The art of rap

Rap music has established itself firmly within popular culture and become a credible art of expression. The label of rap has come to be synonymous with lyricism and rightly so. Indeed, in spite of their origins in the grime scene, lyrically proficient artists like Scorcher, Wretch 32, Kano and Durrty Goodz are commonly regarded as rappers in denoting their penchant for lyricism. Nonetheless, despite its roots in artistic expression, rap struggles to achieve universal recognition as a legitimate art.

As a genre underpinned by storytelling, lyricism is a cornerstone of rap. The ability to articulate tales with imagery, metaphors, double entendres and other wordplay, all the while doing so through intricate rhyming patterns, is no throwaway skill. Nor is the range of emotions and perspectives rap is able to create with words. From the vivid narrative of inner city life in Skinnyman’s Council Estate of Mind, to Lowkey’s incredibly moving and personal Bars for my Brother, rap clearly isn’t limited to its woefully flawed and narrow stereotype of boisterousness and braggadocio.

The attributes of rap wouldn’t be amiss if discussing poetry or literature in academic or cultured circles. After all, spoken word artists like George the Poet demonstrate the synergy between rap and poetry. However, hip hop culture typically doesn’t portray a likeness that is befitting of more traditional performing arts.

For many outside of the culture, being unable to see past this image is part of the issue. Institutionalised and largely social prejudice can lead to a closed mind in failing to realise the art that is present within rap. Rap, like other MC-based genres, is typically dominated by artists from working class or lower socio-economic backgrounds and largely blacks, Hispanics and other ethnic minorities. Most rappers therefore project many of the sensibilities and vernacular found in their communities. As a result, the image they portray can become a distraction for anyone that would usually expect such well-articulated rhetoric from a middle class, well-spoken individual. In fact, just as it is often perceived in wider society, it’s almost a display of chutzpah for someone of a certain class or ethnicity to offer intelligent and coherent discourse, let alone via the medium of rap.

An inability to empathise with an unfamiliar lifestyle contributes to this blinkered outlook. Many rappers provide social commentary that is instead confused with glamorisation of a negative side of life. But it’s said lack of empathy that feeds the ignorance of this stance.

As the then leader of the opposition, David Cameron criticised Tim Westwood’s Radio 1 rap show for playing music that "encourages people to carry guns and knives". Admittedly, some of the content played by Westwood would probably have done just that – and not too articulately either. But some would have provided narratives of a life that Cameron has never been and never will be able to relate to. Yet his broad criticism illustrates how dismissive someone with his perspective can be of the merits of rap – all the while reserving admiration for traditional art forms that in essence share similarities with the genre.

In literature, Charles Dickens’ ability to provide compelling social commentary and critique is frequently praised. But albeit a different art of storytelling, the principles of Dickens’ work, or indeed William Shakespeare’s, are no different to much rap. The parallels might be subtle to some, but they’re certainly evident for anyone open-minded enough to appreciate them. Furthermore, just as Dickens’ and Shakespeare’s works are appreciated for their strength of storytelling and the vivid pictures they paint, so should rap be.

Never Change, Jay-Z’s introspective account of his life “before rap”, provides an example of the imagery rap can evoke through lyricism. The lyrics “keep coke in coffee, keep money smelling mothy” create a scene for the listener that is undeniable poetic. You can almost smell the residual scent of coffee while imagining the texture of used and dirty dollar bills touching your fingers against a backdrop of drug paraphernalia. And that’s without having any experience of the life he’s referring to, nor feeling it’s a life that’s being glamorised. The assonance and the consonance, the cadence and the soulful production that samples the David Ruffin classic, Common Man, all contribute to creating this picture so deftly that it cannot be described as anything but powerfully poetic. With material like this, how could anyone deny rap as an art?

Alas, part of the problem lies in the other side of rap. Notwithstanding the lyricists within the genre, there are also the likes of Soulja Boy, waiting to spew garbage lyrics over production that sounds like it was created using a toy keyboard. There’s also the cringeworthy ignorance that rap music sadly isn’t immune from, as showcased by Kanye West’s verse on Clique –

"you know, white people get money don’t spend it/or maybe they get money, buy a business/I rather buy 80 gold chains and go ig’nant/I know Spike Lee gon’ kill me but let me finish/blame it on the pigment, we living no limits"

The ignorance and stupidity of those lyrics are arguably more damaging for the perception of black culture than rap culture. But they certainly do rap music no favours. Instead, they merely pander to the negative stereotype that hip hop culture struggles to distance itself from in asserting itself as an art rather than a modern day minstrel show. Unfortunately such offerings are so disposable that they permeate mainstream culture with ease and are sadly passed off as representations of rap.

Chasing commercial success can also diminish rap’s ability to be taken seriously. Drake is arguably one of the better ‘current’ mainstream rappers and I was an early supporter of his earlier material including the So Far Gone mixtape (that’s when it was still a free mixtape rather than an EP for sale). Though presumably in a bid to experience mainstream success, much of his subsequent material has seen its quality diminished. This dichotomy between commercialism and authentic culture isn’t exclusive to rap. Nonetheless, it’s a disappointment when commercialism triumphs to the extent that the culture is compromised, especially when it devalues what the culture has to offer.

Rap should be recognised and respected with the same regard as other literary or performing arts. The genre does present content that might not be as commonplace within more traditional performing arts, but that needn’t detract from its relevance or credibility as a form of expression. If anything, that’s meant it’s managed to articulate the experiences of those who often aren’t given a voice to do so themselves. Rap is a legitimate art and despite it not conforming to traditional notions of artistic expression, it deserves to be recognised as such.

Stop denigrating fathers

Depending on your social network or forum of choice, Father’s Day usually sees a mixed response to the intended celebration of fathers. On one hand, there are the complimentary posts lauding fathers for the part they play in their child’s life. Indeed, this isn’t dissimilar to Mother’s Day when such sentiments are echoed with reverence and without exception – and rightly so. However, on Father’s Day, such remarks are punctuated with negativity and disdain for fathers with comments like “happy sperm donor day” being bandied about. It’s disappointing to read and hugely disrespectful and unfair to the majority of good fathers that exist. Furthermore, it’s indicative of the often negative view of fathers that manifests itself within society and needs to stop.

Personally, I’m not too enthused by celebrations such as Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. I’m not averse to them per se, but I question the need for an annual ‘special’ (not to mention commercial) day when I am a good son and grandson all year round. Nonetheless, it’s nice to observe such days to honour a parent, grandparent or special person who has fulfilled such a role in your life. Therefore, when it comes to Father’s Day, why would anyone want to detract from that with disparaging comments?

As a man, I can certainly concede that there are some of my gender that are bad fathers. Whether that be because they’re absent from their child’s lives, don’t provide support (financial or otherwise) or mistreat their children, bad fathers exist. And by the same token, so do bad mothers. Unfortunately, regardless of their sex, bad parents exist and there isn’t any merit in merely highlighting the parental transgressions of just one gender. All it serves to do is take away from the good parenting of fathers who exercise fatherhood with great responsibility and pride.

The perception of gender roles in society has come to devalue the role of a father and erroneously suggest fathers are secondary to mothers. Biologically, a mother’s role is incomparable to that of a father. Though when it comes to nurture, guidance and support in raising a child, both parents play an equally important part. Mothers and fathers bring respective attributes to parenting and neither should be seen to supersede the other by default. Yet often, fathers are portrayed almost as second class parents and that’s mirrored in society.

Single fathers receive nowhere near the same kudos as single mothers do; they often get overlooked as even existing. And up until 2011, paternity leave in the UK was two weeks in contrast to up to a year for maternity leave. What kind of a signal does that send to society about the value of fathers in contrast to mothers?

Where a couple has separated, fathers are much more likely to encounter difficulties in obtaining reasonable custody if no longer on amicable terms with the mother of their child. Some would argue that bad fathers have set a precedent upon which to support the rationale for the status quo. And to an extent, they have. But what about the good fathers who exist? They shouldn’t be denied access to their children for the mistakes made by bad fathers before them. Despite mixed views on organisations like Fathers 4 Justice, it cannot be argued against that at the crux of their campaign is fairer and equal custody of children between couples who have separated or divorced. That’s a far cry from the proposition that fathers are more likely to be nonchalant toward and shirk their parental duties.

The assumption and unequal weighting of the value placed upon a mother and a father was dramatised in the custody battle in Kramer vs. Kramer. The film also challenged the way motherhood and fatherhood was seen and since its release, outlooks on parenting and gender roles have modernised. Although many of the attitudes in the film are still apparent in modern society.

Those who continue to denigrate fathers in suggesting their parental responsibilities are more often than not reneged upon, should reconsider their views. Yes, bad fathers exist and they don’t deserve to carry the label or honour of being a father. Nonetheless, that doesn’t mean other fathers should be tarred with the same brush, and certainly not on a day when fatherhood is being celebrated. Furthermore, the proponents of such views should examine why most of the fathers they know and interact with seem to fit the ‘sperm donor’ tag. Surely said individuals represent a common denominator amongst such men? Perhaps they need to also look at themselves before making such generalisations.

Fatherhood should be seen on par with motherhood and attitudes in society shouldn’t reflect the contrary. Good parenting, regardless of it being paternal or maternal, should be acknowledged and celebrated, not diminished by the negative actions of others. Sadly, there will probably always be bad fathers. But they do not represent all fathers and they shouldn’t be allowed to become the poster child for fatherhood. Needless to say, there are more than enough good fathers for that to not be the case and some people could do with remembering that.

Audley, please call it a day

In the build up to their fight, David Price said of Audley Harrison “he more or less wrote the book on what not to do when he turned professional”. And few, probably including Harrison, would beg to differ. A gold medalist at the Sydney Olympics in 2000, a £1 million deal with the BBC and a household name, Harrison appeared to be embarking on a successful career upon turning professional. But eventually it all went pear-shaped and Harrison became a ridiculed figure within a noble sport.

Deciding to fight under his own promotional company, Harrison went nineteen fights undefeated. Although his opponents offered no discernible challenge or progress as he added hollow victories to his record. All the while, Harrison continued his rhetoric of progressing to a world title, albeit not fighting anyone noteworthy to suggest he was actually on world level. Not to mention, his performances weren't befitting of a world class fighter either.

Throughout his career, I've always felt Harrison’s problem has been mental rather than related to his ability. Indeed, Harrison would appear to have the makings of a credible fighter. He's just never fulfilled it.

In an age of the ‘big’ heavyweight boxer, Harrison’s frame isn't out of place in the division. Unlike many modern heavyweight fighters who lack the discipline to stay in shape and instead carry a spare tyre into the ring, Harrison clearly puts in work when in the gym. He moves well for a big fighter and while he’s rarely shown it, he's technically proficient. Mentally, he’s just failed to put it all together and turn up when it matters.

Unfortunately for Harrison, when it has looked like he might actually turn up, so have his opponents. Deontay Wilder took 70 seconds to stop Harrison. Few, if any, fighters would have withstood Price’s right hand and Michael Sprott caught Harrison with a lucky yet big shot that appeared to surprise even Sprott himself in their first fight. And while I don’t think Harrison was as confident as he claimed when he fought David Haye, Haye was always going to be too fast and too strong for him to contain – even if Harrison had thrown more than one punch in what was an embarrassing performance. Conversely, Harrison has shown glimpses of what he can do when he's on point.

Harrison clinically dismantled Danny Williams with a third round KO to avenge his defeat from their first fight. Effectively spending the entire fight fighting with one hand against Sprott in their second meeting, he dug deep and showed heart to get a 12th round KO with a huge left hook. And in winning the recent Heavyweight instalment of Prizefighter, Harrison was given a huge confidence boost going into his fight with Wilder. That said, I didn't read too much into his success in the tournament as it doesn't necessarily translate into success within the traditional format of boxing; his loss to Wilder proved that. Moreover, none of his notable victories have been beyond domestic or European level.

Failure to make his mark in a division that’s been largely moribund since he turned professional is telling of Harrison. Furthermore, at 41 time is not on his side in the context of his boxing career. The Klitschko brothers’ domination of the heavyweight division, with their handpicked opponents and unexciting and methodical yet effective styles, is unlikely to run for much longer. Vitali has probably already drafted the press release announcing his retirement and his decision to pursue his political aspirations. And Wladimir probably has another few years before he too decides to call it a day. But new stars such as Price and Wilder are emerging and they've already deftly handled Harrison. Similarly, David Haye is returning from his so-called retirement and is likely to win world titles. Therefore the likelihood of Harrison's aspiration of winning a world title being realised in the near future, let alone navigating his way to a title shot, seems even more lofty and unlikely.

Ridicule has become commonplace when discussing Harrison’s boxing career and boos have almost become a soundtrack to his shows. However, he doesn't deserve the opprobrium he’s received in the manner in which it’s been delivered. Aside from his Olympic medal, Harrison successfully campaigned for increased funding for British amateur boxing; the legacy of which is arguably the current successes of Team GB boxing. Yet his performances in the ring have overshadowed his achievements and diminished his respect where it’s due.

Harrison serves as a cautionary tale for any young boxer turning professional and working with such fighters would be a way for him to remain in the sport. If Harrison wants to stay in or around the ring, it certainly shouldn't be with him as a fighter and he needs to call it a day.

If a refusal to quit and, as some might say, delusion, counted for anything, Harrison would have already unified the heavyweight division. Instead, it's merely served to fuel the derision he’s been subject to throughout his career. Harrison’s sadly best known for his lacklustre and sometimes embarrassing performances in the ring than his Olympic gold medal. The best thing he can do for his career is to end it without further ado.

The misconception of tax and welfare

Nobody likes paying tax. Though for most people and businesses, it’s an unavoidable and legal, and arguably social and moral, responsibility. However, there is an increasing misconception about the use of taxes and a disconnect in how wider society benefits from tax revenue as a whole. Part of this is derived from the flawed and ignorant perception that taxes fund public services that bear no relevance on people’s day-to-day lives, and welfare that merely supports the “lazy” and “workshy”. As a result, for many, there’s resentment in paying tax without the realisation that it benefits everyone.

The reality is that tax isn’t universally realised as a contribution to society. That’s resulted in an ignorant belief where some people feel they aren’t seeing much for their taxes, while others who don’t pay tax, do.

Public services aren’t just for the poor, they’re for the public. And that means everyone. Yet the provision of public services is often ignored by those who would argue they see no personal “return” on their taxes. In fact, many are quick to take for granted the universal access to state education, healthcare and other vital public services that at some point everyone has benefited from. Moreover, that stance is often heightened when considering local authorities and the services they provide.

Council tax represents only a fraction of the money local authorities have to spend, with the remainder coming from central government grants and councils’ revenue streams such as rent, fees and other charges. But despite their low profile in contrast to central government, local authorities have a huge remit in providing public services that affect people’s day-to-day lives.

Children’s services, education, environmental services, licensing and planning are just some of the services provided by local authorities that have a direct impact on everyone. Nonetheless, some people would inexplicably argue that they see little benefit from local authorities or from paying council tax.

Part of these attitudes stem from the government’s socially divisive approach in demonising the public sector and, on a second front, those that rely on the welfare system. On the latter especially, some people have sadly taken the bait and furthered the misconceptions around welfare, who receives it and the circumstances that led them to be in that position. Unsurprisingly, that’s just increased some people’s resentment in paying tax.

Contrary to popular belief, not everyone in receipt of benefits is a teenage single mother who repeatedly fails to practice birth control or any other Daily Mail-esque twisted and deeply offensive stereotype. Furthermore, welfare isn’t intended as a subsidy for the lazy, it’s for the vulnerable in maintaining a fairer society.

Aside from pensioners, many people receiving benefits are actually working but on low wages that don’t enable a basic standard of living. The disabled are also eligible for benefits to assist with extra costs caused by their disability. Broadly speaking, most benefit claimants are simply victims of wider social problems such as high unemployment and unaffordable housing. Do they not deserve the support of a system that is contributed to by the taxes of those that are more fortunate?

The welfare reform being introduced targets a section of society that has become the go-to scapegoat. At the same time, the 50p tax rate is also being abolished for high earners – no wonder there’s a growing sentiment of ‘them and us’.

Reform of some kind is necessary to ensure the vulnerable, not the minority who abuse the system, have access to benefits while reducing a rising and untenable welfare bill. I’m not exactly a benefit sympathiser as where the system has been abused or unnecessarily depended upon, I’ve seen the negative impact it can have on communities and local economies for generations. Yet this group actually counts for the minority and there’s a distinct lack of empathy for those that are genuine claimants and a disregard for the situation that led them to needing support.

The bedroom tax for example will see recipients of housing benefit who are deemed to have a spare room in social housing losing 14% of their housing benefit. If they’re deemed to have two or more spare rooms, they’ll lose 25% of their housing benefit. The government claims this will result in a more efficient use of social housing and help to reduce the housing benefit bill which I agree is very much needed. But many tenants will be penalised for additional rooms they need for medical reasons or other valid circumstances that have been overlooked by the government. The state of social housing isn’t their fault yet they’re being made to pay the price for it.

Another often ignored reason for the rising housing benefit bill is the number of largely middle class buy-to-let homeowners. Many will rent to low-income or unemployed tenants in receipt of housing benefit, knowing the rent will be met by the state. They’ll therefore charge high rents with no moral consideration. Seemingly, when it’s the middle classes who are the culprits of being a drain on welfare, the vitriol from the government and others isn’t quite the same.

Given the perception of welfare and public services, some view their taxes as almost being a penalty for hard work that merely gets diverted to the undeserving. The bigger picture of the social gains provided by taxes gets lost in the diatribe. Consequently, these attitudes gradually erode any sense of social cohesiveness.

Taxes aren’t an exclusive subsidy for the low paid or unemployed, nor do they fund public services that only benefit the “have-nots”. The ignorance and aloofness that leads to this misconception is hugely flawed and only serves to perpetuate a fallacy that is increasingly damaging to society.

Urban film – art imitating inner city life but occasionally a contemporary minstrel show

Urban film has become a popular genre within contemporary cinema. Often gritty tales of inner city life brought to the screen for those that can relate to them, or those that can’t and are therefore enthralled by the cinematic portrayals of a life unknown, provide the potential for compelling cinema. Yet with its popularity growing, urban film has produced offerings that sought to move away from its principles in a bid to make itself more accessible. In the process, substance has sometimes been trumped by superficiality and what were once tales of reality have occasionally become parodies of inner city life.

The genre has produced classics that were seminal at the time of their release. John Singleton’s Boyz N the Hood transcends genres with its significance and brilliance and it continues to receive critical acclaim for its portrayal of life in South Central Los Angeles. It tells a story of inner city life that revealed a side of American society many remained ignorant to or simply chose to ignore. Furthermore, it shared parallels with any neighbourhood scarred by social deprivation and all of its trappings; not just in America but worldwide. Doughboy’s poignant monologue of “either they don’t know, don’t show or don’t care about what’s goin’ on in the ‘hood” resonates with anyone that has felt their life and environment has been neglected by wider society and governments. The setting of South Central LA added to the legitimacy and credibility of the film but its writing and performances were what ensured its success.

Similarly, Noel Clarke’s Kidulthood and Adulthood both showed inner city life from a British perspective that had rarely been seen or at least not portrayed so deftly. Both films serve as microcosms of youth culture in inner city Britain, thus articulating the experiences of a section of British society (admittedly not exclusively) that would otherwise remain untold beyond the environment in which they originate. The Class/Entre les Murs, set in an inner city Parisian school, also achieves this but set against a backdrop of multicultural French society. Urban film is clearly a successful vehicle in producing art based on inner city life. Though as it has grown in popularity and broader appeal, so has the scope for its films to become watered down and lacking in credibility.

Where urban film, and indeed television, has drawn from hip hop and grime influences or that of wider working class culture, it would be expected to add to its realism. The dialogue, the soundtrack and the visuals are part and parcel of inner city life for many. Alas, some filmmakers don’t appear to understand this isn’t a substitute for substance.

For some, urban film may appear to offer nothing more than dialogue punctuated with colloquialisms and profanity, a hip hop or grime soundtrack (with a few badly performed cameos from the artists), characters that serve to perpetuate stereotypes and an element of crime or some other negativity for good measure. Although where the more credible films differ is their ability to reflect the society they’re based upon beyond a crude and shallow representation. Surely that should be what the genre strives to create. Yet instead it sometimes has a tendency to pander to the ignorant perception it is often subject to and should be seeking to refute. In the process, it also dumbs down the very culture it should be portraying and makes for ‘fast food’ art.

Other genres of film have identified the commercial appeal of injecting diluted aspects of urban culture into their films. I reluctantly watched Attack the Block, a horror comedy where a social housing estate is attacked by aliens and defended by a group of teenagers. Admittedly I wasn’t overwhelmed by the film so I won’t pass judgement on the plot. But as for the dialogue, the vernacular was often forced and the ‘urban’ element of the film just seemed contrived. Conversely, for anyone unfamiliar with the culture, that might not have been apparent which is in itself important for urban film to realise.

Film is such a powerful tool in disseminating images that can easily produce misrepresentations. For someone who has no access to inner city life, watching a portrayal of said experiences is likely to be deemed accurate as they have no reference upon which to compare it with. Hence characters and stories need to be well-developed and not one-dimensional to enable audiences to connect with rather than alienated by them.

Urban film represents the culture it seeks to portray and there are examples where it has done so with depth in producing classic films. Though as its commercialism grows, so does the inclination to depart from an honest and multilayered representation. That doesn’t mean every film from the genre needs to take itself seriously or shouldn't be subject to artistic licence. But if it’s going to borrow from the culture it seeks to reflect, it should do it properly.

Can cultural values and identities survive within second generation diasporas?

My parents, and the parents of many of my peers, came to the UK as part of the wave of emigration from former British colonies to “the mother country”. They had spent up to their formative years in the Caribbean and fully assimilated the culture of their respective nations before arriving in the UK. Their story is typical of the time, especially for those emigrating from the Caribbean, South Asia and Africa where colonial ties, labour shortages in the UK and rising unemployment in former colonies were just some of the contributors to the UK becoming a new home for many. This was also the case for America, Canada and several countries in Europe throughout the twentieth century. Consequently, immigrant communities have since seen second generations born in states other than those of their origin.

As a by-product of immigration, ‘hybrid’ cultural identities have developed. These reflect cultural heritage while embracing the values and identities of the countries in which these communities currently reside. But what of these diasporas’ ‘original’ cultural identities? Have these become diluted as second generations form their own identities that may supersede what their parents and grandparents knew? And if so, is it only a matter of time before said cultures become diminished?

Being born to West Indian parents, I share an affinity with the respective nations of my parents and of course the land of my birth. On the former, I’m familiar with the culture, I understand the dialect of my parents’ respective nations and I’m aware of the region’s history and current affairs. And while my cooking might not be anywhere as extensive of a culinary repertoire of West Indian food as my parents, it’s to an extent that can reflect my heritage within my diet.

On the other hand, there are some of my generation that aren’t well-versed with the culture and heritage of their family background. This begs the question whether or not they will be able to pass on their parents’ culture to their own children. And with the increase of interracial relationships, preserving one’s culture can be perceived as an even bigger, but not insurmountable, challenge when it comes to subsequent generations.

As a young child, learning of your parents’ culture is often embraced. Tales of rich experiences that differ from those of your peers provide something tangible that also offers an explanation for your own identity. Going to a Saturday school or similar to learn the language and culture of your family is a common experience for many ethnic minority children – and one that often isn’t questioned. That’s until adolescence when it then becomes the reason why you can’t go to the park or the cinema with your friends whose weekends don’t include such activities. As a result, what was once enthusiasm for learning about your culture can sometimes turn to resentment and apathy, at least until you gain the maturity to appreciate it. Of course, this isn’t the case for everyone but it’s an experience I expect many can relate to. It can also be a turning point in observing any diminishing of cultural roots within the second generation of a diaspora.

For many, multiculturalism rightly shapes new identities and a compromise has to be made between the culture experienced at home and outside. This isn’t negative and often the two can complement each other. Furthermore, it needn’t signal the extinction of identities and values experienced in the home and amongst family.

The size and insularity of a diaspora can add to the strength and longevity of a culture. While the latter might not contribute to healthy multiculturalism, it does however, help to preserve culture. A sizeable community too can help to retain links with the country from which it migrated, often forging cultural and economic links that create a reciprocal relationship. After all, if a community seeks access to authentic cultural experiences, the country from which it migrated is happy to serve thriving and profitable markets overseas.

The availability of Bollywood and Nollywood films catering for the large audiences outside of India and Nigeria respectively, illustrate this. Similarly, the south Asian wedding market outside of the Indian subcontinent is a huge industry that south Asians worldwide heavily contribute to.

As long as a diaspora exists as a profitable market, the more likely the country it migrated from will continue to provide it with the cultural ties it yearns. And in an age of the internet and e-commerce, the barriers that may have once restricted this are increasingly disappearing.

Language too provides a preservation of culture. It’s a binding feature of shared identity, even for those that have never set foot in the land from which it originated. Indeed, I have many British born friends whose first language was actually the language of their parents instead of English. While I have mixed views on this (I think it’s more appropriate that both languages are learnt alongside each other, rather than the learning of English being secondary or not until school, to enable a child to fully communicate and integrate into British society and in the home), I do consider it important for second and subsequent generations to learn the language of their family. Language is an enduring feature of any community’s identity. Moreover, no doubt as a legacy of colonialism, it’s something that regrettably doesn’t exist to the same extent within my own culture where local dialects and patios are spoken alongside English.

There are precedents for cultural identities surviving within second generations and beyond. As a nation with a history of immigration, America has Irish, Jewish, Italian and latterly Hispanic communities to name a few, that have retained their cultural identity several generations after they first emigrated. They’ve also experienced a strong presence that has maintained their culture while contributing to American society.

A sense of pride and awareness of one’s culture shouldn’t be lost in subsequent generations, nor should it be at the expense of embracing the identity of one’s place of birth and residence. The key is achieving the balancing act that is the cornerstone of successful multiculturalism and with it, remembering the identities and values of the communities that contribute to it.

Is Django Unchained worthy of the controversy?

When I saw the initial trailers for Django Unchained, it certainly captured my attention. Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino, a stellar cast and a plot where the protagonist is a freed black slave who becomes a bounty hunter seemed to make for a promising if not contentious film. Although even before its release, Django Unchained was met with both controversy and acclaim. On one side there’s been criticism based on the argument that the film presents a parody of slavery. Conversely, it’s been praised by many for the retribution of a black protagonist against the backdrop of slavery. However, while I understand both perspectives, I don’t wholly agree with either and many people have simply confused the issues brought up by the film.

Before I’d seen Django Unchained, I had many conversations about the merits or otherwise of a film set during slavery that was subject to Tarantino’s artistic licence. Similarly, the controversy surrounding the film was well documented. Spike Lee refused to watch it, arguing it was “disrespectful to my ancestors” and Louis Farrakhan claimed reactions to the film would be “preparation for a race war”. Both reactions would appear to most to be hyperbole. Nevertheless, while I don’t agree with either statement, I can understand the subjective rationale that would lead to their views.

Admittedly, some scenes in the film did get me slightly heated. But unlike Farrakhan’s suggestion, I certainly didn’t feel inclined to prepare for a “race war”. Indeed, a film that borrows inaccurately from slavery, perhaps even becoming a parody of the era, can subjectively be perceived as disrespectful to enslaved blacks and does raise the question of its appropriateness. Yet a bigger question is how a film like Django Unchained can manage such commercial success while wider society still isn’t ready to have a candid discussion about slavery. Amidst the criticism, controversy and praise of the film, this was a question that was lost on most.

Candid discussion of slavery, and its long term impact, has become almost taboo in contemporary society. As a result, the film industry and mainstream cinema audiences have a cautious appetite for authentic, honest and non-sensationalist films about the slave trade, especially from the perspective of enslaved blacks. Django Unchained was never going to provide such a depiction of slavery and anyone that pinned their hopes on that being the case was very much mistaken.

What some critics of the film failed to understand is that Django Unchained is a fictional film and a historically inaccurate one at that. For that reason there shouldn’t be an expectation for it to portray anything of historical relevance or value. Not to mention, the film had little to do with slavery and instead used slavery as a backdrop for the actual plot. While it could be argued by some that this was in bad taste, it cannot be said that Tarantino has belittled slavery per se in making a film that isn’t actually about the slave trade.

What appears to also lie behind some of the disdain for Django Unchained is that it was made by Tarantino as a white man. Amongst the critics, there does appear to be some discontent at a white man making a film that is set during slavery yet almost a spoof of the era. However, Tarantino being white is irrelevant in any contempt one might have for the film as it represents his creative direction and not his race.

Where I do take issue with Tarantino, and again not because of his race, is his comment that Roots wasn’t authentic. Roots might not have been historically accurate but it was a lot closer to being factually authentic than Django Unchained is (and that isn’t a criticism either). For Tarantino to critique the authenticity of Roots when discussing a film as historically inaccurate as Django Unchained therefore does seem inappropriate.

On the other side of popular opinion on Django Unchained, I’ve also been confused by the reasoning behind some of the praise it’s received.

Django Unchained was oddly lauded by some as offering a sentiment of black empowerment due to Django’s retribution. While I enjoyed seeing Django’s vengeance and the rescuing of his wife, it definitely wasn’t on the basis of me identifying with a fictional former slave turned bounty hunter. Nor did I derive any sense of empowerment from the film either. It’s an ignorant and ludicrous suggestion and to paraphrase Chris Rock discussing black people celebrating OJ Simpson’s acquittal, black people haven’t won anything because of Django Unchained.

Parody or otherwise, Tarantino didn’t make a film that told the story of slavery but instead the story of Django, his retribution and the rescuing of his wife. I thought the film was decent but definitely not Tarantino’s best work, nor worthy of the criticism or acclaim it’s received on both sides. Despite Tarantino’s films typically seeking shock value, I wasn’t as taken aback by Django Unchained as I’d expected either.

I don’t agree with much of the controversy surrounding Django Unchained but I can understand the subjective perspectives that have led to it. Nonetheless, there are wider issues on how slavery is depicted and discussed in contemporary society that have been neglected as part of the debate surrounding the merits of the film. Any meaningful discussion should instead focus on this rather than ignorantly praising the film for a non-existent connection to black empowerment or stating the obvious in commenting on its fictional and inaccurate portrayal of slavery. Ironically, for all the controversy, such discussion is yet to come to the fore.

The Asian pursuit of matrimony – an outsider’s perspective

Recently, I met some friends for lunch. Everyone at the table was either approaching or already in their early thirties and, with the exception of me, Asian (by Asian I mean of South Asian descent i.e. being of the Indian subcontinent). As some might have deemed inevitable given the demographic of our group, the conversation eventually turned to relationships. But as the only non-Asian at the table, it quickly became apparent that my perspective on marriage and relationships was different from everyone else’s. Nonetheless, this made me reflect on the Asian pursuit and perception of marriage and the extent to which it isn’t actually that dissimilar to western ideals.

In its ignorance, western media and attitudes can often be quick to disparage traditional Asian views on marriage. And as a result, there’s a lot that is misunderstood. While I’m not of the sizeable Asian diaspora that exists in the UK, I’m reasonably familiar with Asian culture and the significance it holds for marriage. Although while this isn’t different from other cultures where marriage is often aspired to and celebrated, what stands out in Asian culture is the pressure many feel is placed upon them to get married.

Typically, there’s an expectation placed on second generation Asians to become academically and professionally successful before getting married to someone that “looks good” in the eyes of their community.

Consequently, as Asians who are yet to be married enter their mid-to-late twenties and thirties, the pressure to do so ramps up. Websites like shaadi.com (notably a ‘matrimonial’ rather than dating website) and other ‘mainstream’ dating sites are registered with in expediting the prospect of marriage. Furthermore, the offers of ‘introductions’ – being put in contact with someone from the community who also happens to be single – also begin.

Admittedly, my only references to introductions are the experiences of others but I understand they can be notorious in lacking any filter. Rather than focusing on actual commonality between two people, the basis for the introduction can simply be that the other person is also single and “looking”. To an outsider to the culture, it can come across as contrived and unnatural. On the other hand, limiting any stipulations can allow two people to become acquainted without a ‘tick box’ approach being employed beforehand.

In going on introductions, there’s also a sense of reassurance on the basis of meeting someone from your community with whom you share a mutual acquaintance. But whoever has put you in contact with your date doesn’t necessarily really know the person you’re meeting. After all, I wouldn’t set up a female friend or relative on a date with a family friend’s cousin’s friend’s neighbour’s brother, just on the basis of them being from my community (I realise not all introductions are this tenuous). So why should this be any different? Perhaps the fact that it’s a well-practiced feature of the culture has led to it being overlooked.

If you consider introductions in a western context, the principles are similar to being set up on a date or meeting someone through online dating. Although with introductions, there is often the hope that one of these will lead to eventual marriage. Yet regardless of cultural background, is this much different for anyone that is seriously looking for a relationship; particularly as they enter a stage in their life where marriage is something they desire? Probably not.

Where the difference lies is this optimism is compounded by pressure, indirectly or otherwise, from parents and the wider community. And for many, including some of my own friends, it can result in a burgeoning sense of obligation to get married but for the wrong reasons.

The extent to which such obligation can often be culturally inherent makes it difficult to refrain from succumbing to. Therefore many feel compelled to force a situation that doesn’t work or they convince themselves that an empty relationship could be ‘the one’ – all rather than causing any derailment from the pursuit of marriage.

In an attempt to get closer to the goal of marriage, many will also compromise their expectations in what they’re seeking in a potential partner. Sometimes this can merely be a case of moving the goalposts from what was once sought and deemed important but in other instances, it can crudely be a lowering of standards. Again, this isn’t different to individuals from other cultures. However, it’s generally driven by a perspective that is born of social conditioning on attitudes towards marriage. In both cases, it’s not fair on those that feel it’s the only way but it sadly still occurs.

Aside from the historical and largely patriarchal reasons for its importance, the measure of success attached to marriage (and the sometimes perceived failure of being unmarried) arguably lies in the significance of a traditional family structure within Asian culture. Even so, not achieving this shouldn’t be deemed to equal failure. I know unmarried Asians for whom being academically, professionally and personally accomplished isn’t enough. Instead, not being married can inexplicably evoke unwarranted pity, concern and condescension, even from some of their married peers who stupidly and arrogantly consider themselves superior due to their marital status. Angry Brown Girl (@AngryBrownGirl), a blogger of East Indian descent, has written of her frustrations as an unmarried female in her thirties. Despite her own accomplishments and contentment with her life, not being married has nonetheless at times made her feel incomplete. But from her blog posts, there’s clearly a line drawn between wanting to be married and rightly resisting any pressure to compromise what she wants in a partner and a relationship.

A yearning for marriage and companionship isn’t exclusive to Asian culture. People, regardless of their background, will try to meet someone who shares their values, interests and consciously or otherwise, their culture. In principle, this isn’t any different when considered in an Asian context. However, in practice, it’s the pressure to get married that differentiates the approach.

I’ve seen Asian friends feel compelled (albeit not forced) to at least appear to be seeking marriage by half-heartedly and indifferently going on numerous introductions. Similarly, for others, their longing for marriage may be ingrained in them rather than being what they genuinely want. After all, marriage arguably isn’t for everyone and doesn’t have an expiry date by which it needs to be activated either. Conversely, there are some who truly yearn for the traditional, cultural standard of marriage and firmly grasp it with both hands once it’s within reach. And there isn’t anything wrong with that either. It’s what they want; not something they feel obliged to desire. I recently read a personal yet amusing take on wanting the traditional notion of marriage from Pia Khan, a blogger of Pakistani descent. Her frustrations in finding ‘Prince Charming’ lie less with any cultural standards or expectations and more with his inability to present himself to her.

The Asian approach to marriage may seem contrived and not always organic to someone who isn’t familiar with or is unable to empathise with the culture. Indeed, some Asians will admit to that sometimes being the case. Yet the underlying objective of seeking companionship within a relationship, while maintaining tradition, isn’t any different to western ideals. Instead, it’s the cultural perspective, and the consequent pressure, that distinguishes the Asian experience and has kept marriage as central to the culture and the mindset of the diaspora.

Does religion have any relevance in modern society?

In an increasingly secular society, religion has lost much of the relevance it once held. Throughout much of Europe, religion and the state were once on par with each other. Rightly or wrongly, society would look towards the Church for guidance on matters of morality and governments too would look to the Church for direction and endorsement of government policy. In Islamic states and Muslim majority countries, this has been more enduring. Nonetheless, the role of religion in modern society has receded. Yet has this been to an extent that it no longer holds any relevance?

The 2011 census showed 14.1 million people in England and Wales identified themselves as having no religion. That’s around a quarter of the population. Of those that responded as following an “other religion”, the highest ranked ‘religion’ was Jedi Knight which came higher than more established religions such as Rastafarianism, Jainism and Scientology. If the census data is anything to go by, religion isn’t playing a role in as many people’s lives as it once did.

Religious celebrations have transcended religion and entered wider culture in the regions where they are most prominent. Christmas isn’t exclusively celebrated by Christians and more people exchange gifts than those who are aware of or celebrate its religious significance. Likewise, in India, Diwali isn’t celebrated merely by Hindus, Sikhs and Jains and the festivities are enjoyed by most of the population. In both instances, this isn’t a bad thing and shows how inclusive modern society has become. Although it also indicates the rise of secularism and illustrates how religion has become secondary to wider culture.

Religion has long been used as a social grouping to the benefit or disadvantage of states, individuals and religions themselves. But with social identifiers such as race, class and economic status that are typically more pertinent to people’s everyday lives, religion has become secondary in this context. Furthermore, religion has often been slow to move with the times and find contemporary relevance, instead attempting to apply teachings and beliefs in a context that isn’t applicable to modern society.

The Church’s recent frosty discourse over women bishops and gay marriage illustrates just this. That isn’t to belittle or reject their beliefs and principles over either. But there’s a distinct inability for the dialogue around both to consider that the teachings of the Church would have been authored at a time when it would not have been faced with either issue. Similarly, the patriarchy and misogyny that is present in many long established religions (largely by virtue of the time in which they were founded) hasn’t been fully rejected to suggest their views are befitting of modern society.

Where religion shows it is unable or unwilling to apply its teachings in a modern day context, it merely alienates non-believers and worshippers alike and this is largely the reason why it lacks the relevance it once held. However, despite fewer people aligning themselves to a religion, the ability of religion to shape the thoughts and actions of those who follow it remains strong. Particularly amongst those of a generation where religion played a greater role in shaping society and permeating culture, religion has the power to dictate to the minds of many. Throughout history, this hasn’t always been used for good but most religions have used their ability to influence for many benevolent causes and moral guidance. If religions were able to further this, while applying their respective teachings and principles in a modern context, surely religion would experience a resurgence in its relevance and provide viable alternatives to the rise of secularism.

It’s important to remember that religion is separate from faith. Religions are designed by man and how man interpreted his faith and how it should be practiced. Faith instead relates to belief, putting aside the constraints of religion. Religion therefore articulates, according to a respective religion’s architects, how one should live and apply their faith.

While faith is personal and somewhat intangible, religion can be (and throughout history has been) modified to what those with the power to do so decide. So why do religions so often struggle to adapt to become relevant in modern society when they aren’t as abstract as they’d like to suggest?

By their very nature, many religions are conservative. They propose things are done in the way they’ve always been done and often reject any questioning of that. And if they are willing to be subject to questioning, the responses can be – but not always – meaningless for anyone seeking legitimate answers. My experience as a child, and that of my peers from various religions, has largely been that questioning of religious practices was initially responded to with superficial answers. And upon further probing, they would often be frustratingly met with submission to the fact that there were no concrete answers to offer. In retrospect, when it comes to faith, that’s understandable. Although when it comes to religion, it’s something many have unwarrantedly come to expect.

There isn’t a total disconnect between religion and modern society. Even for many who consider themselves agnostic or disconnected with the religion they were brought up with, religion finds its relevance reasserted for rites of passage out of convention and tradition if nothing else. Therefore while it might be waning, religion hasn’t completely lost its relevance.

Despite fewer people aligning themselves with a religion, religion still offers an opportunity for organised worship and an articulation of faith that for many is invaluable. In every religion, there are morals and principles that can be applied to everyday life for the betterment of society and individuals. Religion isn’t always instep with modern society but it can serve a purpose in providing timeless moral guidance in a number of areas. The challenge facing religion is to modernise its approach and to pragmatically apply its teachings to contemporary living. Otherwise, secularism will further erode the relevance religion has in modern society and could consign it to a shadow of what it once was.

British born and bred, but not British

Being asked “where are you from?” is something most British born ethnic minorities have been asked at some point. It’s a common feature of small talk but there was a time that this could have equally been a loaded question (and a prelude to being subject to some casual or candid racism) as it could be out of genuine interest. But as race relations have improved, most would argue it’s now more likely to be the latter.

For many, the generic response to that question is a caveated reply of “I was born here” or “I’m British”, followed by “but my parents are from…”. There’s a sense of having to fully account for your identity in being British but also reflecting the culture of your heritage. It’s not a rejection of either culture but more an attempt to balance them, illustrating the difficulty sometimes presented in being born of a diaspora that isn’t the land of your birth.

Growing up, this was a common response from my peers and I as we struggled to articulate that in essence we were from more than one place. As an adult, I’m able to better articulate those sentiments but I have found myself sometimes calling upon variations of “I’m British but my parents are from...”. Nonetheless, I have found that stopping at “I’m British”, or even claiming my parents’ nationalities as my own, is something I’m more comfortable with unless I’m prompted for more information. That isn’t because I feel any less black, Caribbean or British. If anything it’s the opposite. I don’t feel I need to justify my identity because I am sufficiently assured of it, regardless of what my response is.

However, for some, their experiences are seemingly not the same. Being British born and bred is something they reject. The UK is the place they merely live rather than a source of their identity. Stating that they were born in the UK is done so reluctantly and the emphasis is hurriedly placed upon the place they truly identify with. But why would someone born in the UK reject being British and in some cases do so with perceptible disdain?

Not to evoke Norman Tebbit’s “cricket test” but support for a national team can sometimes be a gauge of how people identify themselves. During the London Olympics, there was an apparent and uncontrived patriotism for the British athletes. People associated with them and wanted them to do well. Like many born in the UK, but with different a cultural background, this was no different for me. Though in addition, I supported the athletes of Jamaica and Barbados as the nations of my parents and places I equally identify with.

Conversely, not all British born ethnic minorities shared my support for Team GB. I found it difficult to understand why some people, born, educated, living and working in the UK all their lives, would openly wish failure upon British athletes and want the games, as a representation of the UK, to fail. Of course, someone choosing to not support a national team may have no bearing on their patriotism whatsoever. Yet when that stance is tinged with contempt and extended to broader British society, it suggests something more telling.

For the generations of ethnic minority communities that experienced racism at its peak in the UK, an aversion towards some aspects of British society can be deep rooted. As I wrote in a previous post, the attitudes of said generation, while not endorsed, can therefore be understood. Though for younger generations, who admittedly are still faced with institutionalised racism, what’s their excuse?

Some ethnic minority communities in the UK have a degree of insularity. As a result, this creates a bubble around them, preventing any other cultural influences from permeating their lives. Language, attitudes, exposure to cultural media and other cultural manifestations, all provide tangible factors to reinforce the influence of their culture and in some cases rejecting that of British culture in doing so. This almost creates a cultural microcosm that exclusively represents the ideals of the diaspora.

For many, despite not being born there themselves, there’s an inherent connection with the land of their heritage. That bond can be strong enough that it supersedes the more tangible link with one’s place of birth. Although unlike how I feel the connection to my Caribbean heritage is balanced with British culture, for others that balance either isn’t desired or is rejected.

For others, there’s an external or internal pressure to reflect the culture of their family and wider community. Externally, an attempt to fully assimilate this may take priority over a desire to achieve a culturally balanced identity. Similarly, and particularly for those within the second generation of a diaspora, there can be an internal conflict in seeking to ensure their ‘original’ culture doesn’t become diluted by that of another. In the process, any sense of being British might be rejected as it’s perceived as a threat to avoiding just that.

An argument can be made that place of birth and residence is circumstantial and has no correlation with identity. And as experiences can shape identity, a sense of ‘Britishness’ isn’t guaranteed merely by virtue of living in the UK. However, that argument undermines the notion of national identity and there are certainly precedents to refute it.

In a diverse society such as the UK, there will be always be people who rightly or wrongly don’t feel any connection to the county of their birth. Yet in critiquing multiculturalism as a social experiment, it cannot guarantee the cohesiveness it promotes and aims to achieve.

The culture of someone’s ethnic background needn’t be and shouldn’t be secondary to that of British culture, nor should it be vice versa. It is possible for both to coexist but some clearly choose for that not to be the case.