October in the UK means three things: cold weather, being sick of Christmas before it’s even begun because they stock the supermarkets way too early and Black History Month.
Having embarked on a 30-day Instagram hiatus in September, spilling into Black History Month more than I had anticipated, I thought the lack of BHM spirit was my own fault, having removed myself from the online festivities. But when I did return to socials, it was as if it could have been any month at all. Outside of one post telling me where to eat Black-owned in London and another telling me what exhibits to visit, there really wasn’t anything else of note.
I asked my sister if they had been celebrating it at my niece’s school, the answer was no. I hadn’t seen any articles being commissioned at work or by the magazines I read – usually everyone is dying to get the Black perspective on things, but not this year it seems.
There are always those flying the flag, fighting the good fight… but even they were far and few between this year. Was it my algorithm? Was the real party happening in the streets? Or did it just feel like there was nothing to celebrate?
I asked my friend if he thought this year’s BHM had felt non-existent as well and he said: “I tried to think of something to write about that wasn’t about struggle.”
Another friend messaged me earlier to ask me if I’d heard about the Ghanaian boy – Javits Frimpong – who was chased and shot to death on the streets of the Bronx after only being in America for a year. I hadn’t… but at the same time, it’s all I ever hear.
The devastating number of Black people found hanging from trees in various states up and down America with no investigation necessary because there was “no foul play”. And it’s not just America. One of the biggest gripes people have with Black History Month, whether it’s being acknowledged or not, is the focus on Black American history: slavery, the Civil War… ever tragic, ever drenched in trauma.
It’s a point of contention that BHM doesn’t focus on anywhere else across the diaspora, centres trials and tribulations over joy and doesn’t highlight the vast lives we lived pre-colonialism. Don’t want to talk about America? Fine. Let’s bring it home.
The disturbing number of Black women found dead in bodies of water, the lynching of Professor Jason Arday leading to his suicide. Not to mention how the Oxford Union has decided to give the head of the lynch mob, Nathan Confas, a stage to spout his twisted eugenics rhetoric at what feels like at our expense. How about the two political leaders in this country – Nigel Farage and Rupert Lowe – whose racism and bigotry is the whole reason they get votes. Let’s talk about the King’s refusal to apologise for slavery. The dismissive conversations around reparations or returning artefacts to where they belong. Whether you think it would be an empty gesture or not – the complete absurdity at which the actions themselves are deemed absurd is demoralising. And unlike Black History Month, these attacks on our community are year-round.
So, without the privilege of switching off the other eleven months of the year, by the time October rolls around, sometimes it’s hard to rise to the occasion. Of course, I’ll try the best Black-owned restaurants in London. Got a free Saturday? Of course, I’d love to go and see an exhibit with you and feel inspired and uplifted for an afternoon. The Black community has always been great at sharing our joy and creativity with the world – especially in times of adversity – but smiling through the pain is harder to do when the shadow our history casts still stops us from seeing the light.
The lack of enthusiasm for this year’s Black History Month seems to extend past my own feelings and my niece’s primary school: there was a time when creators would be posting collaborations with brands and businesses, promoting events and rousing awareness, but that too has been amiss on my timeline.
If Black History Month was more than just a footnote in the curriculum and if more people accepted there is no history without Black history, October wouldn’t consistently feel like a let down: a second-rate awareness month where companies and governments make a meagre attempt – if any attempt at all – at placating the community this country was built on the backs of.
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