The Burden on Brown: mental health during the anti-racism movement
Unfortunately, systemic prejudice exists in almost all facets of society, creating division, discord and disadvantages to specific demographics. Prejudices, such as that concerning race and ethnicity, have leaked into the academic industry. Dr. John Fernandes talks about his experiences with racial discrimination in academia, the physical, emotional and psychological burden these have caused him, and how ‘challenging the system’ is the way to change the culture in academia, and to combat these prejudices. Read more here.
“Systemic issues with race have leaked into the academic world, where less than 1% of professors in the UK are black. ”
The global movement towards equality and diversity reached a new intensity after the murder of George Floyd at the end of May 2020. Not only this, but people who had never engaged in anti-racist activity began to participate. Whilst the murder of George Floyd took place in the USA, citizens in the UK were, and are, becoming more aware of the systemic issues and the oppression of black and brown people that existed in the UK. It is not entirely clear why people worldwide were suddenly enlightened to these issues, but it’s highly likely that lockdown due to the COVID-19 pandemic saw people using social media in ways they hadn’t before; being forced to engage in equality issues. Indeed, the issues of systemic racism have always been present; a quick Google search will show you the deaths of Christopher Alder, Mark Duggan, Joy Gardener, Stephen Lawrence and staggering facts such as black people being nine times more likely to undergo random ‘stop and search’ exercises in the UK (despite making up only a fraction of the population). Systemic issues with race have leaked into the academic world, where less than 1% of professors in the UK are black.
Away from the systemic issues, racism affects black and brown folk on an individual level. In regard to my personal experience of these issues, I was aware that I was ‘different’ (a.k.a. my skin is brown) from a very young age, probably around 5 or 6. I grew up in London, which is very multicultural, and never felt different around friends. However, I played golf, where participation is dominated by white middle-class males, and I was certainly treated differently to my peers. I always remember my dad having conversations with me from a young age; you can’t afford to act this way at the golf course or in school, you’ll have to work harder than your white peers, you won’t be afforded the same opportunities as your white peers. Now, at the age of 28, I’ve constantly been exposed to racism and discrimination, and certainly micro-aggressions on a near daily basis. So, I’ve spent my adult life heavily involved in anti-racism duties and trying to improve equality and diversity. It’s fair to say that I was, and I am, well equipped in dealing with these issues. But herein lies one of the issues. Why should I have to be equipped to deal with, and battle against, discrimination simply due to the colour of my skin?
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“I’ve lost count the amount of times people have had to, and tried to, justify racism to me.”
During my seven years in academia, I have rarely been asked about my experiences of racism, or how white people working in academia can engage in anti-racist activity. However, the murder of George Floyd saw a sharp increase in the number of colleagues, both internal and external to my institution asking me questions about racism and discrimination. The fact that more academics were opening their eyes to racism and discrimination was really positive. However, from my own perspective it raised several issues (note the issues below aren’t all specific to academia, but the white patriarchal nature of academia provides a breeding ground for these);
Academia is predominantly white and talking about racism (or any issue of inequality for that matter) isn’t commonplace. To talk about racism means discussing issues with the system; you have to identify that the organisation/institution/system is racist or, at the very least, upholds racism (I mean, these might be the same thing...). Needless to say, this never goes down well. It also means that when speaking about racism, I could never freely do so. Even now, I have to censor myself.
These conversations around racism inevitably meant that I had to disclose examples of racism after years of letting them slide. Ideally, I wouldn’t do this, but those asking, fortunately, had never experienced it. On most occasions though it’s because someone doesn’t trust what I’m saying; “have you experienced racism?” (If you ask this to any black or brown person this the answer is yes, so stop asking), “yes, nearly daily”, “I can’t believe it. What happened?”. The person asking doesn’t want examples to help their understanding but wants them as evidence. It’s not enough to say I’ve experienced racism, but I now have to relive the racial trauma that I’ve been subjected to. Now I’ve spoken about my experiences of racism extensively, and will continue to do so, in the hope that it will induce some change. In fact, the shock that people go through when they hear about racism might be enough for someone to change their behaviours. But I’d rather I didn’t have to talk about it, I do not want to relive the trauma.
Black and brown people are not one homogenous group. We are all very different, and each act of racism we have experienced is unique. The fact that people group all black and brown folk together (usually being called people of colour or black and minority ethnic) is, in my opinion, racist in itself. Two people, one British Indian and one British Caribbean have two vastly different cultures and experiences. Ones which cannot be grouped together. Asking me to speak on issues that affect British Nigerians, for example, fails to acknowledge this (that’s not to say some of our experiences might be shared).
Not everyone is anti-racist, in fact some people are racist (this isn’t a controversial point, if there were no racist people, we wouldn’t have racism. And I think we can all agree that racism exists). I’ve lost count the amount of times people have had to, and tried to, justify racism to me. I’m not speaking about the classic “I’m not racist but…”. I’m talking about proper mental gymnastics. I remember a colleague trying to explain why I had been followed in a supermarket “maybe it’s because you were wearing jeans and trainers”. Nope, I was wearing chinos, a shirt and boat shoes (I had been marking and assessing students all day). “maybe it because you look young”. I’m a 28-year-old man with a beard. I could go on, but you get the point. That’s a relatively trivial example, but I’ve had to explain to peers why the term ‘coloured’ is offensive, or why white people shouldn’t use the ‘N word’. Academics, though most of them are smart, can still be racist. Like Dr Peter Olusoga says, “there is enough real racism going on, we don’t need to make up more of it”.
I’ve been asked to do numerous talks/lectures etc on racism in academia and sport in 2020. This is undoubtedly a positive move, the fact that people want to understand racism and dismantle their own prejudices is great. I’m happy to do these, and will continue to so, in the hope that positive change comes about. Whether that be people removing their racist behaviour or someone feeling support that I’m speaking out. Notwithstanding the issues above, not once have I received or been offered remuneration. Not even a coffee. The juxtaposition between asking me, an ethnic minority, to speak about inequality whilst simultaneously asking me to also work for free is alarming.
“I got to the point where I couldn’t sleep, even with sleeping tablets, and I felt sick in work. After a morning of feeling horrendous, I managed to finish an online lecture and then self-certified from work for a week. A few days later a GP signed me off for the rest of 2020. As I’m writing this, I’m almost three weeks into being signed off work. ”
Dealing with racism is hard. Full stop.
If you put someone into a system which constantly treats them unfairly (in this case because of the colour of their skin, but also counts for gender, sexual orientation etc) it is not surprising that they develop mental health issues. I can’t remember when I first started having mental health issues, but my mental health has definitely been worse this year, and not just because of COVID-19. I didn’t experience any more racism than I normally do, maybe even a bit less because I’ve been in doors most of the year. However, the amount of time I’ve spent explaining and educating people on racism has increased 10-fold.
Speaking about racism in sport and academia this year took me far out my comfort zone and brought me to a new level of vulnerability that I had not been accustomed to. This stemmed not from being unconfident in what I was saying, but about being worried of the consequences of what I was saying. Like I said, when you speak about racism in sport and academia, you have to talk about the system and organisation, more so, you talk about and highlight the weaknesses’, inadequacies and deleterious components of the system. This is anxiety inducing. To challenge the system is to challenge the culture, a culture that has greatly benefited a certain group of people. So, in delivering these talks, you never truly know if you’ve ruffled feathers. After voicing my experience of racism publicly, I’d spend the next few hours or days worried that I was going to get in trouble or get ‘called out’. I’d frequently be sat on Twitter and emails refreshing the page wondering when this was going to happen. It’s never happened, but the fear is still there. Normally, when I’m subjected to racism I speak to my partner, vent on my various WhatsApp groups to my friends and family, maybe send a tweet and then get on with things like nothing ever happened. I rarely go back and relive the trauma (who would?). This year has been different; I’ve had to dig up events that I’d tried to supress for years. I had to relive the trauma with each conversation. This is a frequent issue for me, other academics, and people of colour in general; we have to relive trauma, make ourselves vulnerable so that progress can be made. This is made even worse because whilst I’m putting myself in this vulnerable position the person asking me the questions or reading the article does not meet me on the same level. The power imbalance is still there. This whole scenario is incredibly fatiguing, mentally and physically.
People of colour have to work harder to get to the same position as their white counterparts (a quick Google search will show you this, if you don’t believe me). I made a promise to myself once my PhD was completed that I wouldn’t work late into the night unless I really had to. Not because I wasn’t career driven, but because I need to regulate my mental health and working late never helps. I think I managed this fairly well up until this year. I’m pretty certain that I just subconsciously worked much more this year without even realising. But looking back there were nights where I was up till 2/3am working. Again COVID-19 didn’t help this, but neither did the mental burden of racism and, knowing you’ve got to work harder than others. As one of the few black and brown people within Higher Education within my institution, I’ve felt like I had to make change, had to speak out, had to set up initiatives to improve equality and diversity in academia. I felt like I had a responsibility to do this. But this doesn’t come with an extra time allocation, when the work is external to my institution. As a consequence, I’ve had to work harder and longer than at any point before, which has meant working late into the night, or early hours of the morning. The plus side is that I’ve probably progressed the most, career wise than ever, but my mental health has downturned. This culminated in my burning out. There were numerous other factors which caused this to happen, but the mental burden of racism in 2020 was certainly a contributing factor.
I got to the point where I couldn’t sleep, even with sleeping tablets, and I felt sick in work. After a morning of feeling horrendous, I managed to finish an online lecture and then self-certified from work for a week. A few days later a GP signed me off for the rest of 2020. As I’m writing this, I’m almost three weeks into being signed off work.
I suppose the uniqueness of this situation is that there isn’t really much I can do about racism beyond what I’m doing. I didn’t initially think this, I thought I could do more, which ultimately contributed in my burnout. The reality is, it is not on me to dismantle racism in academia. There are things which I can do to help individuals but beyond that people in power have to make a choice. In fact, society has to make a choice. Academia exists within society, and societal racism is just echoed in academia. Remove racism in society and it’ll disappear from academia. In an odd way, knowing that I can’t have much of an effect on society, but I’ve made strides to effect those around makes me feel less anxious and stressed. There is a sense of relief in knowing that I’ve done all I can; I don’t need to keep working. I recently read a chapter by Matt Haig in Notes on Nervous Planet where he writes about how the goalposts always change and that we keep looking to the next thing for happiness. To some extent, me working tirelessly so that I could achieve the next ‘thing’ was me looking to something else to achieve satisfaction. Also, me working tirelessly to dismantle something that isn’t under my control is an impossible goal. The reality is that I could just be happy now. I could just be happy with all I’ve done and achieved. I spent a bit of time fixing up my CV for the sole purpose of being able to reflect on how far I’ve come and everything I’ve done. Looking back now, I’ve achieved a lot, especially in spite of all the discrimination I’ve been exposed to. I guess it’s not until you take a step back and look at the picture as whole that you realise this. You get this from looking back at your achievements, not looking forward at what you have yet done. The simple power of reflection.
In regard to the effects of racism on my mental health, I’ve done several things. After signing off from work, I just slept. I mean in the four days after I was signed off of work, I slept an average of 12 hours. I wish this information was sexier, but I needed an emotional reset. I needed a period where I didn’t have to deal with anything. I needed to regulate my mood, and this was one way of doing it. Plus, I had endured three weeks of terrible insomnia. After this I began walking and trying to get outside as much as I could (within the confines of the pandemic restrictions). There is something about nature and walking that makes me feel better. I have also found yoga and meditation. I start each day with 10 to 30 minutes of yoga (thanks to Sarah Beth on YouTube!) which really helps to set my focus for the day. There is something mentally beneficial about being able to focus on your breathing whilst getting your body to relax on command (doing a shavasana). In the evening, I meditate, and sometimes engage in a sleep hypnosis , before I go bed. Anyone who has had anxiety or stress knows that their mind can be filled with thoughts, like an internet browser with 100 tabs open. For some reason this always seems to be amplified at night. The act of meditation has really helped me to clear my mind and stay in the present. Aside from that, I’ve booked in for counselling, I’ve had it before and found it incredibly helpful. But this time my issues are different, so I’m going in again. It took me a while to actually book in because I didn’t really want to acknowledge that I couldn’t deal with my own issues. But rather than hamstring myself, I decided that getting help was a huge step in me dealing with these issues.
I’m not really sure what the conclusion from this all is. I guess in many ways the issues are still on going. The main point is that I’ve found comfort in what I’m doing. I know I’ve helped people and I know that I’ve made changes, the rest is up to society. Asides from that, I’ve found new coping mechanisms to help me deal with stress and anxiety. I’m feeling much more equipped and looking forward to what the New Year holds.
written by: Dr. John Fernandes
twitter: @DrJFTFernandes
edited by: Dr. Robert Seaborne
