard phrases such as, ‘This doesn’t feel like modern Britain’, ‘A victory for xenophobia’, and ‘The revolt of the working class’. The same seems to be true of Donald Trump’s victory in the US, with David Duke, the former KKK leader, celebrating it as ‘one of the most exciting nights of my life’. I feel huge disappointment for those who wanted us to stay part of the EU, and fear what might happen to tolerance of the ‘other’ in the US – but, more importantly, I want to understand why these results went the way they did, shaking up the status quo in response to campaigns which focused on immigration and fear. The short answer is that both Brexit and Trump were symptoms of our failure to address the issues of fairness and inequality in our globalized economy.
The majority of us recognize that there are things greater than ourselves that can unite us: the world we share and our common humanity. We know that the need for understanding, connection and solidarity as one human family is more urgent now than ever. The greatest challenges of our time demand our cooperation. But how do we achieve this? When we have been separate for so long, change is not easy. But it is necessary. That’s where this book comes in.
Why me?
The daughter of Ghanaian immigrants, I was born and raised in the East End of London, home to a diverse range of people. The part of town that I grew up in, Walthamstow – or Wilcomestu, as the Anglo-Saxons called it – means ‘place of welcome’. Coincidentally, the Ghanaian greeting for hello is Awaakba, which also means ‘welcome’, so being welcoming is part of both my British and Ghanaian heritage – literally.
During my early years, Walthamstow more or less lived up to its name. We had the longest street market in Europe, where you could get anything from anywhere. The older generation of market stall-holders were mainly white working-class survivors of the Second World War. They were community-minded, and would call out to you if they knew your mum, chucking you an apple or a bag of sweets from their stall. My school was like a blue-collar version of the UN and proclaimed the belief that diversity was an asset. All the main religious holidays were celebrated – my Indian friends always brought in the best sweets on the Guru Nanak celebration. I was well liked and, being an inquisitive soul, I often found myself at my friends’ houses celebrating Shabbat, Eid and Diwali. My best friend, Levan Trong, was Chinese Vietnamese, so this meant free Mandarin lessons and amazing New Year parties.
This multicultural upbringing served as a great basis for my media career, paving the way for me to connect comfortably with people from all walks of life. After leaving school, I started an internship with Kiss FM, a vibrant, fresh radio station that looked to unite the young people of London through music. So wherever I went, it was a given for me that difference was not a problem. In fact, it was cool, and what London was all about. I carried this belief with me from radio to television, to my first presenting job. I was getting to do what I had enjoyed my entire life: meeting and talking to people from anywhere and everywhere.
In 2008 I moved to the US in the hope of finding that holy grail: the secret formula for ‘cracking America’. I wouldn’t say I ‘cracked’ America – rather, I made a small dent in her West and East Coast – but with the support and mentorship of Arianna Huffington, Donna Karan and Sarah Brown, I was able to sample a slice of the American Pie when they helped me to co-found a women’s network that was designed to facilitate this generation’s female leaders paying it forward to the next: Women: Inspiration and Enterprise (WIE) (www.wienetwork.co.uk).
I was also lucky enough to start working in American TV quite quickly, and one day, when I was filming in Las Vegas, a young sound assistant appeared on set. I noticed him straight away – and immediately felt uneasy around him. He hadn’t behaved aggressively towards me, but he was covered in tattoos. And I’m not talking David Beckham-style ink, but rather what looked like gang markings. I suspected he’d probably had a tough upbringing, possibly had a few run-ins with the law in his time. But had I really just painted this picture and gained this insight into another person’s life based on some tattoos and a bad ponytail? Yes, I had. And, regardless of the illogic of my assumptions, I began to feel intimidated.
As a woman of colour, I am all too aware of the problems that can be caused by stereotyping. In fact, being excluded as a result of being a woman, and being excluded because of your race, are two forms of discrimination I understand first-hand. So you might think that I, of all people, should know better, and should get over my discomfort and preconceived ideas and just have a conversation with this man. But in that moment I couldn’t do it. And in that moment I suddenly understood both sides of this enigma – and how our fear of the ‘other’ (whatever that ‘other’ is for you) subconsciously influences our behaviour. Whether we like it or not, ‘other-izing’ is something we all do, and ‘other-isms’ are something we all have.
I was about to quietly exclude this young man – not overtly (I’m far too polite and British for that), but subtly, which is even more soul-destroying: no eye contact and false politeness. Basically, I was prepared to pretend he wasn’t there so I could feel comfortable. But I’m happy to say that I didn’t. In that light-bulb moment, I chose to be my better self and to challenge some of my own limiting beliefs. Limiting beliefs that I didn’t even realize I had. So I went over nervously and did what usually comes very naturally to me: I spoke to him.
As it happens, he had indeed had a difficult start in life. However, he had also done a great deal of studying and self-development, and was now committed to making a better life for himself and was extremely excited about the possibility of a career as a soundman. He was brimming with enthusiasm and full of dreams – dreams that, I sensed, he secretly hoped wouldn’t be dashed by those prejudging him. Fortunately, our lead soundman had looked beyond his exterior and taken him on as an apprentice, but I couldn’t help but lament what it would take for him to rise above the limiting beliefs of others in order to achieve his full potential. He was truly a gentle soul, yet I could sense the unspoken burden he had to carry because of his appearance and the effect it had on people like me – he had to go out of his way to seem unthreatening, and to overcompensate with helpfulness.
Now, I grew up around men like this, so it was not as if I had never encountered someone like him, but I had never encountered someone like him in this context. I work in an industry that, in both its on- and off-screen talent, is not known for its diversity. I have been a very outspoken critic of this, yet I didn’t realize that I had become so accustomed to the lack of diversity at work that when the status quo was challenged, even I had to adjust.
I ended up having one of the most enlightening conversations of my life with this young man – and I realized that, had I not been able to put aside my issues around his appearance, I would have missed out on a defining moment that not only changed the way I think, but also enabled me to truly understand both sides of a problem that affects me personally. It made me wonder how many of us miss out on enriching, enlightening, even magical moments every day due to our failure to put aside our issues with external packaging.
Part of the reason so many of us are reluctant to honestly address our ism’s or voice our pain from being otherized is because it involves guilt and shame, two emotions most humans seek to avoid at all costs. Family issues that involve these emotions often go unspoken and unresolved, and the same is true for societal issues; but, as we know from our personal relationships, ignoring conflicts doesn’t dissolve them, it just allows them to fester, breed resentment and then sometimes explode. I still have a funny feeling in my stomach every time I recount this story, because to own the positive outcome, I have to accept that I went into the situation with prejudice. And this is not who I consider myself to be. But this belief is itself limited, because we are all hardwired with stereotypes – perceptions of what looks like safety and comfort, and what looks unfamiliar, something