When some of the first Black Lives Matter movements took place after the murder of Trayvon Martin, I got a call that shook me. My Auntie called me, scared, to request that I become my nephew’s guardian. She wanted to send him away from his home, away from the possibility of him becoming another protest, away to somewhere that she believed would be safe. She thought that he, a young Black child, would be safer here with me in the UK, than in the US. Trying to make her understand that Black people in the UK were also being assaulted, murdered, disproportionately sentenced and imprisoned, was difficult. Why?


Because we don’t speak about it. We don’t hear about it. It doesn’t make the news.

Every other day on Twitter, I noticed threads of other communities coming together to support each other when certain things happened. However, I was not seeing the same unity when these tragedies were happening in our community – no one seemed to be there when the stuff hit the fan. As a former youth worker, and a mother, I was inspired to do what I could to support my community and to change things for the better.

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