Violence and Abuse Against Young Women

Picture the following scenario if you may. A young lady going home (East London) on a dark winters evening- say around 7- from a long day at university. An African-Caribbean guy on his bike shouts “Oi, oi, oi, oi” as he rides past speedily almost startling this young lady. After mumbling a few words of discontent under her breath she gets over the near miss. To her dismay, the guy on his bike- now roughly 15 feet ahead-  looks back at her and does a u-turn. He approaches her on his bike, cycling around her. “You ‘aight baby?” He asks her with a slight patois in his voice. She ignores him. “Hello?, hello?”, he says still desperately trying to get her attention. “Can you leave me alone?”, she responds. “What?” he replies sounding upset at the dismissal. “You think you’re too pretty?”, he asks before gathering a mouthful of saliva and spitting on the left hand side of her face and in her eye. As she she reflexively swirls to her right in shock at what had just taken place- common assault- the offender rides off on his pedal bike faster than someone at the gym determined to lose a few pounds in one session.

Earlier today BBC London news reported the rise of sexual assault in London, with almost 100 reported cases of gang rape in the capital within the last year.

Two men who assaulted a girl aged 16 and doused her in caustic soda, disfiguring her for life, had their sentences increased on appeal.

In another case a 14-year-old girl was repeatedly raped ‘as punishment’ by nine members of a Hackney gang because she had ‘insulted’ their leader.

Deputy Chair of the London Assembly Jennette Arnold says that many young black men simply don’t have respect for females. That is certainly clear from all the above offences.

If you’re wondering who the young lady in the scenario was, it was me. The incident took place earlier this week only one minute away from my home. It left me more disillusioned with the behaviour of some young (black) men rather than shaken. Having been through 10 times more mental trauma in my young life, I suppose I found it fairly easy to deal with. That and the fact that my fiancé was there for me immediately after the incident. Even though he chased after the guy on the bike I’m glad he didn’t catch him because consumed with anger, his retaliation could have legally complicated the situation. The fact that I’m in a stable relationship allowed my general view of men not to be altered. After all, it’s unfair of me to tarnish all men with the same brush just because one imbecile showed utter disrespect to me.

Spitting is nasty, full stop but the sexual nature of his approach just made my skin crawl. To be honest, he belongs in the jungle if he considers that as being acceptable behaviour.  I mean, who honestly goes out of their way to do something like that?

I suppose by spitting on me, he thought I would feel degraded but I’m far too inwardly content with myself as an individual to let anyone make me feel worthless.

Without being patronising to myself, it could have been far worse. I could have been punched, slapped or kicked as well, or more seriously raped.

I don’t want to make it a race issue but unavoidably I was assaulted by a black male. I hate to say it but the stereotype prevailed. I could sit here all day debating, analysing and dissecting all possible explanations as to what may have driven him to behave in such a manner but I’d rather use my energy on something worthwhile that I can actually make a positively impact in mine or other people’s lives.

Of course, I reported the incident but only 10 minutes after it happened because felt that dialing 999 at the time would have been an futile attempt for the police to catch him, especially as my description of him was so vague. Unfortunately, the assault will probably just go down as another statistic of a reported but unsolved case. Although it may have been a one-off incident, I’ll definitely be investing in a personal noise alarm.

Useful links/numbers:

Police switchboard: 03001231212

Directgov page on rape and sexual assault

Girls In Violent Male Gangs See Rape As The Norm

Anti-gun-hiding poster

According to information compiled by charities and the police, teenage girls accept rape as a  normative part of joining violent male gangs.

Some are forced into to having sex with many of the gang , ferrying guns, knives and drugs without even questioning the fact that they’re being violated.

Last month, Police in London launched an add campaign warning that young women who hide guns and knives for their gangster boyfriends risk going to jail. The posters (left) were designed in an attempt to help prevent shootings in London by urging young women not to conceal weapons.

The campaign, aimed primarily at black teens, was launched in the light of the increasing amount of young women convicted for possessing weapons in the last year.

Like most of these type of campaigns, I don’t think it will work. Girls in gangs is nothing new. Some people defend the young girls by saying they feel pressurised into carrying weapons for their gang-member boyfriends.

Yes, they’re treated as second class citizens and subordinates to their male counterparts but-and I may sound cold- most of them know exactly what they’re getting themselves into. People will only treat you how you let them.

Prevention, as they say, is better than cure. Stay in school ladies, and earn yourselves a promising future. I’m tired of people blaming organisations, charities and the police. What’s wrong with these girls taking responsibility for their own lives?

It’s easy to throw money at a situation: glossy add campaign, more funding for charities but if these girls don’t want to genuinely help themselves how can anyone else help them?

Writer’s Block

I’ve returned home from what can only be expressed as a truly uplifting evening out. Tantalizingly described on Facebook by its organisers  as “vibrant spoken word, emotive, intimate live music and saliva-conjuring short films”, I had to ask myself: ‘how can I possibly say no to Writer’s Block?’.

The event, which was scheduled to start at 7:30pm, was held at Juno Bar in Shoreditch, East London.

My favourite performers included songstress Floetic Lara, hip-hop verbalist Breis (pronounced breeze), soul artist Martyna Baker, poet Deanna Rodger and of course the 7 piece band The Illersapiens.

Floetic Lara was truly delightful. Her ultra positive aura had me smiling throughout the whole of her performance. She freestyled so well with the band that it could have almost been mistaken as rehearsed. You can tell that this lady is doing what she loves: the passion, and spiritualism is infectious. The tone and balance to her vocals was so soothing that I just had to buy her album. Love, love, love.

Breis. I remembered his name purely because he spelt it out when performing one of his tracks called Identity (It’s da B to da R to da E to da I to da S…) Loved the song and loved his humour and free-spiritedness even more.

MB effortlessly played the guitar as her impeccable voice told a story so touching, I was almost moved to tears.

DR kept me so engaged that I almost felt as though I was right there, living her ‘Love Story’: her ups, her downs, her woes fears, realizations, and her tears.

The Illersapiens topped off the night with spectacular live music (and yes my right shoulder bounced along to the beat, as requested by the band’s frontman). The band’s singer has a beautiful voice and the MC was so on point with his flow, his content and his finesse.

That’s not to say the others weren’t amazing but these acts really stood out to me.The poetry was deep, conscious and inspiring. Admittedly, many of the acts put me in a trance and all the performers definitely gave me food for thought. I left the bar feeling somewhat elated and strangely wanting to rhyme every sentence and speak in iambic pentameter. I suppose that’s how I know the ‘writer’s block’ has had its affect on me. Can’t wait for the next event.

Photographs by Mark Bellot

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15 And Counting

As the media tally up the 15th murdered victim of violent youth crime of 2008, the government unveils a £3 million advertising campaign against knife crime.

The posters, which feature graphic images of real injuries inflicted from such attacks, are hoped to shock youth into realising the reality, severity and fatality of knife crime. Real images such as a knife piercing through a victim’s skin are amongst some of the emotive images featured. The government have also posted a reconstruction of a street stabbing on social networking sites in the hope that such shock tactics will prove effective in deterring such crimes.

The truth of the matter is that the youth of today are numb to such images because in a society where they have access to mediums such as violent video games and the internet, which admittedly contain far more disturbing images, it has become the norm to them. Yes, the government must appear to be doing something about the situation, and indeed yes the campaign is a tick in the box of Parliament’s to do list, but I doubt it will actually save lives. These images shock parents not the youth.

I’m sick and tired of people blaming communities: “There aren’t enough youth clubs”, “There isn’t much for youth to do.” My take on that? Absolute rubbish. As someone who from the age of 17 was forced to look after myself with no support or role model, I think it’s just a poor excuse. The facilities are there but for some reason the youth refuse to take advantage of them and opt for criminal activities that provide cheap thrills. To them going to the library or community centre is seen as ‘uncool’. To them street cred carries more value than academic success.
In theory, I was the perfect candidate to be sucked into that dark world of violent gangs: no guidance, little money, little power etc. But I found things to do with my time i.e. focusing on education and my career.

I knew where I wanted to go in life and it wasn’t a four -letter word that begins with J and ends in L. What happened to young individuals taking responsibility for themselves and their own actions? Going out there and making something of their lives; being innovative?

Statistics claim that those involved in such crimes come from working class, low-income, single parent families. Is this an excuse for the current climate of youth crime? If so, again, it’s a poor one.

Some say the parents are to blame. Parents who, for example, work such long hours that the only time they get to see their children, if at all, is late at night when they return home. Parents of whom have failed to establish the key foundations of regular communication with their children from an early age and therefore think that it’s the responsibility of their community to bring up their child and instil in them sound morals and respect. These children crave acceptance and a sense of belonging and unfortunately some end up finding it in violent gangs, leaders of whom become their role models.

This spate of cold-blooded murders infuriates me to the point of disbelief. Unless this ‘badge of honour’ mentality of these youths stops, the media’s tally will continue to rise. Unfortunately, I think things will have to get far worse in order to get better.

Jammin’ On The Journey Of Life

Desperately making my way back home on the bus from university the other day, I had the big misfortune of being stuck in a traffic jam around London’s bustling Liverpool Street.

Commuters who’ve experienced the joy of a cacophony of horns blowing, waving fists, and an endless sea of vehicles, you’d understand why I was far from amused.

Inside the bus pandemonium had broken loose: there were at least half a dozen people having a chin wag on their mobile phones to recipients that could be mistaken for being in another country. I mean, is there really any need to talk that loud when your mouth is right next to the phone, and I assume that the person on the other end has their ear right next to their phone?

Meanwhile, two female passengers felt it necessary to serenade us all with songs in Hindi, whilst a baby on the lower deck decided to express its disgust with the situation by screaming its head off. Filled with an emotion I can only describe as ill- feeling, I reached into my bag to get out my trusty iPod only to see on the screen ‘battery is low’. Damn! By this time, a sneaky little headache had begun and my left temple was pulsating like mad.

I looked at my watch to check out just how long I had been in hell for when I overheard two young guys behind me talking about serious life issues. One was upset that his girlfriend thought the solution to all their relationship problems was to get married, whilst the other was occupied with the thought that he might lose his job.

I found myself eavesdropping in on their conversation for the next twenty minutes, smiling at many of their comments, giggling softly to myself as well as reflecting on some of the difficult journeys I have overcome in my short life so far. By the time I knew it we were out of the traffic zone, my headache had miraculously disappeared, and I was twenty-five minutes away from home sweet home. It’s funny (funny interesting not funny haha) that when forced to be surrounded by people you would normally avoid that you come to realise we’re all very similar. We all have dreams, aspirations and anxieties. Life brings about so many worries as it is.

Stressing about a twenty-minute gridlock is one less worry we should have. After all, I’m grateful that I can even get onto a bus to travel around this buzzing cosmopolitan city. Next time I’m stuck in traffic – I hope not too soon – I’ll remember not to let silly minor things get to me. After all, life can be a traffic jam in itself. Tutting, sighing and kissing your teeth every ten seconds isn’t going to get you out of the jam. Only by staying calm can we escape the hustle and bustle and begin to enjoy the journey we call life.