Brixton: Escaping Toxic Whiteness
Image Credit: Ernie Barnes’ 1976 painting The Sugar Shack, familiar to millions of TV viewers for its use during the closing credits of the ’70s sitcom Good Times as well as serving as the album cover of Marvin Gaye’s 1976 release I Want You.
As I write this, I feel the oppressive weight of nearly six decades of living in a dark body. And I’m tired. Down to the very fibres of my being, I am tired. I am mourning the U.S. Election results and the road to acceptance is brutal. An uphill battle. But I’ll get there.
The Thursday after the election I was supposed to travel to London to meet up with my God-daughter who is visiting from the States. One Wednesday, I was starting to feel the exhaustion that comes from disappointment and I messaged her saying I couldn’t face getting on that train and being surrounded by so many Others. You see, it’s a two way street.
At this time it feels imperative that the energy around me is familiar, I am and the thought of being in the unfamiliar was traumatising. Then I got an email promoting an Unapologetically Black event on Saturday and it felt like a lifeline. I pounced.
My God-daughter was fine with meeting up on Saturday after my event, so I just had to get through to Saturday when I could refill, because home girl was running on fumes. So much so, that a trip I have taken many times getting into Brixton felt foreign. I couldn’t find my bearings, and I randomly got off the train before my stop.
I was headed for the exit from the train station at Clapham Junction before I realised it was Victoria Station. So I had to go back to the platform and get on the next train heading to Victoria. This delay meant that I missed my connecting train to the Brixton area, so I ended up being 30-minutes late to the event that I needed so desperately. I sent the organisers a text that I was running late, and they held a space and space for me telling me to take my time and travel safely.
As I was walking down the stairs to leave Brixton Station, I passed an old black auntie slowly making her way up the platform stairs. She was moving slow. Our eyes met, and I smiled at her. I felt so much for her in that moment. I recognised her exhaustion because I’m living it. Then I stepped into the magical world of Brixton. A place where I blend in as just one of many in dark bodies. It felt nice. This strange combination of community inside of chaos. The energy was hectic, yet comforting.
I was nearly at the venue when I noticed another old black auntie walking towards me, moving even slower than the other auntie. I really looked at her. Her face was rugged. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes dulled. And, I recognised her exhaustion, because I’m living it. Then I wondered if some young person has noticed me, shuffling through Brixton Market, and I wondered if they recognised my exhaustion, because history seems to be repeating itself.
When I finally arrived at the event, it was like an oasis in a desert. I took a few minutes to settle myself, and I joined in the circle, feeling depleted but I also felt the beautiful energy of seven loving strangers who live in dark bodies. Family.
We drummed, we danced, we sang, we shared and we played together. The shared rhythm and laughter were like shots in the arm. About an hour in, I stopped feeling burdened as joy found her way back into my body.
I left my event with my cup running over. There is power in working through trauma with people who share it. There was a lightness to my gait as I strolled to the restaurant to meet my God-daughter, and when I was sitting face to face with her I had the capacity to hold that space with her and be fully present.
When I finally arrived back home and my head hit my pillow, I slept hard. Waking up this morning remnants of the exhaustion lingers, but now it’s mixed with a sense of purpose. I am committed to using my voice to counter the vitriolic rhetoric of the ism’s that flood society. In fact, I resign from society. It’s fucked and self-serving. I want and will do everything in my power to create community, using my voice through music, words and energy to serve humanity.
While I was sitting in the circle I had this thought … ‘don’t grow weary in well doing,’ and today I looked up the Bible Verse that this phrase is from:
Galatians 6:9 New King James Version
And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.
Follow this link to read the allegory I wrote based on this blog post: https://www.rainbowglo.co.uk/post/a-tree-standing-strong-in-the-mist-of-toxic-whiteness.
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