In the UK, we live in a racist society. That is not a palatable statement: indeed, frequently, ‘racist’ is substituted with ‘unequal’ or ‘unjust’ – but we must call it out for what it is. It should feel uncomfortable. It should not be an easy thing to say. It should make us squirm. We live in a society that has, and has had, a constant lack of awareness and consideration for the struggle of black people. Black people feel as though their voices, their histories, and their concerns are seldom heard or appreciated. Black History Month, celebrated every October, provides black people with a place to stand and share their concerns, their history, their struggles, and to celebrate their cultures.

The month is about being unapologetically black, being proud of that, and demanding respect for that. We are told frequently that our society is more equal than ever, and that increasingly addressing racism in society at large is becoming a less urgent and pressing matter. Yet, in some areas of the UK, you are 17 times more likely to be stopped and searched if you are black. You are more likely to die in police custody if you’re black. You are more than six times more likely to be detained under the Mental Health Act if you are black. Our government believes it’s acceptable to put an openly racist man on our five pound note, and our Foreign Secretary has called black people “piccaninnies”, and referred to Africa as a country. As well as all of this, in Brexit Britain being a person of colour can be an incredibly difficult place – people are more happy now than ever to throw around ideals of the British Empire, claiming to seek independence from the ‘tyranny’ of Europe. However, there seems to be little appetite to remember exactly how these things were facilitated. For example, sugar plantations, worked on by slaves, provided a huge amount of income for the British economy, which means our continued wealth and prosperity as a country is in part owed to the blood, sweat, and tears of slaves – a huge facet of the history of the African diaspora. Indeed, it was refreshing to hear Jeremy Corbyn discuss the importance of building closer economic ties with Jamaica in a recent interview, in recognition of the bloody and violent exploitation of the Jamaican people. In stark contrast, it was almost laughable when David Cameron, well-known to have descended from a slave-owning family, visited Jamaica to provide them with a prison rather than to invest in projects such as infrastructure – things which Jamaica so desperately needs. Seemingly, there seems to be a clear societal and political disconnect in Britain from its colonial and racist history, and a wilful ignorance of the racism that exists in society today. Disrespect even presents itself frequently in the way in which political issues are discussed by politicians and the media; referring to Brexit as Britain’s ‘Independence Day’ fails to recognise how inappropriate such a term is for Britain and its history. There is a reason that nearly 60 countries have declared independence from the brutality and exploitation of the British Empire, with the most recent country declaring independence in 1984.

Black lives do matter

Celebrating Black History Month at universities across the country is crucial because being a black student can be an incredibly alienating situation. Black students cannot see themselves, their history, or their culture reflected in members of staff, other students, or in syllabuses. Indeed, this strong sense of alienation is not surprising when one considers, for example, that only 17 of the many professors in the UK are black women. In addition, statistics show that it is much more difficult for black students to gain admission to elite institutions in this country – when it comes to Cambridge applications, the success rate for black African students in 2015 was a mere 14.8 per cent, compared with the 28.9 per cent success rate of their white peers. Then, even if black students do make it through into Cambridge’s ancient turrets, they are surrounded by the clear disrespect of the African diaspora.

Let’s take Smuts’s portrait, which hangs in Christ’s hall. A vocal supporter of apartheid, Jan Smuts was a man that likened African people to children, and claimed they needed the guidance of white people to succeed. Or how about the Benin Bronze statue that was stolen after the massacre of the people of Benin by the British. The bronze which, until recently, stood in Jesus College’s main hall, has been removed and stashed away while the University decide what to do with an object that was never theirs. The Nigerian government have, in interviews and in writing, requested this piece of their national heritage back on multiple occasions. Yet, still, the decision-making seems to lie with this incredibly white and elite institution, saturated with sinister colonial ties, simultaneously failing to see how problematic and painful it may be for black students to see their supremacy over the issue. Or be it the fact that a college was erected and named after Winston Churchill, a man who believed that his race was “a stronger race, a higher-grade race, a more worldly wise race” than that of the “black people of Australia” or the “Red Indians of America”. The lack of acknowledgement or accountability shown for these gross injustices can make black students feel as if their history is erased, their concerns are invalid, and their presence is not welcome.

During Black History Month we must be loud, and we must be proud. Frequently, people criticise movements that try to gain recognition and action for these examples of racism in the establishment by claiming people are trying to erase history – when it is our histories that have been erased. We are not seeking the erasure of history; we are seeking justice. We are celebrating our strength. As Malcolm X so accurately put it:

“A race of people is like an individual man; until it uses its own talent, takes pride in its own history, expresses its own culture, and affirms its own selfhood, it can never fulfill itself.”