The Soil I Know Best

My grandparents came to this country in the late forties. The Windrush generation. My dad was birthed on British soil, shortly after. And I was born in the early nineties.

Third generation. Caribbean heritage.

Growing up back then, in this country, was a very different experience to how it is now. The times, as you can guess, were overtly racist. And when you are positioned in that environment, it becomes very difficult to understand where you have come from. When you have to face a future that you must build, a present that you must experience, and a past that you don’t quite understand — the directions and choices that one takes become blurred. In that low visibility of direction and guidance, my parents suffered too.

My mum was born on Jamaican soil before she migrated here. Our roots in Jamaica, back in the Caribbean, are from a place called Hanover. My mum’s roots were from Portland. My mum and my grandma’s family had some intertwining — they knew each other to a degree. So when they came over into this country, they had familiarity with each other.

I didn’t understand any of this until my late twenties. Because as you grow up as a young Black boy on British soil, you don’t really understand anything apart from what Britain has to teach its children.

And what Britain had to teach its children at that point was, effectively — you are not wanted.

There were many enemies. Many foes, many adversaries that I had to face. That many of us had to face. And we had no other option but to face it head on. I won’t delve too deeply here. But I’ll tread on those waters lightly.

The stark difference between then and now is the acceptance of diversity within this country. And it is that very diversity — even within this country’s own history — that has made it the powerful state it is.

Within that understanding, you have to give credit to people and their individual cultures.

For myself and people like myself, you will often hear the same quotes, the same statements, the same stigmatisms. And oftentimes, more often than not, those stigmatisms start to appear to be true. Despite us trying to shake off the tar that sticks to us.

So instead of talking about the negative — I want to talk about the positive.

The positiveness that my culture brought to this country is its creativity.

From my grandma’s generation. Sound systems, music. And those sound systems were divided into two subcategories. Two distinct styles. Two whole philosophies, if you look at it closely enough.

Lovers rock. And rude boy music.

We didn’t have instant messaging. We didn’t have Spotify or Shazam. Everything was brought back in physical media. The distance between the Caribbean and Britain made radio signals difficult to attain. So we developed sound systems. Huge subwoofers — I can’t quite imagine the decibels — and CDs and tapes.

Rude boy music was exactly that. How you hustle upon road. How some men might have to rob for their food. How people would violate, and how they would get dealt with. Spoken in Patois. They say broken English. But to us, it’s a whole other language in itself.

Lovers rock is a deep spiritual resonance with humanity. More often than not, between a man and a woman. The joys of what that relationship brings. The struggles of who hurt whom and who cheated on whom.

Two philosophies of life. Played through music, played through rhythm, played through bass. Every tone expressed. Every line quotable.

And we inspired the English.

Our cultural inclinations started to seep through their cultural inclinations. Over time they mixed and melded to create entirely new genres. Grime, for instance. Growing up and first discovering The Boy in da Corner by Dizzee Rascal. Listening to Skepta, Kano, D Double E — the ad-libs, the flow, the lyrics. Phenomenal times. Truly phenomenal, competitive times. Because to be the best MC, you had to be the best MC.

So it’s only right that I make my own sound. Use my own sound. And try to be the best in my genre.

As much as my life has given me difficulty — and I have found many difficulties, living as a Black boy on British soil, eventually becoming a Black man on British soil — I would still class myself as Black British.

I couldn’t class myself as Jamaican. I don’t know Jamaican soil. I know this soil best. I know this language best. I know the systems I’ve had to endure. I know the people I’ve connected with. I have had thirty years of alliances and thirty years of conflict from foes.

So I am Black British.

In the same way we have integrated and assimilated to these lands, it is in the same way we must speak about these lands that we claim. Or that have even claimed us.

There is a cultural depth that comes with humanity. And there is an innate human ignorance that comes with it as well.

And I’ll leave you with this.

When it comes to race — every race believes that they have individually, distinctly, made something for themselves, by themselves, and that other people took it. Stole it, one could say.

That is the ignorance.

Humanity is a collaboration. No white man created one thing and gave it to the Black man. No Black man created one thing and gave it to the white man. What we call cultural appropriation is when someone takes something and claims it as their own without credit. You must always give credit to where you take influence from. Give credit from where your work is derived.

Not as an exact copy and paste — but as a divergence of its initial path. A trajectory which has now shifted into yours. Shifted by your own hand, from your own experience, for your own purpose.

But understand this — you do not own these things.

Humanity is one species in a vast collaborative experience. I wouldn’t be here without the plumbers who figured out plumbing thousands of years ago. The same goes for cars. For cooking. For the human beings who tried and tested every fruit underneath the sun to know what was edible and what was poison.

In the same way we have collaborated on society’s most basic and essential needs — is in the same way we must collaborate on the creative fields. Introspectively and respectively.

And… that’s all i wrote…