When I was 11 years old, my dad took me to Nottingham Playhouse to see a play called ‘My Children, My Africa’. He had been given the theatre tickets through his work at a school for children with English as a second language. The play, written by Athol Fugard, focused on life in South Africa; the devastating impacts of colonialism; and the lived experiences of children in a system of apartheid. It was the first play I had seen, and it led me to ask many questions. I still have the theatre programme.

Listening to people’s stories can help to ‘stimulate empathy, develop dialogue, and create connecting bonds with others’ (Plummer, online, np.). A familiar response in the anti-racism development sessions I facilitate is that it is powerful to hear the lived experience, and that “we need to hear more”; and whilst I don’t disagree, I have questions.

It is true that ‘lived experience’ can act as a lever to move people to change, but how often is ‘the lived experience’ laid bare without action? We hear stories of racism, discrimination and oppression, we express shock, sadness or anger, but what do we actually do? Lived experiences need to be handled with care, with caution and with sincerity. When we ask to hear the lived experience, we must also ask ourselves why; what will we do once we inherit these stories? how will we move beyond listening? how do we ensure that we are not merely passengers in picking over people’s hurt? It is important to keep listening, but we also have a moral obligation to make sure that what we hear is used to motivate self-work. Inaction, especially in relation to hearing someone’s truth is an expression of acquiescence, as Layla Saad reminds us “white apathy lacks aggression, but it is deadly in its passivity” (Saad, 2020, p.106).

I know that over the years I have made mistakes in my anti-racist journey. I have centred myself; I have felt the fragility rise as I have taken things personally, I have tried to position myself in white exceptionalism ‘I am not like those white people’. However, I keep learning, I keep reflecting, I strive to do better, and I now feel able to sit with my discomfort and to be active in my anti-racist work. Nova Reid summarises the inertia of knowing there is a problem but not acting as, ‘conscious incompetence’. We do nothing because we ‘do not know what to do’, ‘don’t have the words’, ‘worry about upsetting people’. Making a commitment to ourselves to start our anti-racism journey begins with a willingness to educate ourselves and to work with compassion.

Most of what I have learned and still need to learn has been through Black and Brown scholars. I stand on the shoulders of these giants. It has taken a long time to get where I am in my anti-racism journey, and I am still learning.  My approach then is to encourage courage, both in myself and in others. Anti-racism is not about repeating the slogans, regurgitating the concepts that permeate Instagram and Twitter; it is not about clicking ‘like’ on anti-racist social media posts. It involves showing up. Being present and working in solidarity with the intention to create more space for people of colour. Showing up is being the person that asks, what are the implications of this for our colleagues and students of colour? It is by making sure we avoid the pitfalls of racialised fragility and believe people when they tell us their experiences of racism. I know that I am a work in progress, we all are, we are all becoming. I encourage you to be courageous and to quote Nova Reid, ‘get curious’. Ask yourself what are the stories you have heard and how will you act?

I encourage you to follow Layla F. Saad’s advice: ‘Uphold your commitments to living your life with integrity for your anti-racist values. Live these commitments daily’.

Dr Tamsin Bowers-Brown is Director of the Office for Institutional Equity at Leeds Trinity University.

Suggested further reading:

Nova Reid (2021) The Good Ally

Layla F. Saad (2020) Me and White Supremacy