When home doesn't feel like home anymore...

A week of racism, riots and unrest has been exhausting beyond all belief....

Thanks for reading The Powder Room; a safe space to discuss beauty, body culture and identity. I give away a lot for free, so please upgrade to a paid subscription with extra content and access; it really means a lot.

The kind of graffiti I saw growing up - how much has changed?

I thought covid and the ensuing lockdown was the only time I’d be forced to stay inside for my own safety (look, we don’t get tornados or extreme weather on these here shores…) but as you may know this week has been tumultuous in the UK with far right unrest and riots affecting the entire country. I’ve spent much of the week close to home, and on guard, but on Wednesday we were told that over 100 riots were planned. So I spent the entire day inside, particularly after seeing the acts of violence against people of colour on social media. Having to stay inside for my safety, when it’s not a global virus, of universal threat, was a truly unsettling and destabilising feeling.

The feeling of being unsafe in your own country is something that I - like many people of colour in the west - know well. Where I grew up was idyllic in some ways; a small Welsh town with cute little houses and only one neighbourhood racist to contend with, which was pretty good odds back then. I played outside with the children from white Welsh families but come 4pm, for myself and another Pakistani kid it was always a reluctant home time. I loathed having to be inside for my own safety, and watched as everyone else played outside until dusk. An early curfew was one of the many differences between me and my white friends - certain areas of town, parks, and even sleepovers were off limits as it meant our parents weren’t close by. I felt like I was always being made to constantly feel different, when all I wanted as a kid was to fit in. But I fully understand their concern; to our families having us close to home meant we were safe from the racial and political unrest of the 1980s and 1990s when acts like ‘Paki bashing’ - attacking south asian people, property and businesses - was common parlance, and an ever-present threat if you were in the ‘wrong place at the wrong time.

These pro-immigration tube ads felt chilling when I saw them a few years ago…

My parents were born in India, and though they have British passports, they still identify as Indian. I envy that sense of belonging; they know who they are. For those like myself who are second generation (and onwards) knowing where you’re from is complex. All I’ve known is the UK; I’m British and was born here. But right now, Britain doesn’t feel like home or that safe at all. I’m fed up with adverts on the Tube (above) reminding people that immigrants aren’t bad, and that we have some ‘value’ to society so please be nice to us. I hate how the fear of violence or discrimination means we often police our behaviour most days, let alone when there’s racial unrest. When this week’s riots first started I found myself unconsciously smiling at white people, especially older ones, as if to reassure them that ‘we’re ok and quite nice, actually’. When I realised what I was doing, it gave me the same feeling I’ve had throughout my life of having to be small, to code switch to fit into the white office working culture and to be so good at my job and work so hard that I could go relatively unnoticed unless it was for praise. (Although that strategy doesn’t always pan out…if somebody needs a scapegoat, it will be you.)

What’s also been hard to watch is the videos of so-called liberals parodying working class ‘thugs’ as stupid and uneducated. Class rules don’t apply to people of colour; we’re always outsiders, no matter how much money we have - there are parts of society we’ll never really have access to. I just wish our otherness and the disenfranchisement that those in these riots are feeling could combine to take on the actual enemy; those at the top of the class system who have profited throughout history from keeping marginalised groups like people of colour and the working classes down.

I’m having a little break from social media for a few days. Seeing brands and people post their daily lives as if nothing is happening feels utterly jarring when this is all I can think about- and not out of choice. I’ve also been unsurprised that beauty and fashion brands have largely remained silent, because this is exactly what happened in 2020 after the murder of George Floyd. It wasn’t until they felt pressured to do so that they actually posted a black square on a grid and made vague promises about doing better. Now is the time to actually do that, and yet I’ve only seen a handful of British brands post anything denouncing the violence and racism. Why? Because the fear of potentially upsetting their white customers is palpable. In 2024 it’s also totally unjustifiable.

I’m not sure when this will end, or how. Most likely it’ll simmer down and fester until it boils over again, like that ‘overspill’ cupboard we keep filling, until it explodes out of sheer overwhelm. Even when the news cycle moves on, and it will, some of us will still be left with that sense of being unsafe in our home country. It’s a feeling that never truly leaves you, it just lies dormant until the next time.

Sending love and safety….

FURTHER READING…
-Upgrade your substack to paid here. 
-Buy ‘UGLY: Why the word became beauty obsessed and how to break free’ in the UK here, in the US here and click here to for other countries.
-Follow me on Instagram here
-Find out more about my work here.