Jayshree Viswanathan, Copywriter, FCB Inferno
I learned the value of a solid comeback at secondary school
Having a few choice retorts at my fingertips let the mean kids know that there was more to me than being a so-called boffin, the most devastating insult you could have been called back then. Their assumption was a simple one: I was good at school and therefore I must be boring and uncool. I will readily admit to the uncool bit even now, but having my personality erased cut deep. So using a carefully honed strategy of sarcasm and deadpan put-downs, I started sticking up for myself. After a point, my nemeses and I tired of the constant sparring and we settled into friendship of sorts, based on what I like to think was mutual understanding.
These days, I find myself wishing I could skewer racist assumptions in the same way. Instead I usually experience the following emotions: shock, doubt, fear and anger. And not necessarily in that order. Having being born and raised in London, and living/working/travelling alongside people from every imaginable background, it never fails to stop me in my tracks to be othered and be reminded that to some, I’m just another brown girl.
Racism may exist on a spectrum, but when it occurs, every single instance jars like the last. The older guy in a Kensington pub who felt like it was ok to exoticize my long plaited hair and then ask intrusive questions about where I was “really from”, and the professor who remarked with great enthusiasm that my English was “so good that I could work for the BBC” felt every bit as galling as the colleague who singled me out specifically to brag about their recent, very touristy trip to Mumbai. I count myself pretty lucky to have escaped before the inevitable reference to Slumdog Millionaire came up.
I’m grateful that we’re getting to a point where being able to challenge racism is not only possible, but welcomed. The more of us that speak out against it or share our experiences of it, the more visibility – and subsequently change – we can hope to create. But still, I continue to grapple with what a fitting response looks like. Should I be more angry? Less hurt? Or should I go into education mode, despite resenting the expectations upon me to do so? Part of my dilemma comes from the internalised pressure I feel to respond in the ‘right way’.
Where it’s made sense to, I’ve given the other person the benefit of the doubt and explained my point of view. In other cases, I’ve decided I don’t owe them an explanation at all. In the case of the older man in the pub, I surprised and delighted myself by walking away from him while he was mid-sentence – something I should really do more often. And more times than I care to admit, I’ve quietly fumed in silence, only to have my brain come up with a perfect take-down many days too late.
The inconvenient truth is this: for all my wordsmithing experience, there’s no perfect arrangement of words that will crack this brief the next time it circles back around. The only comeback that can be truly fitting, is the one that feels right in that moment. And that, I tell myself, should be good enough.
Thanks Jayshree for sharing your story.
And that’s it really as per last week. The next stage is that change we are going to do together.
I will be away until the end of August and will continue to share your stories during this time.
On another note, a few people reached out on what to do for our young people - our future creative talent especially since, yes, we cannot all go back into our office yet.
Here is an idea I hope will catch on over the coming months. While we are working from home, it is the perfect time for cross-cultural mentoring in local parks and free spaces.
In little bubbles.
All sorts of benefits both sides.
Let’s have a catch-up on it all when I get back.
Best wishes,
Sherry Collins
Jamaican Igbo Warrior Queen
