I always feel like I’m constantly crying because I’m constantly disappointed by life.
My girlfriend doesn’t do her share of the housework, so I cry as I obsessively glare at the dirty dishes piling up.
My mother proves once again that she cannot be the mother I deserve, so I cry.
I wake up to a new day and before I’ve even opened my eyes properly I have a seizure, so I cry.
I think about the possibility of returning to work but the thought of doing so fills me with immense fear. So I cry.
When I do work up the courage to apply for jobs, I hit a wall when it comes to the reference requests because my previous employer always find a way to refuse doing it even though they signed an non-disclosure agreement (NDA) promising to give me a reference for any future employment. So when they don’t I cry.
I’ve kept my end of the agreement for almost a year now. Even though I was forced to sign this document when I was mentally unstable. One of the terms of the agreement was to also keep quiet about the name of that Employer, but seeing as they’re breaking the rules there’s no reason for me to keep on playing. Especially when they are so intent on not only ruining my past career, but any future job prospects.
The employer was Finchley Catholic High School. And they fired me because I am Black and disabled.
When I called my mum weeks ago to tell her what Finchley were doing, she advised me to send an email to the new Head Teacher pleading for her to reconsider. When I asked my mum why I should have to grovel to these people, her response was:
That’s what Black people have to do in this country.
I hated the idea but I did it anyway. The Head Teacher ignored me. So when I got an email from the employment agency I was trying to register with to say that they had to reject my application, because Finchley were refusing to give me a reference and thus confirm that there were no Child Protection issues while I was an employee at the school, I decided to fight. I emailed the Head Teacher again, pointing out that she was breaking the terms of the NDA and I would be forced to take legal action against the school.
She emailed me back within a day to say that she had provided the reference to the agency.
My previous email may have helped my case because clearly this new Head Teacher, who wasn’t working at the school while I was there, had inherited the prejudice from her predecessor who had tortured me. This was clear from the way she spoke to me on the phone when I courageously called to speak to her personally. She spoke to me like I was a piece of dirt. Therefore a polite, grovelling email contradicts the Black, aggressive troublemaker she’s evidently heard about. Perhaps she saw my final email as a “last resort” and out of character if she compared me to the same person who had emailed so politely prior. But, as Black people in Britain it is not our legacy to plead with white people to get what we are entitled to. We are human beings and citizens.
But, as Black people in Britain it is not our legacy to plead with white people to get what we are entitled to. We are human beings and citizens.
So now, instead of crying I’m going to fight. I was forced to sign that NDA while I was mentally unstable, so I’m going to seek legal advice on my next steps. When I read it now in my right mind, I see it as worthless like the toilet paper I use to wipe my arse. It doesn’t protect me, it is just an oppressive weapon to shut me up.
My therapist also asked me why I expected them to be co-operative after what they did to me:
This is Finchley, why would you expect them to give you what you want?
As if that should excuse the continued torture.
Again, this isn’t about getting what I want. It’s about getting what I am entitled to as a fucking human being and a citizen of this country. It’s about being part of a new generation of Black British citizens fighting a long oppressive legacy of colonialism where white people think they can take from us and not have to pay reparations. It’s about fighting against structural racism.
After consciously making the decision to fight instead of cry, last night I dreamt about being in a school but for the first time in over a year, it wasn’t a nightmare and I didn’t wake up shouting and crying.
This time, I was in full control.