There are some people who live forever bathed in the golden glow of collective folk memory: Floella Benjamin (with her dulcet tones), Tom Baker (with his scarf), Andi Peters (and all his cheerful enthusiasm). Add to that list Lenny Henry, who feels as familiar to me as a family friend – the magnanimous uncle who has always been there.
Now 57, Sir Lenny (he was knighted this year) has had a hell of a career. Much of it is so well-worn: how he got his big break, how he appeared on The Black And White Minstrel Show (which he now regrets), his role in co-founding Comic Relief, and so on. I’ve absorbed those details as though by osmosis. But I find myself most interested in his current incarnation: the one who blew me away with his performance in August Wilson’s Fences in 2013, and who now tackles Shakespeare. Older Lenny, who calls out the woeful representation of ethnic minorities in the media; who collects a Paving The Way award at the Mobos before delivering a barnstorming speech with the names of more than 60 “giants”, on whose shoulders he said he’d stood.
My feelings for Older Lenny are sharper: the pride is laced with awe, the warmth with gratitude. It can’t be fun debating your humanity over and over, and I find his grace in navigating those unpleasant waters quietly moving. It’s admirable that he’s chosen to say something – over and over, and despite criticism – about something as important as media representation. His Radio 4 series, Raising The Bar, is a small redress, showcasing the contributions of black British stars of stage and screen. I appreciate it.
