‘You can not celebrate for it incites hate, forces us to segregate’ so let me exacerbate the debate with the intention to aggravate

I know I said this before, but I really am hearing so much about race nowadays... In fact it’s annoying and the more we speak about it, the more it upsets us. On the flipside, the more we challenge existing beliefs and common negative perceptions, the better we become as we progress and openly debate the issues in question.

Let’s face it, the UK is a long way from being a completely integrated multi-cultural nation and I don’t think it ever will be. If there’s not one thing it’s another. If it’s not the old adage that we took all the jobs then it’s the new asylum seeker malarkey – that they strain resources and take what doesn’t belong to them like benefits and housing… but that’s another argument. For the majority, the UK provides a better life, an income and a sustainable future where lives are not at risk or threatened by war and disease. People pay their taxes and abide by the law. Just the other day, I stood in London waiting for a bus when an old man openly spat racial insults at the many black people in the bus queue. I was disgusted. His neck brace was probably funded by my contributions. Maybe I should refuse to contribute and like the Butterfly Effect his neck brace will tighten and retract. Or like the pleasure pain principle I smile as I watch my wallet enlarge and his neck brace tightens – we can only dream. Deep rooted hatred is harmful. It reminded me of a time back in the Midlands (Wolverhampton to be precise) in the early 90’s when a coloured person could be attacked by White louts who didn’t understand democracy and a free world. Their whole existences paid for by the ‘pakis’ who were willing to fulfil their tax obligations and consequently allowed these live-off-the-state bigots to continue with their narrow-minded I-don’t-have-a-clue-but-proud-to-be-white lifestyles in a haze of alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, violence, Staffy’s, pub culture and lack of education. When you were in school, there was always a kid that didn’t actually go to school but always hung about in the playground like a vagabond Oliver Twist pick pocket right? You know that kid, who never wore a school uniform and darted about on his BMX – well in this scenario he would be the offspring of these people! It all makes perfect sense… just like knowing that there was a stray dog that at one point in your primary school life infiltrated the playground and caused mayhem. So it is in my experience that people of this disposition are likely to be more racist because they lack education. ‘Edu-what?’ they ask. They push their Englishness onto ethnics and claim that this country is theirs. They frighten the old Indian lady walking home from the shops carrying her vegetables, intimidating and threatening her with half-wit insults and slurs. They post dog doo-doo into Malik’s shop letterbox, stealing goods when he turns away and laugh at the ‘paki crap’ blaring from his radio behind the counter as he continues with his day serving locals. They scratch and smash Mr Singh’s Mercedes out of envy – ‘they take all of our jobs and rub it in our faces’. A Sikh Vaisakhi celebration in the Midlands is attacked by scores of Asian Muslims who cause riots and force the celebrations to be banned indefinitely.

Talking of celebrations, the West Midlands St George’s Parade was abolished this year over fears of extremist influence. It was claimed that racial tensions were the cause of the parade to be scrapped with no funding being given to the festivities which celebrate the English patron saint in West Bromwich, Birmingham. My neck of the woods… It is farcical that a celebration of the British patron saint can be scrapped because it can incite racism and exclusion of other community groups. Somehow I don’t think the Sandwell Somalis would care too much or the Smethwick Somalis for that matter! Or maybe even the BNP (and that’s the British National Paki Facebook group to you and me!).


Another national tabloid claimed that the parade was scrapped because non-British people found the celebrations racist and pro-Britain. Yes of course they are pro-Britain! The West Midlands has a proud Black Country heritage and I for one am tremendously proud to claim it as my home (my grandfather worked in the Black Country during the manufacturing boom and jobs were aplenty). The people there and everywhere have a right to celebrate their heritage just as Sikhs celebrate Vaisakhi with lavish street processions. If the Sikh community were forced to stop their celebrations it would not go down well and I am sure Mr Singh would be challenging his local MP for an apology, threatening a boycott of some kind and pleading for a re-instatement of all Sikh cultural events on the double. These events are an institution in British-Sikh culture just like St George’s Day is for England. In Birmingham city centre, Hare Krishna followers (I should be politically correct and refer to them as the International Society for Krishna Consciousness as they are known) march the streets and sing praises – does this incite social exclusion and create further segregation between community groups? How about the fanatical (is that the right word?) Christian, who stands in Nottingham city centre opposite the Town Hall (I am well travelled) and chants repeatedly about Jesus; I couldn’t for the life of me ever work out what he was saying! Does he incite or encourage segregation of any kind or is he merely practising his beliefs and encouraging others to follow his lead?

Just like an onion, this debate has multiple layers and makes us cry with confusion… I just want to live my life my way without having to worry about treading on egg shells (very fragile ones at that), without upsetting others and on my own terms... is that too much to ask? I thought Britain was a free nation, allowing all to live mutually and cohesively alongside each other in a giant melting pot. Like a huge stir fry with onions (can you tell I like them?), mushrooms, chilli, broad beans and sweet potato – each vegetable representing a different person by race, ethnicity and creed and contributing to Britain’s one of 5-a-day – the more vegetables we add the healthier Britain becomes. Can you guess which vegetable is which or is that stereotyping and politically incorrect?

By not allowing people to embrace and celebrate their heritage, we can maintain this mute culture Britain’s decision-makers are adopting by continually tightening that neck brace: not healthy…

God show me the way coz the devil trying to break me down...

Consuming a Zinger Burger and sipping on my tea, I hear faint sounds of a congregation led by a charismatic voice in the distance. It was the clinical looking building next door. A loud, masculine shout followed by cheers and chants. I sat, cold and weary looking out at the young lads standing outside KFC with nothing else to do. Their sports branded clothing, expensive trainers, baseball caps with the tags hanging off intimidating passers by and looking for something to do. Looking for something -something fulfilling to fill the void.

As I have grown up I have realised that my relationship with God has been turbulent. As a Sikh, it can be extremely tough to follow the ideals our parents expect us to abide by. In the constant conflict to do what my religion dictates and eating the last of my zinger burger I commit a sin. I look ahead thinking what life would be like if I followed the path many young people my age do. They take the Sikh baptism and follow a life more in tune with Sikh tradition – doing the prayers, following the code of conduct which involves never cutting or shaving hair, not eating meat or smoking and attending the Sikh temple to assist the congregational activities. I am guilty of not abiding – I like the odd drink on a jaunt or a tipple with friends. I am partial to a bit of barbeque on a weekend that Uncle Malkit serves up in the local desi pub.

Like the lads with no purpose who day in day out ‘hang around’, I realise that I too am missing something – Peace of Mind. An empty feeling often consumes me in times of contemplation knowing that religion can help to fill it. Language barriers enhance the confusion – How can I understand prayers and the significance of Holy Scriptures when the language is foreign to me? This is difficult. What will my children be like, when the possibility of marrying another British Asian who shares my view doesn’t pass down any religious teachings? I see a dilution of religion as time passes by. In the UK, there will be less of a ‘difference’ between white and Asian people. With the increase in mixed marriages and the new British Asian population becoming increasingly ‘western’ I see a secular society with religious groups very much a minority – no more busy Gurdwaras on a Sunday. Not like they used to be.

As I left my car, I strolled towards the building entrance with the chants louder and clearer – ‘Jesus is our Saviour’. I am intrigued and I walk in. Greeted by a friendly African lady, dressed in traditional attire she invites me in. I stand like a condemned man, confused and alone sipping on my KFC tea and scanning the crowd. Scores of black devotees sing and dance. ‘Hallelujah’ shouts the Bishop while the crowd’s hysteria deepens. Small black children, not quite understanding why they are there flitter about passing through chairs aimlessly. I am reminded of my childhood in the Gurdwara, running around looking for fun and meeting with friends. I was always aware that it was a religious place but I had guns to fire and fires to light. A young child smiles at me, his big innocent brown eyes amongst the hysteria is poignant. Who am I and why I am here? I am a Sikh Briton standing in an evangelical church wandering how my peace of mind ever evaded me… I head for the door where the African lady gives me a flyer with church opening times and makes me repeat a prayer. I oblige, tell her I am Sikh and wander back to my car in deep thought… This is the kind of experience that repeatedly forces me to work out who I am. So what am I? Where do I belong and how will I decide to live my life and under which teachings?

I guess my point is this – I am trying to work out who I am. I have an issue with my identity and I want to explore it further. No matter what, my colour or identity have no bearing on the goals I set for myself in life so for now maybe I should be concentrating on them… Any ideas?

Today, the issue for Muslims is just as significant. Are they Muslim first and British second? Many believe they are Muslim first and this view tarnishes their reputation with many believing they become fanatical. What am I first? Sikh? Indian? Punjabi? British? I don't even know anymore... My episode at the church signified to me that I had no path, no clarity about my identity and consequently no peace of mind. I search for answers.

I am a man. I was once a boy.
I am a son, a brother, an uncle, a nephew.
I am brown. I am coloured. I am non-white.
I am Asian. I am Indian. I am Sikh.
I am a minority. I am ethnic.
I am a paki, a golliwog, a raghead, a nigger.
I should go back to where I come from. Where do I come from?
My home is here. We breathe the same air. We cry the same tears.

I am human.

Our greatest strength as a human race is our ability to acknowledge our difference, our greatest weakness is our failure to embrace them.

Oh Come All Ye Faithful… but go to your own assembly!

Children are one-third of our population and all of our future

I am a Sikh and I look like a Sikh. When I was at school I recited Christian hymns and learned about all religions. I was often fascinated by Christianity and I enjoyed singing ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ on a Thursday morning. I even made the choir for a short while when my pre-pubescent voice hit the high note on ‘ALL’ in All Things Bright and Beautiful’. It was only the children who were Jehovar’s Witnesses that did not attend assembly. I never questioned why I was being taught about a religion different to my own and never did I feel that I should be given individual treatment because my religion was not that of the majority. Scanning the assembly on a warm Spring morning in 1995 at my primary school, you would see children from all faiths. The token Sikh kids with their patkas and top-knots, the Muslim children with their topis and the kids with no definable features other than being brown! The next defining criteria would be looking out for a ‘kara’ which signified that he or she was Sikh. They were good days. And all this at a time when I was more likely to be called a ‘paki’ and often was.

It is sad to hear then that today a head teacher has resigned from her primary school because she abolished Muslim assemblies which were in isolation to other assemblies within her school. In her attempts to create a unified assembly, Julia Robinson quit her post at Meersbrook Bank Primary School in Sheffield after parents complained about her plans to hold one assembly for pupils of all faiths. What is the world coming to? In a day and age when we are struggling with racial scandals and the rebirth of the ‘golliwog’ how is an attempt to create an accepting and understanding multi-faith environment a negative thing? I am saddened by this.

I am sure that separate assemblies for Muslims would only help to re-enforce negative stereotypes and strengthen separatism. How can Muslims argue that they are misunderstood when they favour separatism in school? How will Islam be better understood if non-Muslim children in schools are not given the opportunity to learn about and explore Islam? Separate assemblies do nothing for community relations and in my opinion breed mistrust and tension between racial groups and communities. My fascination with “other people’s” religions enabled me to appreciate how others lived, worshipped and were guided by their morals and principles. I would not be the person I am today had I not been able to understand how others lived their lives.

Why do you have a pom-pom? I was asked once and not for the first time. The snotty kid whose name escapes me was a ruffian and if I didn’t answer correctly my pom-pom would be desecrated within minutes… (it wasn’t the female bully I alluded to in a previous post!).
‘I don’t really like it but my mom says I have to have it’ I replied embarrassingly. I used to cringe knowing that my friend John, a mixed race boy (his father was black and mum white) would often see my hair in its entirety when he would call for me on his way to school. Due to my lazy nature, he would often have to wait for me while mum tied my top-knot in haste because I had woken up late for school again.
‘Well it’s weird and you need to have a proper haircut like me and Mike. I will cut it for you, my moms a hairdresser’.

In those kinds of situations I never felt equipped to respond accordingly.

‘Hair is a gift from God and removal of hair signifies a detachment from the Almighty. Keeping your hair means that you accept God’s will….. And as a Sikh I will have a sword one day and I am gona chop you up you little shit’.. this is a mixture and what I should and shouldn't have said. Knife-crime is also very serious and I open a whole new can of super worms with these words so I stop right here…

When you put faith, hope and love together, you can raise positive kids in a negative world.

When Mr Singh later came in to our assembly to talk about Sikhism I was immensely proud. Not only did he look like 27 of my uncles he also smelled like them as well! With his smartly tied turban which matched the colour of his suit I was in awe. He told us that Sikhs were a warrior religion, that we lived to serve a humble life and to follow God and help others, that we had Gurdwaras that would be open to all, that we had community langar halls which fed anybody that wished to eat and that one of the 5 K’s was a dagger - I became a popular lad!

In his new found appreciation of my religion, snotty kid and his accomplice Mike found a new respect for me and my outward religious headwear. I became even cooler when I was hand-picked to be the projector boy carefully choosing which hymns to unearth unto an unexpecting congregation like a soldier with a new battle plan or a preacher with a new revelation to share. I wasn’t called a paki again or received threats to unravel my pom-pom… that was until I beat him in the sports day running race. The visual characteristics that made me who I was were accepted and that was thanks to my assembly on Sikhism.

Children learn to smile from their parents.
Shinichi Suzuki

I saw snotty kid recently and we became ‘friends’ again on Facebook. He even married a Caribbean girl… When children are children, they need to have their minds opened and filled with the right stuff; stuff that will challenge their perceptions and newly formed beliefs and will help them to live inclusively without fear and prejudice..

It is a sad day to see how an attempt to create a harmonious environment for children becomes a battleground for narrow minded parents who are threatened by religions not their own. And then Britain (well some commentators) wander why we still have a national identity crisis……

Upon our children,
how they are taught,
rests the fate, or fortune,
of tomorrow's world.
B C Forbes

The adventures of two celebrities and a golliwog

Is it me or am I hearing a lot more about race in the media nowadays? Maybe my mental satellite is tuned into the race related stories but only this week I have seen or heard many stories about race relations, race rows and media race scandals in the UK.

Take Carol Thatcher, a media celebrity who used the term 'golliwog' while filming for the BBC's The One Show on which she appears regularly as a reporter. She had referred to a tennis player as a 'golliwog' when in discussion about the Australian Open. Three guesses as to who that tennis star may have been? Claiming it was said in 'jest' I must say that I am mildly appalled at the excuse. A racial slur in jest is a poor excuse and it just goes to show that racism exists in the upper echelons of society - maybe even more so than within other circles (she is Maggie Thatcher's daughter I'll have you know - the name is a dead give away). Oh and she appeared on 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here' and won it. Good for her I hear you cry. Her racial remarks recieved 2,200 complaints at the BBC. She also used the terms 'golliwog-frog' and 'half-golliwog' allegedly referring to French tennis player Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, - who? I thought that too. She has refused to apologise in full, leaving the excuses to her spokeswoman. For all of that, she has of course been banned from The One Show and quite rightly so. The show is aimed at a diverse audience and she has offended many with her remarks. I wander what fellow reporter Hardeep Singh Kohli made of his colleague? Kohli who wears a turban and maintains a Sikh identity has appeared regularly on the show.

So what is a golliwog? I referred to golliwogs in a previous post when talking of my own experience of racism. They are rag dolls resembling black-faced minstrels and were apparently popular children's toys in Britain during the early part of the 20th century - way before my time then! The term however became a racist remark and was widely accepted as offensive.

Talking of golliwogs - they sell them at Royal Sandringham for £9.99!

I am sensing a them here? Racism, golliwogs and the Royals? The 20,000 acre Royal estate at Sandringham have been selling golliwog dolls for over year at their Sandringham shops. The Thatcher saga has now meant that officials at the Royal estate have been forced to remove the golliwog dolls from their shelves. Now I find this quite amusing as the dolls themselves were a toy that many older people remember fondly. In Britain the jam manufacturer Robertson adopted the golliwog as its emblem and that is where I remember it from or at least where it looks familiar. From a soft toy, a jam emblem to a malicious racist slur.. Its all a bit weird and out of proportion. Nevertheless, lets treat these current sagas as evidence that Britain is cleaning up it's racial ideologies, analogies and symbols.

Then all look round, as well they may

To see a horrid sight!

The blackest gnome

Stands there alone,

They scatter in their fright.

How the golliwog was introduced in The Adventures of Two Dutch Dolls and a Golliwogg (Florence Kate Upton).

Talking of golliwogs and the affection given to them by grannies throughout the UK, how are race relations within the younger generation? Recently, teen star Miley Cyrus was accused of racism in her apparent racist gesture when pulling her eyes slanted in a photograph. This is political correctness gone mad! Maybe she was being racist and if she was, then shame on her. The laughable thing in this saga is that there was a young Asian-Pacific American in the picture (an Oriental person to you and me). Pulling the eyes into a slanted position is said to be offensive to Asian-Pacific people and rightly so. It would be the same as somebody wrapping a towel around their head and assuming to be a 'raghead'. Harry - anyone you know? Maybe this scenario is going too far and if she has offended anyone she has apologised accordingly. Lets move on and let Hannah Montana do what she does best. See the picture for yourself and make of it what you wish...

Sometimes criticism is deserved. Sometimes we have to bite our lip and let things be. The trouble is that race is a very sensitive topic and those sensitivities exist in varying proportions for everyone.... Where do we draw the line?

UK to be mixed race in 21st century

A major study has suggested that young people in London are more likely to be of mixed race as adults, raising hopes that they will not see race in the way it is seen in contemporary UK. ‘Young people are now six times as likely to be mixed race as adults and the rate is increasing by the year’ according to the Institute for Social and Economic Research. My mixed race nephew battles to understand his identity as his turban wearing grandfather and white father differ significantly. They speak different languages, eat different foods and socialise in massively contrasting circles. I hope when he’s older he can appreciate that he possesses a unique dual heritage and embraces it fully.

According to the research at Essex University, nine per cent of children in Britain are of ‘mixed or multiple heritage, meaning they are living with parents of different ethnic backgrounds or are of mixed race themselves’. Among the Indian population, this figure has risen dramatically from 3 percent to 11 percent. For Pakistanis from 1 percent to 4 percent and Chinese from 15 percent 35 percent. The number of children of Caribbean heritage with one white parent has risen from 39 percent to 49 percent over the past 14 years. Ethnicity will as a result become different to how we know it today.

Who will be ethnic in twenty years time? How will racism progress?

In an increasingly liberal UK, my concern as a second generation British-Asian Indian lies with the disowning of Indian values and culture as we become increasingly mixed race. I am all for an integrating society but I fear the decline in the influence of Indian values. With British Asians leading a western life and the older migrant generations unfortunately dying out, what is Asian Britain left with? Secular societies with less focus on religion? In my community, I see the Sikh traditions observed less than ever before. Even today, Gurdwaras are at their busiest on Diwali and Vaisakhi and for some a return visit to the Gurdwara is the following year. In this way, Asian societies will lose or at least experience a diminishing influence of eastern culture. Where will the UK Asian communities be in twenty years time? Will there even be such communities remaining?

Will we see a mixed Britain where the emphasis on colour and ethnicity declines at the cost of an increasingly westernised Asian society?

This for me is upsetting – although I do not favour separatism. A fine balance between east and west makes me the person I am. I would be disappointed if my children’s children were unaware of their roots; their Asian, Indian, Sikh, eastern heritage with only an Indian surname to prove their ethnicity.

The report commissioned by the Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC), paints a picture of Britain where people of ethnic backgrounds are far more likely to marry and live with people of races different to their own… and their point is?

Happy (Arranged) Marriage!

Today I have received news that my thirty-something cousin over in India has become engaged to a girl who he met 30 minutes beforehand. It made me wander why this would be a preposterous situation for myself to be in… the mere fact that I am geographically in another land has meant that my whole approach to the arranged marriage situation differs from that of my cousin. Had my grandfather not travelled to the UK in the 1950’s and had my father not travelled to the UK years later to marry my mother I would not be here. It could have been me getting engaged today had I been living in my paternal home in the Punjab.

Word out in the neighbourhood that a young lad who is "so and so's" son is eligible for marriage. A local father with daughters to discharge visits my family home, greets my father, meets me and assesses my character within fifteen minutes, decides that his daughter should spend the rest of her life with me and goes on his way to make ‘further arrangements’. 2 hours later, I am donning my best suit tailored by the local master in the bazaar, tying my best turban and stepping into my Maruti to travel to the local hotel where marriage engagements are initiated. Along with my father and five other family members we are greeted by the girl’s father, five of his closest relatives and the girl herself. We exchange glances, loosely exchange words and give the nod to proceed. Within minutes we are fixed up and engaged to be married….

I am British. My heritage is Indian, Asian or whatever else can describe me. My father has learned to temper his Indian attitude and he would never impose a marriage upon me in the way that his brother has to my cousin. I presume my cousin was happy to receive news of his impending marriage from his father since he was adamant to get married when we last spoke – ‘Find me a girl yaar’. Find your bloody own… even after a long relationship, I remain unsure about my willingness to marry. Its amazing how being 4550 miles from the Punjab makes me who I am. I really am a product of my environment…

Now nuff of them are sweet and some are ugly
And some of them a marga mean she patli
And some are mampee that a moti kuri
And some too english talk no punjabi
Say the gal me like have the right figure
In she eyes have the soorma
Wear the chuni kurtha pyjama
And talk the Indian with the Patwa!

Now me done get marry say me start to worry
Me have to tell you something mon would you help me
About me arrange marriage me have a problem
When is the right time to tell me gal friend!
Becaz the time has come mon fe apache
To find one gal and to get marry
But listen ragamuffin tell everybody
Me want me arrange marriage from me mum and daddy!
Arranged Marriage – Apache Indian