The call of Brixton has loomed large ever since I arrived in London. Since my second day here, nearly every scholar I have met has said, "Go to Brixton." I have heard this so much, that Brixton seemed to call to me like the song of the siren. Today, I wanted to attend a lecture by sociologist Heidi Mirza on whether education can be use used to empower Black, Muslim, and migrant young women. The event was in Brixton , so attending meant that I must give in to the call. Stepping out of .the train station, the call greeted me with the syncopated beats played on a snare drum and someone singing. “Don’t trust no blue eyed Jesus, He will always, lead you wrong Don’t know White Jesus He aint helping no Black people.” The rhythm of Brixton is different than any other part of the city that I have visited. The song is a fitting anthem to heart of the section. It is political, resilient, and defiant and acts as a sort of like theme music to bustling with Black and Brown people that you see on the streets. Catching the bus, pushing their children there’s an ebb and flow. It’s the first section of the city, minorities, particularly Blacks, greatly out-numbered Whites. The buildings look different and gives off a different character My head turns back and forth as I slowly walk toward m the lecture. It is alive with music and people. Some buildings are tagged with graffiti and this visual continues the struggle of the area. We are watching #Save Brixton; Our struggle may be long, But victory is a must. I’m in awe and it reminds of the struggle in Baltimore. There’s a Pan-African feel and obvious connection between the history and struggle both in the US and in the UK. There is a street market with tables full of colors selling various products. Reggae music is blasting as Afro Caribbean, Nigerians, Turkish, Indian and various people from Middle Eastern countries, ask to sell me incenses, necklaces, trinkets and goods. I walk slowly through and it reminded of the souks in Marrakesh, Morocco or Cairo, Egypt. Briefly, I feel like I am in a different country. There are Bob Marley pictures everywhere and serves as a symbol of cultural relativism and proud. . As I approached the area for the lecture, I notice that it is in a housing complex called Angels Delight. There are beige buildings and a playground area with kids playing soccer. I think, "that looks cool, we should be doing that Maryland." The lecture is in a small community center room. There are not many people as the lecture begins. But as the professor begins her talk by proclaiming the education is biased and unfair to Blacks and Black women, people begin to come. The statement serves as its own song of a siren. People are drawn to the call because it reflects both their frustration and desire for social justice. The professor described her experiences coming from Trinidad and being discriminated in the Brixton school system. They identified with her pain and frustration as she recalled it. They also celebrated her triumph as she discussed the book that she wrote about the school based off of her dissertation. The lecture may have dealt with can the British education system empower Black, Muslim women, but it quickly became a forum on how to improve the community. Angel Delight is neither angelic or delightful, and though not overly violent, it is a trap of limitations and perpetuation. As they talk, I thought of Langston Hughes poem Harlem and its iconic first line, What happens to a dream deferred? But for real, what does happen? People vented their frustration and their concerns (which sounded eerily similar to those in the US). They feel trapped and spent a great deal of time expressing that the children would be better if they could see other areas of city, country and world. They are literally trapped in Brixton and there are no counter narratives presented to make them think there is more to life. What happens to a dream deferred? Understanding why this is, I only had to look to the only White man (who I think helped plan the event) attending, who after hearing all this, asked the speaker if she could say something positive, to which she let out a hardy laugh (as did I). But this was just one side to my visit to Brixton. Walking back to the train station, I evidently walked through a wormhole and fell into the Twilight zone. I was in a different city. I was puzzled. The shopping market was completely clear, businesses that were open in the day were closed and new businesses were open. There were no brown faces out on the streets. I only saw whites. The street drumming and reggae music was replaced by serene silent of gentrification. The brown layer figuratively and literally had been pulled off of Brixton. It reminded me of when I was child playing outside moving logs. Logs exist in a seemingly concrete reality, but when you move them and looked under there was always another often more active world that’s affecting the log in ways you could not always see. The duality of Brixton, makes describing it in singular terms nearly impossible. It is Jekyll and Hyde. And in on one hand, it has two opposite personas that constitute a single place. On the other hand, it is one place represented by two personalities and understanding the interrelationship between the two, helps us comprehend Brixton’s identity. It also helps us understand the past, present and future dreams of the minorities in that area. But for real, what does happen to a dream deferred?
2 Comments
Pete Carver
6/4/2016 10:59:57 am
Great post! I'll add Brixton to my bucket list!
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Myron
6/5/2016 03:30:22 pm
It was so crazy
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Myron Strong
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