Windrush

This is a political post so if that isn’t your thing, then click away now….

In the UK over the last week or so, the press has been dominated by the growing story of the Windrush generation. Very simply and concisely, this was a group of children that were invited to come here by the Government in the sixties from the West Indies, in order for them to have better lives and for them to contribute to society. They came with an indefinite right to remain but no documents, they were mostly on their parents’ passports and they went on to marry here, have children here, pay taxes here, they are British. Now, a number of years ago, it became law to provide documentation of your legal right to work in the UK. As a manager, I became used to photocopying passports and birth certificates and there were heavy fines if a company was found to have ‘illegal’ workers on their books. Slowly, these men and women started to lose their jobs because they didn’t have their own passports, their birth certificates stated that they were born in Antigua or wherever.

A man appeared in the press with the heartbreaking story that, on being diagnosed with cancer, was taken into a side room at the hospital and told that his treatment could not start unless he could pay the £54000 that was needed to fund it. A man who had lived in the UK since he was a small child, a man who had never returned to the country of his birth.

I was born in 1980 and I doubt that I have come close to contributing to society, in this country of my birth, than the vast majority of these men and women have. I haven’t nursed anyone back to health, haven’t set up my own successful business, haven’t raised a doctor or paid the taxes that they have. I am about to have a baby and I have no idea how much that will cost the NHS as I take it for granted that the cost will be covered. By the accident of my birth. If I ever get cancer, then I will expect treatment and to be cured and to move on with my life without exorbitant bills that will follow me for the rest of my life.

Do I feel superior because I was born here? Because I am a legal British citizen? Am I superior because I am white and will likely never suffer the abuse that any of these people have suffered throughout their lives?

No. I feel inferior to these people. Grateful. Humbled. Embarrassed that the politicians that share the colour of my skin are cruelly and systematically removing the rights of the minorities and are only called out when a petition on twitter gains enough digital signatures to generate debate in the House of Commons. The day after this debate, the debate was on anti-Semitism, and we are now almost a year from the devastating events of Grenfell.

This government is awful and I do despair sometimes. But I despair more often at the standard of the opposition. It feels like we have nowhere to go, nowhere good or positive and I look at my daughters and wonder what the world will look like when they are older. All I strive to do is make sure that they are ready to cope with anything and that they are good. Good, kind people. All three of them. If my baby is ever born!

Anyway, I shall leave it there. More introspective relationship stuff to come soon and hopefully a baby announcement in the next few days….