Trigger Warning: Sensitive Content: Social Violence & Fear
Over the past few weeks, England has seen a surge in anti-immigration protests, veiled under the guise of national pride but unmistakably driven by racism and bigotry. The loud and violent few have once again taken to the streets, but the impact of their actions extends far beyond those they openly target.
For me, this unrest has had a profound and unsettling effect. I am British by birth, not of an ethnic background that these extremists would single out. Yet, as someone with a marginalised identity, I find myself feeling just as vulnerable, just as wary. The hatred on display isn't limited to one group—it's a tide that pulls anyone different under its surface.
While I acknowledge my white privilege, it is the intersectionality of my marginalised aspects of identity that makes me vulnerable in these situations. I am fortunate to work from home, where I can choose not to face the world. But we shouldn’t have to make that decision—to choose between safety and living our lives freely. No one should feel punished for protecting themselves from the hatred and violence of others.
In the face of these protests, I’ve felt compelled to retreat. I’ve left my flat only once every seven days to step outside and remind myself that there is a world beyond these walls. Friends have told me I’m doing the right thing, taking my safety seriously. But what does it say about our society when protecting myself feels like a punishment?
The violence may have gone underground for now, but it never truly disappears. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the city's shadows, ready to emerge at any time. And that’s what so many people don’t see—the ever-present threat that simmers beneath the surface. It’s not just the physical acts of violence that keep us inside; it’s the knowledge that hatred is always out there, waiting.
I am not alone in feeling this way. For many of us with marginalised identities, whether due to gender, sexuality, race, or another factor, the fear is real. The recent unrest has only magnified it. We’re not the direct targets of these protests, but we’re caught in the crossfire nonetheless.
I wonder how many others are experiencing this sense of isolation and fear. How many of us stay indoors, limiting our lives, not because of who we are but because of what others might do to us? It’s a harsh reality that no one should have to endure, yet here we are—punished for the actions of a violent minority.
This isn’t the life any of us deserve. We deserve to walk down the street without fear and to live our lives without constantly looking over our shoulders. And yet, that freedom feels distant, almost unreachable, when the loudest voices are those of hatred.
As I reflect on this, I am reminded of the strength of our communities, even when they are tested in such painful ways. We may feel isolated, but we are not alone. There is power in sharing our stories and standing in solidarity with one another, even from behind closed doors.
This moment of social unrest is also an opportunity for a deeper reflection within organisations. It's a teaching moment to reaffirm the importance of workplace acceptance, inclusivity, and psychological safety.
Call to Action: I urge organisations to consider how these events affect their external communities and the internal dynamics within their teams. Are we doing enough to create environments where everyone feels safe, seen, and valued? Now is the time to double down on efforts, to listen to the voices of those who feel marginalised, and to ensure that safety isn't something anyone should have to compromise.
Let us use this as a moment of reflection—a time to highlight and recommit to our shared values of acceptance, equality, and respect. We can replace fear with acceptance, creating safe spaces where judgment is suspended. In these spaces, curiosity can flourish, leading to understanding without the need for defensiveness or fear. By fostering environments where people feel truly safe to express themselves, we can slowly dissolve the barriers of ignorance and bigotry that fuel unrest.
Finally, I ask: Am I alone in feeling this way? If my story resonates with you, let’s come together to align our efforts towards achieving safety for all. This includes women, LGBTQ+ people, and anyone else who has a marginalised aspect of their identity. Our collective action can ensure that we build a world where everyone can walk outside without fear, regardless of who they are.
In sharing this story, I hope to offer a glimpse into the impact of social unrest on marginalised identities and spark a conversation about how we can turn these moments of fear into opportunities for growth and learning. By working together, we can ensure that the violent minority does not dictate the lives of the majority.
I recognise that the primary targets of this violence are those from racial and ethnic minority backgrounds, and I stand in solidarity with them. Their voices are crucial in shaping the dialogue around these issues. At the same time, I want to share how this unrest also impacts those of us with other forms of marginalised identities.
If my message resonates with you or your organisation, I welcome the opportunity to work together. My goal is to contribute to creating safer spaces for all marginalised identities, including women, LGBTQ+ people, and those facing racial violence. By working together, we can ensure that the fight for safety and acceptance is inclusive of everyone who feels vulnerable in this climate.
Let’s come together to align our efforts towards achieving safety for all. Whether through speaking engagements, workshops, or collaborative efforts, your support helps ensure that no voice is left unheard and that our collective efforts build a more inclusive and understanding world.
Why I Delayed Speaking Out
You might wonder why I haven’t spoken out about this sooner. Quite simply, I was too scared. The surge in unrest, the hateful rhetoric, and the violent actions left me feeling vulnerable and unsure. It’s taken me time to process everything, understand my emotions, and find the strength to share my thoughts.
I needed that time to reflect, gather myself, and ensure that when I spoke, it would be from a place of sincerity and conviction. Having had the space to process my feelings, I’m ready to make my voice heard.
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