Archive for the ‘Sport’ Category


racism in a modern age.

June 20, 2010

I just got home from my nan’s.  For the second part of my journey, I took the number 6 from town to Kingswood, and while I was on the bus, a group of Somali women were having a conversation.  Suddenly, an English woman (I’m guessing about 55 years old; she was certainly older than my mother, who is 50) turns around and yells at them “Would you please shut up?!?!” After everyone looks up, shocked, she continues her diatribe: “Natter natter (with hand gesture), shut the fuck up or get off the bus.”  The women began to protest, but the woman just got angrier and nastier, and the Somali women ended up getting off the bus at that stop.  The English woman yelled after them “Fucking go home to your own country!” After a beat of shocked silence from all the passengers, the driver (who was mixed race himself) got up and challenged the woman.  “They are allowed to chat if they want, everyone here is just trying to get home, there is no reason to disrupt anyone else’s journey or otherwise YOU will have to get off the bus.” At this point, the woman went to get off the bus, and the bus driver said “Ma’am, you can take your seat, but please respect other customers because we all paid to use this bus, and please enjoy your journey.”  The woman sat back down, but then got off at the next stop (I wonder if she was not too bothered about getting off the bus if she was only getting off at the next stop anyway?), and the rest of the bus breathed a sigh of relief.

I was shocked that in 2010, such blatant racism still exists.  Well, I am shocked and I am not; I’m not naive and I know very well that racism is very much alive and well, but I was shocked to be present at such an outrageous and blatant display of it.  I was tempted to say something myself, but at the same time it was not my place to get involved; these women are old enough and strong enough to defend themselves, and quite rightly the driver made a stand for his bus and for the passengers on it; he is running the service, not me or any of the other passengers.  I wonder however, if the driver had not said anything, whether I would have been brave enough to say something? Plenty of things sprang to my mind; to challenge her and say that if her problem was with the volume at which these women were speaking, then instead of yelling at them and thus making herself a hypocrite, she should just ask them politely if they could talk more quietly.  If this wasn’t the case, it would have exposed her own racism without saying any more (racism she already exposed with her parting comment to them as they got off the bus).  I felt like saying that if her problem was with the fact that these women were not English (I know this woman was English just by coincidence, as I saw her loudly supporting England at Rewind when I was out watching the game with my friends from uni on Friday night – she had memorable cuts and grazes on her elbow that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the same woman), then should I get off the bus too as I am half-Italian, and I would not be here if my family had not come from another country to live here?  Until she knows the story of these Somali woman, who is she to judge whether they have (on a journey which they paid for, just like the rest of the passengers) less of a right to be on the bus and talk on the bus than her?  If I were speaking to my friends in Spanish, French or Italian, would I be less entitled to talk on the bus than if I were speaking in English? Does the fact that my skin barely looks any different to an English person’s (I am a tiny tiny bit more tanned, but it’s negligible) mean that I am not as mixed-race, or as ethnically diverse, as someone with a different skin colour? Am I entitled to the same rights as an English person simply because I speak native English, have an English surname and my skin is light; in return for these rights do I have to sacrifice my own ethnic background in the process just to fit in?

When I lived in Spain, if someone had spoken to me in that way because I was speaking English on the phone or to my family, I would have been utterly outraged.  Are we literally rewinding back to the story of Rosa Parks on the bus in the USA, before Martin Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement? It felt like it.  Another thing I wanted to point out was that, as a result of my colleague Clare’s presentation on breaking down cultural barriers in guidance, I know that Bristol is considered a popular (if that is the right word) destination for asylum seekers and refugees coming from all over the world, because it is considered a racially-tolerant city in England. This is my hometown, my city, and I am proud of that fact.  By demonstrating such a racially-intolerant attitude, this woman is not only giving a bad example of herself, but of Bristol as a city and of England as a country; in actual fact, she is making herself look stupid and only propagating bad feeling for foreign people, whatever their reason or length of stay in England, which in turn only reinforces cultural barriers rather than breaking them down.  We’re in 2010; this should never have been happening, but it should certainly not be happening in this day and age.  And so I felt that if I didn’t speak up on the bus at the time (and it turned out that it wasn’t my place, nor did I have to – quite rightly, the driver did so), the least I could do was recount the event on here and spread more awareness that these attitudes still exist in our country and are very much alive in everyday life and situations.  This needs to change, and this entry is my little contribution; in my forthcoming job as a Personal Tutor at Cirencester College, one of the things I may well have to do in both interviews and group sessions is work on challenging racial stereotypes and breaking down cultural barriers and misconceptions.

Funnily enough, only earlier my nan and I were discussing the nature of football fans (topical considering that it is currently the World Cup).  English fans, deservedly or undeservedly, have a reputation for being violent, thuggish and neanderthal-like throughout Europe and possibly worldwide.  At the bar on Friday night, there was a fair amount of brainless chanting, stomping and cursing; but then, England did play poorly and I suppose that if so many people are passionate about this, it amasses a certain amount of volume.  I personally don’t like that kind of behaviour, but in itself it’s not racist; it’s only when it either causes damage or turns nasty against other ethnicities, races or against people of other countries that it’s inexcusable.  Nevertheless, I believe in conducting myself in a dignified way at all times whenever and wherever possible; by living up to hooligan stereotypes, England fans only propagate this image of themselves nationally and internationally; it’s not vogue and it doesn’t do the country or the sport any favours.  What’s more, my nan made a very good point that why do many England fans only support England during the football; if they really liked football, why do they not watch or show any interest in the matches involving other countries? Is it about the sport, or is it about the country? If it is about the country, why act so intimidating when watching the football (as opposed to other sports)? Surely this only sends out the wrong kind of message, a bad example to everyone – that this is how England fans behave, and that this country accepts that behaviour as tolerable and normal for football fans towards each other, and towards other people both from this country and from outside it?  I know that there are plenty of people who support England in the World Cup who don’t act this way – a lot of my friends fall under this category – and if I were them I would be somewhat embarrassed and angry that this reputation precedes me.  Everyone is entitled to behave in their own way, but I really wish we considered the feelings and cultures of others more than we do.

A final anecdote, in case I sound holier than thou – I’m not perfect.  When I was 12 years old, I once used a racial slur – I am ashamed to say.  Even more stupidly, it was towards a friend of mine whom I had known for 7 or 8 years by that time; he was acting in a very irritating way during a DT lesson, and out of sheer frustration and for pure shock value, I told him to “shut up you Paki”. Now, I am not racist nor have I ever been – so why portray myself in that way? Even though I was a child, I knew better before and after that event, and yet I did it. It had the desired effect, but I belittled myself by doing it, and my friend (to his credit) handled it very classily by laughing and saying in response to my immediate apology: “Um, no offence taken because I am Indian so that’s not what I am”.  His response made me feel all the more ashamed because not only had I attempted to use a racist expression in order to shut him up, I had used it in an incorrect context; it showed up my foolish behaviour for what it was.  Our friendship did not suffer for it; in fact I believe that the event was all but forgotten by breaktime, but it taught me a valuable lesson: that kind of behaviour is never acceptable, never appropriate, and never necessary.  I apologised profusely and he forgave me, but even recalling that incident makes me feel ashamed 12 years on; I was old enough to know better, and the lessons I learned as a result of that event are the redeeming factor; I have never thought or acted in that way since, and I am now in a position of responsibility to challenge others who do so. During a practice day, I successfully challenged one young person’s attitude to immigrants and the labour market; during my job at Cirencester, I anticipate doing this kind of thing more.  In this blog entry, I have also tried to challenge this behaviour.  Thankyou for reading.



July 2, 2009

So I’m sitting here outside on the patio, it’s 9pm and I don’t really know what I have to write about, for possibly the first time I started this blog only a couple of days ago!  I’ve got Amerie on my ipod, my parents are speaking loudly (read: arguing) in the living room and I need a quick escape.  So here I am.

I suppose today the only recurring theme that’s come up is tenacity.  Watching both Wimbledon women’s semi finals between the Williams sisters and their Russian counterparts was an exercise in tenacity.  I’ll start with the second match first:  Venus Williams v. Dinara Safina was a masterclass in tennis where Venus, clearly the best women’s tennis player around at the moment, barely broke a sweat while outplaying and outclassing her opponent, puzzlingly the current world number one both upon entering and leaving the semi-final.  I suppose that’s why labels aren’t always as important, and statistics don’t always tell the whole story; Safina, the world #1, was by far the weakest player in today’s semi finals.

The other match was far more interesting : Serena Williams v. Elena Dementieva.  The longest Wimbledon women’s semi final for 15 years, Dementieva threatened to win the match multiple times, only to fail to capitalise upon the match points every time.  After getting very irate at the television and at the biased commentators who could barely remove their tongues from Serena’s backside, I said “Blonde (Dementieva = too many syllables) deserves to have won already; if she hasn’t won by now, she isn’t gonna do it.”  And I was proved right, though Serena Williams came from behind so many times and was lucky not to have been dismissed in the second set, let alone the third.  But at the end of the day Serena had the belief in herself (both tennis players were extremely skilled so I’m not going to say who was “better”), while Dementieva ultimately let her nerves get to her and prevent her time and again from capitalising upon the breaks she had made for herself.  Serena was definitely lucky to have gotten through to the final (and she certainly does not deserve to beat her sister, unless something drastically changes), but she got through because of her tenacity.  Even when the going got really tough, she didn’t give up and kept playing and playing and pushing through to the victory.  She demonstrated more self-belief than her opponent and it brought her through.

About an hour later, my mother and I were having a conversation, I can’t remember how it started, but it got along to the notion of not giving up on oneself.  At first I told my mother that although I would never give up on myself, sometimes it is easy to feel like giving up on yourself, to stop believing that my new job will ever give me any hours during this recession, to believe that my uni course might fall through, to feel like my singing and my university degree and my weight loss and muscle buildup has all been for nothing.  I think that everybody feels weak at times, and I think that we are only human; weakness is an understandable feeling.  As much as I try to display an icy, strong and flawless public persona even around my friends and family, there are cracks that I know exist; and I try to accept them and patch them up one at a time as much as I can.

Once my mum got annoyed because she thought that I meant I wanted to give up on myself (which wasn’t my meaning at all), I explained that I wasn’t going to give up, but just that sometimes success isn’t as simple as how much effort you put in.  Other things happen around you, life sometimes leads you in another direction through its myriad events and coincidences.  You can only control your life to a certain degree; I believe that outside factors can make you stumble, divert your planned course and force you to take a moment out to regroup.  It doesn’t mean giving up, but it does mean that things don’t happen as easily as you expected, nor the way you expected them to. (Look at me: Oxford languages graduate, one year later I’m going back to university to do a Careers Guidance course that I’m not even sure that I will be able to afford…) My mum understood and agreed, and we then went on to discuss how my nan says that we shouldn’t buy nice / designer things, because the money could always be useful for something else more “necessary”.  My nan isn’t wrong, but me and my mother both agree that sometimes life is too short to be forever wanting something that you continue to deny yourself.  I’ve told my nan before that she is in a position financially to have near enough anything she wants, where there are thousands of people who dream of owning even one little slice of Gucci or Armani (or whatever your poison happens to be) and never get round to affording it.  And there’s also a difference between spending recklessly on luxuries without taking care of the bigger picture, and treating yourself to something that you’ve earned with your own blood, sweat and tears, that will make you happier and is within your grasp.  Sometimes I feel I have to justify why I have a designer watch, ring, necklace, tshirt, sunglasses, but I don’t have to justify anything; at the end of the day, I can afford those things which make me happy and indulge my fashionista persona, and I can still afford to pay my phone bill, my transport, my rent, my gym membership.  I’m not earning a lot of money, but I’m not living beyond my means.  And now that I have Prada sunglasses, I did it once and I won’t go back to aspiring to that. I won’t surrender that dream that I made reality.  I will only keep moving forward.  In a roundabout way, that is the definition of “tenacity” to me.