The activist and motivational speaker Imarn Ayton describes how the U.S. helped shape her identity and enflame her passion for justice and equality.
The moment Joe Biden’s inauguration speech made reference to addressing “the stain of systemic racism” in the US, I knew that America had truly made a progressive step forward. In the UK, however, Boris Johnson and his government continue to reject the notion, highlighting how the US and UK are poles apart when it comes to tackling racism.
Growing up in England in the 1990s, I was taught little about Black history at school, and when I was eventually taught about the transatlantic slave trade (mainly during Black History Month), it was presented through the prism of the atrocities being committed by the US. There was little emphasis on Britain’s colonial past, including the huge financial gains that were made from the transportation and trading of Black Africans.
In spite of that picture being painted of the US being the main bastion of racism, ironically a lot of my identity as a Black girl was influenced by America. As a 10-year-old living in London, I would binge-watch Black TV shows such as Sister, Sister (which is currently enjoying a resurgence on Netflix) and Kenan & Kel. Regrettably, Black shows and actors were few and far between in the UK, so I was heavily reliant on Black programs from the US. I was oblivious to the fact that these TV shows were one of the key building blocks that made up my sense of belonging, identity and self-esteem as a Black girl growing up in the UK.
Thanks to these influences during my childhood, I wanted nothing more than to become an actress and move to America. In fact, I was convinced I was going to marry a member of the US boyband B2K (Omarion or J-Boog—either one was fine) and live happily ever after in the land of the free and the home of the brave.
My dream of living in the US turned into a nightmare on the day I found out about Black people being lynched. In that moment I knew that a) Omarion was going to have to move to England to marry me, and b) America held dark and sinister levels of overt racism. Once my eyes were fully opened, my teenage love affair with America soon turned sour.
By the time I hit adulthood, I had become increasingly aware of racially motivated murders in both the UK and US. However, there are some moments, some murders, that haunt you, and the death of George Floyd was one such moment. It felt like the world had stopped spinning on its axis as a single message was directed at every Black person across the globe: “You are worthless and dispensable.” All of my illusions had been smashed to smithereens.
Still reeling from the murder of Floyd and in an attempt to shake off my somber mood, I decided to go out and pick up some toothpaste. While walking down the high street, the last thing I expected to encounter was a large group of people marching and passionately chanting, “Black lives matter!” As their voices grew louder, I felt like I had received a sign from the universe and, without a moment’s thought, I joined the protest. This was the day that my passion for equality and justice was ignited.
A day later, I made my way to a massive BLM protest being held in central London and stood on a high pillar to try to see where the protest speakers were. I felt a tap on my ankle and a woman handed me a large megaphone and then swiftly disappeared into the crowd. Instinctively I began to shout through it, “Black lives matter,” and the crowd roared “Black lives matter” straight back at me. As I stood there, surrounded by thousands of protestors and bellowing into the megaphone, I felt completely free to express my passion and pain.
I had no idea where my newfound journey would take me and, in each passing hour, things became more and more surreal. Within a few days I found myself slap bang in the middle of another BLM London protest, which led to my impassioned speech alongside movie star John Boyega in front of the Houses of Parliament. But by far the most surreal experience involved me organizing my first protest with approximately 20,000 people in attendance. On this day I found myself face to face with none other than pop icon Madonna. I spoke with her, made a speech for her at her request and danced and chanted with her and her family!
To witness people of all ages and races galvanized in support of Black equality and justice was by far the most inspiring aspect of my journey. However, during the London BLM protests in 2020, it became increasingly evident that the debate about the Black Lives Matter movement in the UK had become increasing complex and polarized. I decided to start the Black Reformist Movement (BRM) in July, as I felt that there was insufficient emphasis on institutionalized racism and its widespread impact on the Black community.
Through seminars, workshops, and networking events, BRM (a nonprofit organization) aims to build awareness of institutionalized racism and all other forms of it. Given that each distinct form of racism has a vastly different impact on the Black community, I feel that it is vital to clearly define racism, understand what it looks like, and how it manifests within society.
My view is that, in the UK, there is little understanding, or a clear consensus, of the different forms of racism, and if we continue to nitpick our way through the complexity of endemic racial disparities, we will become ever more distracted and polarized. Educating ourselves is the first port of call for long-lasting sustainable change.
As a British Black activist, I have been on an incredible journey and my formative years were definitely shaped by America. I hope to continue to be positively influenced and inspired by the progressive steps the US takes towards tackling institutionalized racism.
