It has been a while since my last blog, but silence should never be mistaken for indifference. There have been many things weighing heavily on my mind, not least the genocide and murder being perpetrated against Palestinians, enabled and defended by the United States and Israel under the familiar language of security, democracy and world peace. Yet beneath that language sits something far more brutal. For the United States, it is about power, resources, influence and money. For Israel, it is about land, expansion and the removal of people whose lives it appears not to value.
But while these global injustices trouble me deeply, there is something much closer to home that is affecting me in a more immediate and personal way, the growing infection of Reform politics across the United Kingdom.
I have watched with dismay as many of our leaders, political, religious and commercial, have either ignored or enabled the slow, poisonous creep of racism into everyday public life. I have watched as the contribution, richness and value of people of colour have been dismissed, distorted or treated as a problem to be managed rather than a strength to be recognised.
What is particularly disturbing is how familiar the arguments have become. They are repeated on phone ins, in workplaces, in newspapers, on social media and increasingly in mainstream politics. They are presented as reasonable concerns, but beneath the surface they are often rooted in fear, prejudice and historical ignorance.
Some of the arguments commonly made are worth examining.
1. People of colour do not integrate into British communities
This is an interesting accusation, particularly when we consider Britain’s own history.
For around 200 years, the British occupied India. They did not become Indian. They did not abandon their clothes, their food, their language, their customs or their sense of superiority. Some may have learned local languages, but often this was not done out of respect or integration, it was done to administer, control and govern. Among themselves, they continued to speak English. They created clubs, institutions and spaces designed to keep themselves separate from the people whose land they occupied.
So when people today talk about integration, we must ask what they really mean. Do they mean participation, contribution and mutual respect, or do they mean disappearance? Do they want people of colour to be part of British society, or do they want us to erase ourselves in order to be tolerated?
Because people of colour have integrated. We have built lives here. We have worked in hospitals, schools, factories, care homes, public transport, universities, shops, businesses and public services. We have raised families, paid taxes, served communities and helped shape modern Britain. But integration cannot mean that we must abandon our histories, languages, faiths, food, names, clothing or identities to make others feel comfortable.
A society that demands erasure is not asking for integration. It is asking for submission.
2. Most immigrants of colour arriving on British shores commit crimes
I recently heard a caller on LBC claim that 95 percent of immigrants of colour commit crimes. They stated this as fact. When challenged about where this figure had come from, they said it was based on published evidence and that they had read it on the internet.
This is the danger we now face. A lie, once repeated often enough, begins to sound like truth to those who are already willing to believe it.
The idea that criminality is somehow linked to skin colour or ethnicity is not only offensive, it is intellectually and scientifically bankrupt. Human beings are overwhelmingly genetically similar. The differences between populations are small, and those differences do not determine morality, decency, honesty or criminality.
My skin is darker not because I am more likely to commit crime, but because my ancestors lived in environments where darker skin offered protection from ultraviolet radiation. It is biology, adaptation and history. It is not a moral failing. It is not a threat. It is not evidence of criminal intent.
Crime is shaped by many factors, poverty, exclusion, trauma, opportunity, policing, education, housing, inequality and social conditions. To reduce it to race is not analysis. It is racism dressed up as concern.
3. People of colour do not share British values
This argument also deserves scrutiny, because the phrase “British values” is often used as though its meaning is obvious and uncontested.
We are often taught a version of British history in which Britain is presented as a liberator, educator and civilising force. We are told stories of progress, fairness, democracy and law. But that version of history often leaves out the violence of empire, the theft of land and resources, the enslavement of African people, the exploitation of colonised nations and the dehumanisation of those Britain considered inferior.
So when someone says people of colour do not share British values, I want to ask, which values? The values of fairness, compassion, justice, equality and dignity? Because many of us hold those values deeply. Or the values of empire, extraction, racial hierarchy and domination? Because those are values I reject entirely.
My skin is not a rejection of Britain. My presence is not an insult to Britain. My heritage is not a threat to Britain. The fact that I know a fuller version of British history does not make me less British, less loyal or less deserving of respect. It simply means I refuse to accept a comforting myth when the truth is more complex.
The problem is not that people of colour do not understand Britain. Sometimes the problem is that we understand Britain all too well.
The rise of Reform
This is why the growing popularity of Reform concerns me so deeply. Its politics is rooted in division. It takes fear, frustration and economic insecurity and points people towards a familiar scapegoat, migrants, Muslims, Black people, Brown people, refugees, people who look or sound different.
Rather than addressing the real causes of hardship, such as underfunded public services, insecure work, poor housing, inequality and political failure, Reform offers blame. It tells people that their lives are harder because of people like me. It turns neighbour against neighbour, colleague against colleague and community against community.
I had hoped more people would see through this. I had hoped people would recognise that the politics of resentment never lifts anyone up. It only drags society further down. But sadly, that is not what I am seeing.
I am seeing people accept language that once would have been considered extreme. I am seeing racism repackaged as patriotism. I am seeing cruelty described as common sense. I am seeing politicians and commentators speak about vulnerable people as though they are a disease, a burden or an invasion.
This rhetoric is not harmless. Words create permission. When political leaders dehumanise people, others hear that as permission to treat them accordingly.
The same concern applies to figures such as Suella Braverman, who has argued against equality, diversity and inclusion initiatives by claiming they create division, waste public money and produce unfair outcomes. To me, this sounds deeply cynical. Equality work is not what divides society. Racism divides society. Exclusion divides society. Denial divides society. Pretending that discrimination no longer exists does not make it disappear.
In my view, Braverman represents a particularly troubling form of politics, one that benefits from the struggles of those who came before her while attacking the very mechanisms designed to protect others from discrimination. It feels self serving, performative and deeply harmful.
What this means for Wales and for Britain
For me, the division and blame culture Reform is spreading is not abstract. It is personal. I see it in society. I see it in workplaces. I see it in casual conversations. I see it in the way people become more confident saying things they once might have hidden.
In Wales, we have had an Anti Racist Wales policy. It may not be as effective as it needs to be, and there is still much work to do, but it at least represented a commitment to addressing racial inequality. It acknowledged that racism exists and that institutions have a responsibility to challenge it.
After voting on Thursday, I had a sleepless night because the polls suggested that Reform could become a major political force in Wales. I found myself wondering what that would mean for me, for my family, for my community and for my workplace. Would people become more emboldened? Would racism become more acceptable? Would policies designed to protect minority communities be dismantled? Would the country I call home become more hostile to people who look like me?
Watching Reform gain a foothold in Wales, Scotland and England is deeply concerning. It says something about the direction of travel in this country. And that direction will not only harm people of colour. It will harm everyone.
A society built on suspicion cannot flourish. A country that encourages people to hate their neighbours cannot heal. A politics that survives by creating enemies will eventually consume the very people it claims to protect.
The question we must ask ourselves is simple. What kind of country do we want to become?
Do we want a Britain that tells the truth about its past and builds a fairer future? Or do we want a Britain that hides behind nostalgia, fear and denial?
Do we want communities where difference is respected and valued? Or do we want communities where people are forced to prove, again and again, that they belong?
Do we want leaders who bring people together to solve real problems? Or do we want leaders who point at the vulnerable and tell us they are the reason everything is broken?
For me, the answer is clear. I want a country honest enough to confront its history, brave enough to challenge racism and compassionate enough to value every human being. I want a country where my family can live without fear, where my colleagues of colour do not have to shrink themselves, where children are not taught that their skin makes them suspect, and where belonging is not conditional on silence.
This is why I cannot stay quiet.
Because racism does not arrive all at once. It creeps. It whispers. It normalises itself. It finds respectable language, political platforms and willing audiences. And by the time people finally admit what it is, too much damage has already been done.
So we must name it now. We must challenge it now. We must refuse to let fear become policy, refuse to let prejudice become patriotism and refuse to let division define the future of this country.
Britain can be better than this. Wales can be better than this. But only if enough of us are willing to say, clearly and without apology, that we will not build our future on the dehumanisation of others.