South Asian heritage isn’t solely about food and cultural identity – it’s deeply linked to anti-racism too

Though there is much to enjoy in our music, art and architecture, we have and should continue to tap more deeply into our roots of solidarity and mutual care

South Asian Heritage Month UK, with online events and exhibitions, words and images, recently came to an end. The aim was to transform how people connected with South Asian culture and identity through celebrating arts, culture and heritage, commemorating history and anniversaries, and ultimately through education. Like many others, I appreciate the time and effort which organisers and performers have put into this. Yet I found it difficult to engage.

There is much to enjoy in Asian food and music, art and architecture, the achievements of pro-independence campaigners, poetry and philosophy. However, I was disappointed that anti-racist struggle and solidarity – which, to me, are central to our heritage – seemed to fade into the background.

This is all the more surprising because some of those who spoke, sang, drew or danced have been part of this movement and continue to strive for change. Perhaps mainstream society tends to find it easier to celebrate difference if it adds colour and variety and sidesteps institutional injustice. And it may be tempting for us, too, not to dwell on what is painful or may lead to conflict with those who are powerful.

However, amid state neglect – including numerous preventable coronavirus deaths in our communities and more to come – and worsening repression, we cannot afford to play down this part of our heritage. In fact, it may be among the most valuable things we can offer to our neighbours of all ethnicities and cultures.

It is time to put the leftover vadais in the fridge, switch off the stereo and remind ourselves of disturbing, yet inspiring, aspects of our history, while also celebrating youth involvement in new campaigns for justice.

Earlier generations who arrived in the UK found themselves at the heart of an empire which treated Asia, Africa and Latin America as sources of raw materials and cheap labour, places to be wrung dry and “civilised”. Asians were generally spared the horrors of slavery but indentured labour and treatment of “natives” back home were brutal enough. Those who came here might be treated as one rung lower than even working-class white people or, if they were better off, patronised. But some resisted, organising among themselves and also joining in wider struggles for women’s and workers’ rights.

I arrived in 1964 from Sri Lanka (then known as Ceylon) with my family, as a very small child. I was far too young to understand discrimination or the blatant racism through which a Tory candidate won the constituency of Smethwick in a general election. The next year, in a striking act of solidarity, African-American activist Malcolm X joined the Indian Workers’ Association general secretary in a tour of the area, boosting the anti-racist cause.

But I soon discovered the hostility and contempt with which people like me were surrounded, though my parents protected me from the worst and I met many committed anti-racists from different ethnic backgrounds. The racist politician Enoch Powell, who made an infamous speech about the rivers of blood which would result if families like mine settled here, gained huge publicity. Some South Asians stayed silent but others organised, joining forces with others seeking a more just and welcoming Britain.

As a teenager in east London, I found out more about the racism rife among the police. Often, African-Caribbean youths were harassed for being on the street while murderous racists were ignored – if Asians tried to defend themselves, officers would swoop down to arrest them too. I learned of the value of unity from relatives and older friends in movements such as the British Black Panthers. When the Bradford 12, Asian men, were put on trial for self-defence, I travelled up and down the motorway with a coachload of others until their acquittal.

It was on one of these journeys that I first knowingly met other LGBT+ people of colour. A few years later, I was working for the Black Lesbian and Gay Centre. Like many community organisations, it ran out of money. Divisions were also deepening based on culture and faith. It is wonderful that, nowadays, UK Black Pride, a joyful annual celebration, also embodies a dream of a better world.

A few British Asians today have made it to the heights of the establishment. Yet mass deaths from Covid-19 have made it clear that those in charge care little for the lives of ordinary people who are minority ethnic, low-income and/or disabled. Our leaders then have the gall to heap blame on us – and if Brexit causes chaos, we may face further scapegoating. An increasingly hostile environment will be made worse by the Immigration Bill underway.

More positively, a new generation of South Asians are involved in various campaigns for justice. Consistently opposing oppression based on ethnicity, religion, caste, gender and other factors, in the UK and everywhere, is important in countering racism effectively. If we can tap more deeply into our heritage of struggle, solidarity and mutual care, this could be a rich source of nourishment in meeting the challenges ahead.