The whiplash of living in London v the media and political discourse about who lives here
For some time I’ve been thinking about the absolute dissonance between living and working in London and watching the news, checking Bluesky, or god forbid even the Sky News website and finding our political and media elite discussing politics - most of which happens in London - and it sounds as though they are on a different planet.
So let me start by telling you about the last week or so of me, a mixed Black gay man in London. I will be listing the backgrounds of the people featured as it is relevant.
Let’s start with last Friday, when Hamza (South Asian, Muslim, working class, gay) and Tricia (Black Jamaican) and I went to the beautifully restored Soho theatre in Walthamstow to see the (Black American) comic Josh Johnson, whose brand of observational comedy went down a storm with the multi-ethnic audience. It’s also worth googling how the theatre was saved from private ownership and returned as a public performance space. It was a real community effort.
On Sunday, I went for brunch with my (Welsh speaker, working class background!) husband to celebrate his birthday. Dogs were allowed in the brasserie and the staff made a fuss over Dusty the dog. Sloppy burgers all round.
Tuesday, we went to one of the local taprooms for a pub quiz, invited by our new neighbour and I in turn invited the neighbours across the street and a friend of a friend who lives around the corner. Our team of 8 had three white British people, one white Canadian, a British Nigerian, a Vietnamese man, an Indo-Trinidadian Canadian, and me.
Wednesday, I saw a preview of Marriage Material by Sathnam Sanghera, a comedy drama spanning three generations of a Sikh family. Though at times the adaptation felt more like a sitcom and some of the tropes rather too familiar, there were enough nostalgic references to maintain interest. I would say the crowd was about a third Black and Asian, which for London theatre, is good news and reflective of the neighbourhood in which the theatre sits (Hammersmith).
Thursday lunchtime I went with a (Black Caribbean) colleague to a street food market stall to buy some of the best falafel I have ever tasted. The Jordanian stall holders handed out free falafel to the long (multi-ethnic) queue of City workers and free bottles of water.
This weekend the big event was The Mighty Hoopla, a LGBTQ+ festival. I got talking to a mixed Black Caribbean man who is also called Marcus in the jerk chicken queue. We snacked and talked about experiences and mutual acquaintances, yes I knew what the word “dougla” meant.
Between the pop divas performing hits millennials and GenX queers used to play on their Sony Discmans - Samantha Mumba was iconic - Trans women from an affiliated charity gave emotional speeches about the regression of their rights and the importance of trans joy in the face of adversity.
Jade formerly of Little Mix led a chant of Fuck You aimed at JK Rowling. All around cis gay and bi people wore “Protect The Dolls” t-shirts and slogans supporting our trans friends who were out experiencing some much needed trans joy. Each performance was signed in British Sign Language, and there was an accessible viewing area for wheelchair users.
Walking back to the tube through Brixton on Sunday night, queer Hoopla revellers littered the streets while a Trinidadian carnival event was taking place in a local pub and traditionally dressed Ghanaian women left church as women in hijabs pushed prams with cute babies.
Another week in diverse London. And folks, I wasn’t even trying to tick boxes - this is just life. It’s worth pointing out that I did not grow up in London, I moved here - just like many political leaders and journalists would have - and over the years, made friendships and connections and acquaintances and met neighbours.
And then you check the news, and are subject the usual torrent of transphobia, and racism from politicians and the media, sadly including Keir Starmer’s clumsy and rancid attempts to outflank Reform from the right on immigration, from this very city.
I opened up my new work laptop to find the MSN homepage serving me stories from the British media. Mailonline. GB News. The Telegraph. The Times. The barrage of negative stories about immigration and by extension migrants, which I take personally as you are literally talking about my mum, who was a nurse on a burns unit, a midwife, and latterly, a health visitor with many a story about how she supported struggling families with young babies. There were two aggressively transphobic stories on the homepage.
The absolute disparity between my actual life and the gallery of faces spewing hate, including sadly the Labour party, is not just shocking, it feels positively violent and scarily undemocratic.
This is London Whiplash.
