From radio silence to solidarity: A shared call for racial justice

It was the morning of the tube strikes. In true rookie style, I found myself visiting the capital on a day when most Londoners, who had the choice, were staying firmly put. After multiple cancellations, and to some surprise, my friend had managed to book me a cab back from their place.

As I stepped outside to meet the driver, he greeted me with a broad smile and warm, open gestures. He was in good spirits and shared something I couldn't quite make out yet.

As I got closer, he started to explain to me how he grew up here on this very estate.

Now, a stark contrast: a new build awkwardly thrust into the landscape, like a spaceship crash-landed, a metal wound in the earth. It didn’t belong here. Yet the remnants of a community, visible to a perceptive eye, still stood – strong in presence, and rooted in history.

The drive started.

“Sister, I had a more expensive job,” he said. “But I took yours so I could come and see the place where I grew up.” Given the context of the day, I had no doubt. I thanked him.

He told me about growing up here – the high school we passed on the left, the neighbours you’d greet with a familiar nod, the everyday rhythm of everyday life as it once was.

Now, everything was different. The area had become a hotspot for redevelopment, prized for its location, a stone’s throw away from King's Cross and Central London.

They don’t like you here because of the colour of your skin. He pointed at his hand.

The conversation drifted naturally from gentrification to racism. He shared story after story:

A girl he knew from school, of Trini and Irish descent, mugged on the high street.

A group of young Somali boys questioned by police after a game of football.

A Jamaican man eating alone, attacked without provocation.

Himself, held at knifepoint one day after his son was born, whilst charging his car.

From personal threats to police profiling, intercommunal harassment – the patterns were constant.

“I was born here. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Hackney or Camden – they still see you as not belonging because of your skin.”

What I heard in the car that morning echoed something bigger we are still failing to confront.

Over a year on from the far-right racist riots of July and August 2024, the state of race relations in Britain remains sobering, and sadly not surprising.

Racism, Islamophobia, and active hostility and xenophobia towards migrant communities and people seeking asylum have become dangerously normalised.

What has been more concerning is how this divisive, inflammatory rhetoric is no longer confined to the political fringes. It has been echoed and amplified by some politicians and media across the political spectrum. A research study found that 77% of people believe the media often makes the country feel more divided than it really is.

The conversation I had with the driver that morning was a reminder of how these issues play out in everyday life – in housing, policing, and in the quiet displacement of long-standing communities.

Oxfam’s mission is to tackle the root causes of poverty and inequality. At the heart of this is a truth, often ignored, that racism and economic inequality are deeply interlinked.

Concern and even anger around job security, housing, wages and crumbling public services are real. But it is too often misdirected, manipulated by those in places of power through scapegoating and misinformation.

As Dr Eseonu puts it: “The government cannot rely on assumptions that if it delivers on economic opportunities, it can stem the rise of the far right, nor can it ignore racism at play”.

Tackling racism must be at the heart of tackling inequality. That’s not just a matter of race, or class, but both. Age-old tactics of scapegoating continue to target Muslim, migrant and particularly Black and brown communities. The chilling question posed during the 2024 riots – "Are you white, are you English”– says everything.

Meanwhile, the rise of the far right across Europe is not just a national issue. It’s a global threat.

The systemic erosion of Black and brown lives across Europe and Central and East Africa, as well as West Asia and North Africa, is no longer something we can afford to be radio silent on.

From Sudan, the world’s gravest humanitarian crisis, to the Democratic Republic of Congo, where conflict and exploitation continue to devastate millions, we’re witnessing the global cost of silence, complicity, and selective outrage.

These crises aren’t distant. They’re interconnected. And if we continue to ignore this, our silence will cost millions of people their lives.

As we leave Black History Month under the theme ‘Standing Firm in Power and Pride’, we honour the strength, resilience, and unwavering commitment to justice and progress across the globe. In that spirit...

1. Our communities, our voice.

Let’s stop letting others dictate who our communities are – whether racialised, working-class, seeking asylum, or rebuilding after addiction. Our communities are not reducible to headlines or stereotypes. We carry layered histories, strength and purpose. Instead, let’s rebuild trust in one another and champion policies that ensure meaningful inclusion in decision-making. As Dr Dayo Eseonu discusses, tackling racial and class injustice must begin with representation that’s participatory, not performative. 

2. Step offline and into real conversation.

For many, recent events have been a wake-up call. But shock alone isn’t enough. We must show up in our communities, in peaceful demonstration and protest, and in solidarity.

Online activism has its place, but it is no substitute for connection and presence. And whilst it can amplify positive voices, social media has also been used to target, silence and erase, particularly Black women leaders.

The counter march against racism and fascism was a powerful reminder: protest is a deeply rooted British tradition. Use it. Exercise your right to speak out, respectfully and firmly.

3. Act in global solidarity.

Red lines have been crossed on multiple fronts. And yet, still too many remain silent about the root causes of global injustice – racism, colonialism, and economic violence – and the immense inequality and poverty that emerges from all three. This silence is not neutral. We must move from disconnection to collective action, from radio silence to global solidarity.

Staying resolute means listening, remembering, and showing up again and again. Let this Black History Month be a continuation, not the conclusion, of that commitment.