Dear Son,
I know it might seem strange, me writing to you when you are just a baby, but when you are old enough to read this, you will know why I had to write it now. We had anticipated your arrival for two weeks. Before your due date, I had planned to switch off my phone and disconnect from the world so I could focus all of my time on you. Then something terrible happened. On 25 May, a man named George Floyd was needlessly killed by police officers in America, simply because he was black. The news travelled to homes around the world, and no one could dismiss it.
It’s a sad fact that in some places, people with skin like yours and mine are not treated the same as others or with the respect they deserve. I knew that for the sake of your future I had to take a stand. Sadly, George was not the first person to die simply for being black. Millions of black people have suffered for generations. Somewhere along the way, the idea that white people are superior to others took root in society like a stubborn weed in a garden. People are so used to seeing it, they don’t appreciate that it’s choking the goodness out of our world.
It’s sometimes difficult to have conversations about racism in the UK, because it’s not always obvious. It’s not always just a bully calling you names. Sometimes it’s much harder to pin down than that. It’s about missed opportunities and negative judgments, which stop black people from ever feeling equal. Many aspects of racism that black people experience go un-noted or are flatly denied. Sometimes, in an effort to silence or avoid the harsh realities of the black experience, we are crammed together with other ethnic groups, defined by phrases such as “BAME”, “disadvantaged groups”, “minorities” and so on. In order for us to really make a change, we have to give each experience space to breathe.
Along my journey, I have come across many people who say that they understand the importance of creating a world with equal opportunities for black people. They know in their hearts that the world is not a fair place and they want to help, but often I have found they are looking for solutions that make them feel comfortable, as opposed to solutions that bring about meaningful change.
The truth is, no one is perfect. Even I cannot promise you that I will not make mistakes along my journey. The more I tried to strive for perfection the more I realised there is no “‘perfect”’, only improvement. You see, Zion, there comes a time where we must all hold up a mirror and see things for what they are. This includes those in seats of power, leadership and responsibility, using this mirror to evaluate our reality and their systems. What is systemic within our culture is not supportive of the change we are trying to make. People must understand that the comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there. To improve we must reflect, and the closest thing to perfection is reflection.
By the time you are 20, I want to see a world where black people are treated fairly and afforded the same opportunities as their white counterparts. A world where all nationalities exist side by side, with love and respect for each other’s differences. I want to see a world where a black person can confidently say they want to be the prime minister of the United Kingdom, France or Spain, or the leader of any country they are born and raised in for that matter, and for it not to feel unattainable or unlikely.
A world where we have adequate black representation across the boardrooms of all industries, where a black person can be the CEO of a major media conglomerate, film studio or record label, not just the person generating the multibillion-dollar creative output. A world where a black person can be the manager of a Premier League football club, or the CEO of the FA or Premier League itself, just as customarily as they are seen on the pitch.
I want to see a world where the real history of black people is taught as part of a decolonised curriculum, not a history that starts and ends with slavery. A world in which we are not conditioned to hate others but rather to expect the best, where kindness is the priority and happiness the goal.
I know it seems like a lot to ask, but the truth is, we have a long way to go. This is why I’m dedicating my next steps to you. I’m building the Black British Network, a UK alliance of black people and our non-black allies, those who are brave and forward thinking enough to stand with us, shoulder to shoulder and help create the change we need to see. To make sure that by the time you are 20 years old you are not fighting the same battles we had to fight.
Our focus will be to dismantle systemic racism and create an equal playing field for the economic advancement of the black community in the UK.
This is me sending you love from 2020, in the hope that when you read this letter, in however many years’ time, you will be able to see the changes we made and know that we made them for you, and so that many others like you can live and grow in peace.
This is my letter to you, Zion, my son and our future.
Sent with love and hope,
Dad
• Cephas Williams is a photographer and founder of the Black British Network. This is an abbreviated version of his Letter to Zion. For the full letter and to support the Black British Network, visit lettertozion.com
• To buy the Guardian’s Black history wallcharts, visit the Guardian bookshop and use code 15CHART for a 50% discount
