Che Guevara was not Cuban. This is my shorthand answer when English friends ask in a bemused fashion, a woman of Caribbean descent, born in the shire counties of England, without a drop of Scottish blood, is so passionate about Scottish Independence.
I could also add that, in fact, there may be Scottish
ancestry somewhere. With a name like Crawford lurking on the peripheries of my
family – the most likely explanation is a Scottish slave owner somewhere in the
past. We’ll leave that one.
I could go on to say that, even more so as a
mixed-race person born into a comfortable working-class household in the early 1960s,
I was aware in an abstract way that I was not only different from almost
everyone around me at school and everyone in my immediate neighbourhood but
also not entirely ‘in’ with the black immigrants of my maternal family when we
were in Birmingham. A sense of ‘other’ leads, I suspect, to lack of ties to
contemporary groups. The up-side is that I never felt the pull of peer pressure
as quite simply I felt I was never part of the group. Hence no peers to be
pressured by.
And on I could go, waffling into the long grass.
The truth I suspect is closer to the first short
explanation on which I will expand.
Sometimes you have fight in you. Sometimes you have an
innate sense of injustice. Where it comes from, I cannot say other than I’ve
always had it. I do not come from a political family but on leaving home to
study in Newcastle I was pretty soon engulfed in a political battle that could
not have been further from my roots if it had involved invaders from Mars; The
1984/5 Miners’ Strike. A battle ostensibly of white working-class men in an
industry I had no experience of and little knowledge of. But I campaigned, I
marched, I took the student buses to London and experienced first-hand the grim,
untethered aggression of angry ‘encounters’ involving a police force that knew
it had carte-blanche to horse charge and use batons whether against miners or students.
Thatcher’s collective punishment beating of the
working class marked a dark and dangerous turning point which began to unravel
the post-war gains for ordinary people. These significant gains were born of
the horrors of the Second World War and an acknowledgment that you could not
send ordinary people, en masse, to die on the battle fields, leave widows to
bring up children and continue to treat vast swathes of the populous as 3rd
class.
But it felt like my battle. Why? I could not have
explained at the time but it led in the end to me joining the Labour Party –
which is ironic as then leader Neil Kinnock arguably did little to support the
miners. Perhaps secretly hoping that Thatcher would clip the union’s wings and
curb some of the power of the very movement that was the genesis of the party
he led.
In reality there followed an avalanche of societal destruction
which may not have been obvious as such at the time (it was obvious to some
ref: Making it Public by Dexter Whitfield. Pluto Press 1983) but which –
looking back – was a wholesale restructuring of social orders, bringing us to a
present day where everything that was in private hands before that war – and
much that was not – is back in the hands of the wealthy – with this one caveat.
The state now subsidises these private entities and much of that money ends up
off-shore in private hands – very often foreign hands despite the Right Wingers
being the loudest to bleat about patriotism.
Later – though still young as a city councillor (at
23) I was one of a couple of lone voices to argue against what we called The
Poll Tax and was carpeted by then Council leader Jeremy Beecham and his creepy
side kick Tony Flynn. I made a nuisance of myself complaining about the abuse
of councillor’s expenses. This was back in the day when – despite the fact that
councils actually ran services directly rather than simply deciding which of
their mates to award contracts to – there was no stipend so those who thought
they were entitled used to ‘play the expenses system’ and Jeremy Beecham was
able to behave like a feudal lord handing out favours to the obedient in the
form of chair positions of prominent committees.
I won’t go on about that sad episode – suffice to say
– I couldn’t stomach it and after being elected a second term, I resigned before
its conclusion when I realised ‘dealing with’ bullying and abuse was pointless
– achieving nothing. I let my membership run until the illegal invasion of Iraq
then resigned that too and swore off party politics.
THEN I moved to Scotland.
What I discover was people with a strange accent
speaking my language. I found folk who – on the whole did not look like me but
with whom I felt a connection.
I discovered a political ideology that was what I’d
firstly assumed and then hoped The Labour Party was about.
I discovered a social structure – albeit imperfect and
horribly restricted by devilish devolution – that actually still cared about human
beings in a humane way.
It was a revelation.
And – what is even more astonishing is that – while I
did – many years later – get over my disgust at party politics and join the SNP
– I have found that the touchstone of my drive, my desire for justice, my need
for fairness, accountability and the dignity of people is served better in the
grass roots Independence movement – The Yes groups that are dotted over
Scotland, sparked by the 2014 referendum.
Why is this so odd? Well – in many ways the Yes groups
seem to me to be more ‘culturally’ Scottish than the SNP. So – as someone who’s
not a fan of haggis or bagpipes (though, who doesn’t like a guy in a kilt?) I
at first did not understand this affinity.
In fact, I’ve been on street stalls where other
English born people have wandered over for a chat and when we’ve laid out what
we do they respond – ‘oh, I’m English, it’s nothing to do with me’. To which
the collective response – in our group is – and in every group should be –
if you live in Scotland, it’s your business.
Why?
Sometimes you have the fight in you. You have the burning
need for justice. And what I re-discovered having discovered it once in the Miners’
Strike as a student – it doesn’t have to be your fight. It only needs to be a
parallel.
I cannot fight the injustice of my ancestors. There is
no land to reclaim, there is no route back to those roots. But the fight is in
me and I see a similar fight here and I want in. I want in really badly.
I want to see freedom, dignity and independence and
the right to self-governance for those who live in Scotland now as if it is my
freedom and my wrong.
It helps for purposes of clarity that Westminster –
whether under Labour or Conservative - has continued blindly and cruelly in the
colonial mindset and shows no empathy for the ordinary people of this land. It
helps that they have shown a callousness that is unequivocal whether it be to
the tens of thousands of Middle Eastern civilians they condemned to body bags
and unmarked graves in Iraq and subsequently Gaza. It helps rub out any
distinction on this side now they have abandoned poor children, the homeless,
the elderly, women and young people. Is there anyone the incumbents of
Westminster have not abandoned in the pursuit of power?
It is sad that large swathes of the populous have
swallowed the lies that economic woes and decline are the fault of the poor,
the destitute and the migrant. Have they squandered the wealth of land and
industry? No. Nothing could be further from the truth.
In a post-Brexit society where bigotry has been
legitimised and the last and current Westminster administrations have failed to
move public focus away from migrant-blaming in order to protect the failures of
the historic ruling classes and their increasing, stand subsidised fortunes, it
behoves the more enlightened Scottish government and the grass-roots
independence movement to shift the dial.
We must openly acknowledge the historic contributions
of generations of migrants have made to Scotland.
We must loudly celebrate the energy, hard work, and
vitality of those who have chosen to make this their home.
In the interests of a strong, united, successful
future independent Scotland we must be unequivocal about its welcome to those
who come here to raise families, contribute to the nation of Scotland.
We must not only continue to reject the harmful,
corrosive, poisonous scapegoating of the vulnerable – whether on a domestic
level or those fleeing countries devastated by Westminster’s continuing
colonial mindset but to make sure that – as the situation is now, clearly
vacant – Scotland welcomes ‘the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to
breathe free’. Because migrants have always nourished the worn soil of tired
nations from the Irish road builders and potato pickers to Romanian nurses, Polish
plumbers and African care workers and it is – as we all know – the avaricious
few at the top of the pile who suck society dry.
That truth has been turned on its head and we need to
openly and publicly and loudly set the record straight.
Not only is that the right thing to do it opens the
door to welcoming in a whole army of friends and new allies to the Independence
movement who are still ambiguous as to whether it has anything to do with them.
The battle is upon us.
Yes, lethargy and the disconnect of a populous that is
weary and disengaged is against us.
A complicit predominantly right-wing media is against
us.
The monied interests that rely on tax subsidies to
shore up their profits are against us.
The narrative that our failing infrastructure and
crumbling services are the fault of desperate people in boats and the feckless
on benefits is as unwavering as it is untrue.
The cowardice of those who gain power and then do not
wish to rock the boat they float in is against us.
But we must fight anyhow.
And, whatever their colour or creed, I’ll stand next
to anyone who will stand next to me.
*
Thanks for reading.
As always do check out my audio stuff on Bandcamp and My BOOKS
Also - if you have kids - I've opened up the poetry for children (rather rough) vids that I put on youtube for my grandkids - so enjoy these too Fruit Salad Person
The last one is a bit bonkers but remember I put them up for my grandkids...