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I cannot say if this happens to black people the world over, but in Britain, white people will ask black people where they hail from within minutes of meeting for the first time. And no matter how I say plainly that I was born here, the very next question is, ‘Where do your parents come from?’ 'Almost British-Revisited' p.202 Nairobi Thompson (Available now! Amazon/major retailers) I wrote this paragraph in 2008. Yet here we are some 14 years later, and this comment is making national news because a member of the Royal Household Lady Susan Hussey repeatedly asked Ngozi Fulani where she came from. (Ngozi Fulani: Lady Susan Hussey's race comments were abuse, says charity boss - BBC News.) Ngozi was invited to Buckingham Palace as the founder and Chief Exec of Sistah Space, the only domestic abuse charity in the UK that caters specifically for women and girls of African and Caribbean heritage. This week she attended a reception that was part of the United Nations' 16 days of activism against gender-based violence. It kicked off on 25 November, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women, and will run until 10 December, Human Rights Day. What was supposed to be an opportunity for solidarity for the cause, to network and maybe even to get a little healing by being in a positive supportive space, became an abusive situation for Ngozi and her colleagues. Within minutes of arrival, she was approached by Lady Hussey who immediately invaded her space by taking hold of Ngozi’s Locs and moving them out of the way to see Ngozi’s name tag. Surely a polite enquiry as to a visitor’s name should have been the appropriate response to not being able to see a name tag. But instead, there was this invasion, this brazen assertion that she could touch Ngozi like she was rearranging trinkets on a sideboard! Lady Hussey demonstrated a level of entitlement and arrogance in assuming she had the right, had latitude to wilfully touch someone in a personal place without their permission. This gesture was not one of affection, reassurance or an attempt at a welcome - it was an invasion of personal space. In some places this is considered assault. And before people think I'm exaggerating just imagine Ngozi cutting through the crowd and making a beeline for Queen Consort Camilla; then immediately moving Camilla's hair about. I'm pretty sure that close protection and security teams would have been on it! And do you remember the fuss that was made when 1st Lady Michelle Obama 'broke protocol' and 'touched' the Queen with a gentle arm on her back, and the Queen reciprocated... (Michelle Obama Speaks About the Time She Touched Queen Elizabeth (businessinsider.com). But the level of fuss about protocols being broken was insane. I'm juss sayin'... When I heard this part of Ngozi's story, I was pretty disgusted and wearied by this pervasive practice of dehumanisation. There is a very long history to be told about our hair and perhaps I will do this in another post. But for now, I will remind people that the styles we wear have their basis in denoting our lineage, our social and marital status, our wealth, our history. Just like the Scottish tartans denoted different clans and an English Coat of Arms denoted family descent and alliances, our hair styles denoted our various identities... and not forgetting that our hair is physically attached to our person! This is one of the reasons why, when my ancestors were enslaved by Europeans that our heads were shaved. It was one of the first dehumanising acts of many, after capture. It was a very visual, traumatic and immediate 'binning' of our identities (Who Decided Black Hair Is So Offensive Anyway? | Glamour). It was an unmistakeable and forceful assertion of dominance over us. But let’s just look at what else we’ve had to put up with for centuries regarding our hair: Our hair has been legislated against (Tignon Laws: The dreadful rule that banned black women from displaying their hair - Face2Face Africa) because white women were jealous of our fashion sense and upset that white men found us attractive! Our hair has been ridiculed and seen as dirty – I’ve lost count of the many times a white person has asked me if I can wash my hair – I mean seriously! (Do Black People Wash Their Hair Everyday? How Often? (curlcentric.com) We’ve been told that our hair is ugly ('Black women have been told their natural hair is 'ugly' for centuries. I want them to show it off' - MyLondon). We’ve been told our hair (and how we manage it) is unprofessional (Six black women detail horrific discrimination they have faced over their hair | Daily Mail Online) and been fired for wearing our hair naturally. We’ve been pressured to assimilate and meet western standards (Why women are fighting back against hair oppression - BBC News) and threatened with consequences. Our hair has been politicised, compared to Brillo scouring pads (remember them) and pubic hair! (Why Is Black Hair Still Being Politicised In 2021? | Glamour UK (glamourmagazine.co.uk). These comments invariably tend to be made in front of other people causing great embarrassment. And yes, even in the 21st century our young girls and boys are being sent home from school and having their education disrupted because of school policy that targets the way our hair grows naturally! (Pupil repeatedly sent home from school over afro hair wins £8,500 payout | The Independent | The Independent) This little list hasn’t even scratched the surface of what we face throughout our lives. How about minding your own business sitting on the bus and feeling as if something is in your hair only to find the person behind you touching your hair. Or being at work and colleagues simply inviting themselves to touch your hair! (Do have a look at my ‘Staple Stanzas’ poetry page and see my poem entitled ‘My Hair, My Rules’). Suffice to say our hair and the alienation, trauma and embarrassment we’ve suffered is an emotive subject for many. Ngozi had to suffer the indignity of this invasion of her person by someone who should have known better but obviously given her years, privilege and seniority didn’t have to do better. As if that wasn’t enough, having ascertained her name by touching and moving Ngozi’s Locs, there was no ‘Ooooh Ngozi… that’s a beautiful name...’ oh no! The offence and invasion was followed by another offence and more intrusion. This is what Ngozi posted on twitter afterwards: Just mind-numbingly incredible! ‘Which part of Africa are YOU from?’ 'Where do your people come from?'. Shaking my head. The Palace responded by saying: "We take this incident extremely seriously and have investigated immediately to establish the full details. In this instance, unacceptable and deeply regrettable comments have been made… In the meantime, the individual concerned would like to express her profound apologies for the hurt caused and has stepped aside from her honorary role with immediate effect…” First off why is Lady ‘Chatty’ not chatty enough to apologise for herself? There is clear evidence of her chattiness and ability to ask and keep asking questions but when it comes to the apology… Oh that’s somebody else’s job. Oh the joys of having convenient protocols to hide behind. And this Palace spokesperson couldn’t even name the person who was expressing ‘profound apologies’ and cites them as ‘…the individual concerned…’. Well, I don’t know about you but I’m not feelin’ dat apology. Ngozi has to speak for herself, but Lady Hussey has all these people speaking for her – more privilege. Moreover, we have the 'framing' of this as a solitary incident – errrmmm it’s the incident that we know of! And when I consider how determined she was to get the answer she wanted, it strikes me that she is well versed in pressing for what she wants - in whatever way she sees fit. She was after all the late Queen's 'number one Head Girl.' Let's not forget as Queen Elisabeth II's Lady-in-Waiting, one of her closest confidants and William's (The Prince of Wales, and next in line to the Throne) godmother, she had some sway! She was not an underling who lost her footing having become overwhelmed in an unfamiliar, high-pressure environment. She was an established 6-decade serving, honorary member of the royal household having stood alongside the late Queen in countless official outings. I think 60 years working in the same environment is ample time to observe the protocols for how to respectfully interact with others - but that's just me. Other aides are focussing on the selfless unpaid service Lady Hussey gave to the Queen – but failing to mention people holding such positions typically don’t get paid because they are often from ‘wealthy, noble families’ (Who is Lady Susan Hussey? Why did she quit Buckingham Palace? | Metro News). Of course, we know she has since ‘stepped aside’ but to do what? Does she have a country estate to retire to as Susan Katharine Hussey, Baroness Hussey of North Bradley; fifth and youngest daughter of the 12th Earl Waldegrave; sister of the 13th Earl Waldegrave…probably. I think I’m going to have to re-read my blog on empathy because I’m running a little low. A spokesperson for Prince William additionally said that 'racism has no place in our society.' I keep hearing this, but we keep finding it! When I'm off on my travels and my suitcase is full i.e., there is no space in it for anything else, I have never arrived at my destination to find the thing that could not fit, magically appearing in my suitcase. If there is no place for racism in our institutions, then why do we keep finding racism in our institutions - does it have a secret lair! Maybe the honest response should be that there is currently (and unacceptably) plenty of space for racism in Britain and there needs to be commitment to a clear strategy for rooting it out. The response from some however is not the honesty that I'm talking about. I'm at a loss as now we have to additionally listen to people getting upset because Lady Hussey is being vilified for a single misstep after years of loyal service. And not forgetting that she is 83 years old - like getting old makes you racist?! All of a sudden, the generational power and privilege that she leaned into when she challenged Ngozi’s lived experience... is gone...poof! And she has become the victim. The person suffering loss – not Ngozi or her colleagues or the rest of us who are offended by extension. Lady Hussey is the one suffering and we need to give her a break! There are even some people accusing King Charles' aides of moving with ‘indecent haste’ in announcing Lady Hussey’s departure (Lady Susan Hussey will be 'mortified' at causing offence with her remarks | Daily Mail Online). But what about Lady Hussey’s ‘indecent haste’ to devalue Ngozi’s identity as not being truly British?! Where is their outrage over that? Lady Hussey was not uncomfortable in having this conversation - she was pressing Ngozi for the answer she wanted. People who are uncomfortable don't normally 'press', they avoid. Lady Hussey was oblivious to or discounting of Ngozi's discomfort and this is what speaks to a deeper culture within the Palace, our institutions, our society where causing harm to black people, homing in on our existence as a negative or something suspect, and thinking nothing of it - is acceptable normalised behaviour. So much so there is no shortage of people I've never heard of ready to shift the focus to Lady Hussey's faithfulness to the royals and the devastation she must be experiencing. Petronella Wyatt who apparently is close to the royals and has known Lady Susan since she was 18 has been reported in Yahoo news as saying, 'poor Susan Hussey is 83... [this] must be the first time [Hussey] has ever offended anyone... [and] this will ruin her life.' Keep CALM and CARRY ON... All is not lost - the legacy continues because Lady Hussey's daughter 'Lady Katharine Brooke is a close friend of the Queen Consort, and has just been appointed one of Camilla’s six new Queen’s Companions' (Camilla scraps ladies-in-waiting in modernising move - BBC News). I guess Lady Hussey will still be able to pop into the Palace for a spot of tea and crumpets when her daughter has a lunch break or perhaps to see her godson, Prince William? Rolling my eyes! Ngozi told Lady Hussey that she came from Sistah Space... from Hackney... from the UK... born in Britain... She said she was British... She said she was a British National... and it still wasn’t enough until Ngozi mentioned her Caribbean parents. Lady Hussey ground Ngozi down until she could confirm that whatever claim to Britishness Ngozi had, it was not valid – at least not in the Palace where she was invited to attend. I applaud Ngozi for speaking out and standing firm in clearly and unequivocally stating that what she experienced was abuse and it was racism. That’s her lived experience - and it was unacceptable that she was invited to a place where she should have been safe - and she wasn't. Where do you really, really come from? Nunya... Nunya business. Nairobi Thompson Blog (c) 2022

You have long grown accustomed To the things about me That used to make your heart Beat faster Nothing about me excites you anymore And yet I love you My breasts though shapely Lighter now The subtle changes in them go unnoticed Caressed only by brand names Lingerie keeping The promises your hands made To hold and squeeze In sickness and in health My stomach shows little sign Of the children I bore you It barely remembers your head Laid upon it in Comfort, oneness and desire Though flames flicker inwardly No grace has been afforded My elegant ageing My silver fox Holds no fascination for you For you otherwise occupied Did not see her turn grey So long a time it has been Since you burned for her Visited her My mind sharper now Than when first we met Is not encouraged There is no respect For my seeking a higher Consciousness The challenges my intellect poses Gives rise to undisguised contempt Almost as if you would prefer Nothing more from me than Lobotomised domesticity My smile no longer charms And my quirkiness Finds no place Enchantment and mystery Were pushed out of the nest By irritation and impatience Chicks I did not hatch Both grow too fat to fly You favour them to me My abundant spirit cannot get passed them I had seen you grow tired And I was helpless To stop the thing that always happens When you have no talent Other than being yourself To offer the one you love And once that stops being enough You watch love fade aided By others who seem to live the most flamboyant lives As compared with yours As if they exist beyond the mundane Never having to eat cereal for breakfast Or do the weekly shop online With suitcase in hand I stand and take one last look at The life we built where I Have lived alone Waiting for you to Love me again Aching for you to Know me again When I told you I was leaving You asked sardonically where would I go And what would I do Without you Not once did you say Please stay You have long grown accustomed To the things about me That used to make your heart Beat faster Nothing about me excites you anymore And yet I loved you Longer than you deserved NaiNai (c) 2013

White fantasy about black sexuality Tantalised the ‘civilised’ world with acceptability Of the tanned noble savage With old money and family estates “Me Tarzan — you Jane” His animalistic aggression made plain Yet only made tame by white Jane All these years in the jungle Virginal—until Jane No daughter of Chief or warrior Queen Ignited a flame This fantasy could not stretch to a white child Lovingly raised by black people The pen preferred a white lord reared by apes! Mothering apes had more compassion More compulsion to care For an infant human Than the non-human/non-animal original inhabitants of the land Neither writer nor reader had any appetite for one morsel Of humanity in black humans The quill portrayed A man that was raised by apes A man preserved for his kind Of which there was none until Gentle Jane The page could not support his innocence lost to The hyper-sexualised African woman with exaggerated features Who did not seek her own But departed from nature to consort with beasts Polite society and easily offended Delicate sensibilities Demanded a respectable wait for Jane To tame that jungle mane NairobI Thompson (c) 2021 #NairobiThompsonPoetry #Poet247 #Tarzan #LordoftheJungle #TarzanandJane #Cheetah #KingoftheApes #WesternMyths #WhiteComfort

People have often asked me why I stayed in such a toxic environment while working for the Ministry of Justice. Why didn’t I just leave? I stayed for nearly 2 decades in various departments – it couldn’t have been that bad if I stayed for so long…right? Well I guess just like any relationship that isn’t working out, I stayed for a myriad of different reasons. I stayed because I loved my job; I had invested a lot of time and effort. I stayed because I hoped things would get better. I deluded myself that things had to get better after the court ruled that I had been subjected to direct racial discrimination, racial harassment and victimisation on racial grounds! 'Of course things would get better. Of course the perpetrators would be dealt with'. I stayed because I was optimistic and I was naïve. Whilst I appreciated that raising complaints of racism would cause disruption, I had no way of knowing that after I complained, the people who were bullying me would get promoted! (Read my book 'Almost British-Revisited!) And that they would be allowed to continue to bully me from their new loftier positions. (Read my book!) I actually believed I would get justice in the Ministry of Justice. Let’s take each point in turn – I loved my job. I was good at my job, and this was something I knew to be true because people were genuinely appreciative of my craft, they regularly gave detailed and specific feedback. I met and often exceeded my annual targets. People thanked me sincerely for the work I did for them. They recommended me to others and put me forward for awards, rewards and recognition. I won awards and was actively requested to lead on certain projects by my stakeholders. If I was to leave my job, as far as I was concerned - it needed to be for reasons unrelated to abuse! If I was to leave my job it should be because I have gained the opportunity to move to a better position, better pay, better terms and conditions. I shouldn’t be leaving because someone is forcing me to. I was well educated, properly experienced and I loved my job. What I hated was being belittled in front of others or at all. I hated being racially stereotyped. I hated all types of abuse. In complaining about the abuse, my hope was to put an end to said abuse so that I could continue to do the job I loved. I accepted that movement towards a harassment-free workplace would take some time and I was prepared to wait and push for change. So I did this dance a number of times like an insane person – doing the same thing and expecting different results. Emotionally I was in a place where I pendulum swung between belligerence which fueled me digging my heels in – refusing to leave! I mean who did these people think they were? You don’t get to push me out!!! Then there would be the pendulum swing to the other extreme…’I’m a professional – Get me out of here!’ I swung back and forth for years. I applied for jobs within government, outside of government, toyed with working for myself…then I’d be like, ‘No!!! I’m not going anywhere. Why should I have to leave!!!!’ Every once in a while I would be in a good place, working with a decent and fair manager and that would give me hope. Psychologists call this period ‘Intermittent Reinforcement’. It’s where a few positive moments give you hope that the ‘relationship’, the situation can still work. Intermittent Reinforcement gives you a glimpse of what you are yearning for. It’s a powerful drug because it reinforces that 'future state' you’re so desperate to arrive at. But what it also does is bond you to the trauma. It keeps you enduring the next bout of abuse because you are holding on to that brief period of when things were good and the belief that they can be good again. You reframe the current abuse as a blip, and encourage yourself that there will soon be a return to that good place. This swinging back and forth was because I didn’t want to leave the job I loved. I loved working with Judges, both in the UK and internationally. I loved working with Prison Governors and senior managers. What I wanted was to do exactly what my white colleagues were able to do – to get up each morning, go to work and just do a good job without having to think about people disliking me because of the colour of my skin, my ethnicity, my culture; without people actively working towards my downfall for the same reasons whilst they convince everyone else (including themselves) that their pursuit of my demise isn’t personal (Read the Book!). That was what I wanted – to be left alone to thrive. And as long as that remained my deepest motivation…I stayed. Things really changed for me when my circumstances meant I could meet that deep motivation, by working for myself! That leads me to the other reasons I stayed – I needed to get paid like everybody else! Human beings form attachments to people, groups and organisations to ensure their individual survival. This means that when your main source of survival or a means to survive i.e. your job becomes a place where you are abused, you can end up forming a trauma bond in that you are reliant on someone or something that is also causing you harm. It creates this contradiction where you have needs met in the same place you are suffering. Earning a good salary was important for a number of reasons, not least because I had a chronically ill and then terminally ill mother to look after. She was my heartbeat, and I was committed to keep her in the home she loved, and give her the best care, then the best end-of-life care I could facilitate for her. It still surprises me that people ask me why I stayed - like getting a new senior role as a black woman in Britain who has won a case against her employers for racism is gonna be easy! Rolling my eyes! But let’s take the fact that I took my employers to court and won rulings against them out of the picture. Let’s just see me as Black woman in Britain looking to get another job. According to a UK report by the 'Black Women in Leadership Network' (2022) 4 in 10 Black Women do not believe they are offered the same career advancement opportunities as their non-black female colleagues Almost half of those surveyed believe they will be overlooked for promotion 2 in 3 Black Women reported experiencing racial bias at work 33% of Black women surveyed had resigned from a professional position due to racially related unfair treatment in the workplace, a proportion rising to 52% for those in a senior executive position. Version 2 - BWIL Survey 2022 (wsimg.com) Forbes reports that Black women are paid 21% less than white women Black Women Are Paid Less Than White Women: Here’s Why It Matters (forbes.com) The UK Office of National Statistics report “Employees in the Black African, Caribbean or Black British… on average earned 5% to 10% less than their White British counterparts between 2012 and 2018”. Ethnicity pay gaps in Great Britain - Office for National Statistics (ons.gov.uk) A PBS report (2018) said “women of color are not only significantly underrepresented, they are far less likely than others to be promoted to manager, more likely to face everyday discrimination and less likely to receive support from their managers.” It goes on to report: For every 100 men promoted to manager, only 60 black women are. 40% of black women have had their judgment questioned in their area of expertise; 27% of men have. Only 35% of black women said their manager promotes their contributions to others; 46% of men said their manager does. 41% of black women said they never have a substantive interaction with a senior leader about their work; just 27% of men said that. Report: Black women less likely to be promoted, supported by their managers | PBS NewsHour If you're still in doubt to the challenges we face, a TUC Report (2022) 'Still Rigged' has reported the following: More than 1 in 4 (27%) BME people said they experienced racist jokes or “banter” at work in the last five years. More than 1 in 4 (26%) BME workers said that they were made to feel uncomfortable at work due to people using stereotypes or commenting on their appearance. 1 in 5 (21%) said they had racist remarks directed at them or made in their presence. And 1 in 5 (21%) said they were bullied or harassed at work. Just a little more for good measure... 1 in 7 (14%) BME workers reported facing unfair criticism in the last five years. 1 in 9 (11%) said they were given an unfair performance assessment. 1 in 13 (8%) told the TUC they were unfairly disciplined at work. 1 in 14 (7%) said they have been subjected to excessive surveillance or scrutiny. 1 in 8 (12%) of BME workers said they were denied promotions. 1 in 8 (12%) of BME workers reported being given harder or less popular work tasks than white colleagues. And around 1 in 11 (9%) told the TUC they had their requests for training and development opportunities turned down. 2 in 5 BME workers experience racism at work – new TUC report | TUC If I enjoyed a fraction of the privileges some of my white colleagues had, I would have been able to leave the Ministry of Justice on a whim and with the confidence that I could get another job at the drop of a hat. I was after all very good at my job. I probably would have been headhunted or simply had a job created for me or just promoted into a role that wasn't advertised. Yup I've seen all these things done in a place they say these things don't happen! But knew I was a black woman in Britain and that’s a dose of realism that tempers every significant decision I make in my life! So why didn’t I leave a toxic environment – why didn't I leave such an intolerable situation…I did. It just took me a while to leave in the way I wanted, for the reasons I wanted, and for that I make no apology. Nairobi Thompson Blog post (c) 2022

So you think you have empathy… True empathy is not an intellectual or conceptual understanding of something you have never experienced – that sits in the sympathy space. You can feel sorry for someone in a particular situation but not be ‘in the moment with them’, feeling what they are feeling. In order to be truly empathic you have to have already experienced something and have the capacity to revisit or tap into that experience, to access the emotions, the joys, the fears associated with that experience, and then directly apply them to somebody else’s situation. Empathy compels you to act in ways that alleviate someone’s distress. If all you have is a glib response to their pain or an opinion about what they should be doing, and you have no desire to ‘get involved’ – then what you are experiencing is NOT empathy. Empathy moves you to emotionally be in the situation with the other person and demonstrate that you understand the complexity of their problems and the importance of their concerns. Most people consider themselves to be empathic because they think they understand somebody else’s experience. But its more than understanding a situation or a point of view. And because they think they understand they determine themselves sufficiently ‘qualified’ to comment on someone’s situation. In reality what they call empathy is a limited view of someone else’s pain and a demonstration of an empathy gap! An empathy gap exists where an individual (because they lack certain directly relatable experiences) is unable to put themselves in someone else’s shoes in order to show compassion and whatever support is required for someone other than themselves. We don't like the idea that as a person we can fail to understand a different perspective. We prefer to believe that we are open minded enough, broadminded enough to understand different mental, emotional, social states to justify our opinions of others, our judgments of others and our predictions of the actions these people are likely to take. What we describe as empathy for many is in reality our justification to judge others. Saying things like “I know what it's like to a,b,c” or “ I've been in that position and I never had to x,y,z...” enables us to judge, because I am now judging from a position of “experience”. Prefacing my judgement with words like “I know what it's like…” allows us to prejudge, misjudge, dismiss, ridicule, and condemn the actions of others when all we've actually done is struggle to understand the reality and complexity of someone else’s situation or condition. For example, [Scenario 1] consider that I have experienced a loss of liberty (for any reason). I was however provided with food and clothing, but I could not go out when I wanted to. I had limited personal choice over what to wear. I was told who I could and could not speak to. I was not allowed to manage my money. I was criticised or punished if I failed to do as I was told etc. I then go on to hear stories about Meghan Markle regarding the challenges of being a princess relative to a loss of liberty and loss control of one’s life. On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate my empathy in that moment? I think I would score a ‘7’ or ‘8’. If I am truly empathic and by that, I mean I am able to share aspects of an experience with somebody else – I will tune into Megan Markle’s loss of liberty, not being free to come and go etc. My empathy would be quite high. I would of course recognise that I am not a princess, not rich and not an icon/celebrity but I would be able to align myself with certain aspects of her experiences in relative terms. I would tap into what it was like for me when I wasn’t free to do my own thing. I would then be moved to act in ways informed by my empathy. So where others might say.. ‘Oh boohoo Megan—that’s the price you pay!’…because I empathise, I am likely to defend her rather than criticise. [Scenario 2] Now consider that I have never experienced a loss of liberty (though I have an intellectual, conceptual understanding of what that might be like). I am an average person doing an average job, trying to make ends meet. I haven’t had a holiday in forever, I can’t afford designer clothes, my car has been off the road because I can’t afford to tax it at the moment and the boiler is on its way out etc. Then I hear this story about the challenges of being a princess…on a scale of 1 to 10 how would you rate my empathy? ‘0000.1’ Now in both scenarios do I not have the capacity to understand the concept of a loss of liberty? Of course I do. But my capacity to be empathetic is directly linked to my current situation along with my past experiences which have also informed my current situation. We describe this phenomenon as state dependency. In other words how we process information and make decisions strongly depends on our mental state at the time. This is how an empathy gap occurs because as I said at the beginning, we can conceptually understand something, but our lack of relative experience and our present circumstances will determine how wide the empathy gap is. This is how I can say with conviction for example, I would never be hungry enough to dumpster dive – I would find an alternative because I’m good under pressure! I can say with conviction that I would never cheat on my partner, or I would never join a cult – only weak-minded people do that! I would never feel pressured enough to take drugs! And so on… because my current mental state does not give me the capacity to tune into the mental state of another person who has a drug addiction for example because I have never experienced addiction. Let me give you a working example of how an empathy gap can exist, and be narrowed or closed. I had been conditioned for many years by others, the media and certain outreach programmes that you should not give people considered to be homeless or rough sleeping, money because they will spend it on alcohol or drugs. I’ve watched documentaries that confirmed this, where parents pleaded with viewers not to give homeless young people money because they do have a loving home to come back to. I was systematically advised to instead buy the coffee the homeless person or rough sleeper was asking for, or the meal that they were asking for. But one night on my way home from work I had to walk from the train station to my home because I could not get a cab. It had been a long (and if you know my story, trying day). The tube (subway) was packed. The train was cold. I just couldn't get warm. And now I had to walk home! It was only a 20-minute walk but on that night the temperature had fallen to about -3 degrees. It was absolutely freezing. I do not function well in the cold—it makes me quite grumpy. As I walked home it occurred to me that as miserable as I was walking in the cold, as annoyed as I was because I could not get a cab, that each step I took drew me closer to a centrally heated house, a safe environment, and a place where I would very soon be able to eat, drink, unwind, and sleep. And I considered that there were individuals who in that very moment we're outside sleeping rough, and even though there were shelters available we all know that every person in need of shelter for whatever reason is not accommodated every time. As I walked I started to think — what if I had to spend this particular night outside. What would help me get through the night? And I considered that I would have to drink a whole bottle of something to numb the pain of the cold, to numb the pain of knowing that I was sooooo out of options that sleeping rough was all that was available to me; to numb the pain of no one caring about me; the pain of invisibility; a lack of safety, a lack of hope that would be there the next day, the next night, the next day, the next night…. Even with my conditioning, I have given money to rough sleepers…but I often wandered if they would spend that money on drugs. Yet as I walked home on this freezing cold night, I had an epiphany. I realised that my judgement around addiction was fuelled by my own lack of empathy. I was giving and judging at the same time. The little bit of empathy I had (in that I would give them money) was snuffed out by judgement. When I give money to rough sleepers now whilst I do not condone addiction of any kind, I recognise that if I was in that position I might not be handling that situation any better or any differently than they are. Now when I give money there's no judgement, no wondering what the rough sleeper might spend that money on. No wondering about how they can afford to have a dog while I’m struggling in various days. Instead, there is hope that this is the last night of having to sleep rough; there is hope that any kindness shown by others is just what they needed in that moment. And in a world where they are often invisible, ignored and sometimes abused it must give them such joy to have a dog to care about, to love and be loved back! Our capacity to empathise is state dependent. There can be a huge gap between where we are versus where somebody else is, and until we have the humility to recognise this, we will continue to struggle to understand someone else’s situation whilst simultaneously deluding ourselves that we do understand, and that we understand well enough to comment, make decisions, predictions, and pass judgement. We don't like to see ourselves as lacking, but to be truly human is to recognise our own lack, our own failings along with the humility that is necessary to understand and support others. Nairobi Thompson Blog Post (c) 2022 For more information on the empathy gap see: The Empathy Gap: Why People Fail to Understand Different Perspectives – Effectiviology

They burned me alive hung from a tree Burned me in battle for Empire’s gains The centuries pass and nothing's changed In tower blocks still they're burning me We’ve never fit their paradigm The lowest caste in high-rise flung We’ve never been their sort, their kind An eyesore, flies in ointment clung They feign concern in spotlight’s glare Removing dead in secret nights Rewriting history dimming lights Even though they were not there They promise justice will be found And though we speak we make no sound Our poverty obscures our worth To them we are expelled afterbirth Nairobi Thompson (c) 2017

My body is drunk again Yet with sober eyes Still seeing all that I despise Before me When did I learn to loathe myself? To diminish my wealth and damage my health Because I was not worth the care Of good choices? Who taught me that I was a freak? Leaking disgust seeking Redemption in ivory It started when your eyes said 'Something grotesque this way comes’ It began when I looked behind me To realise what had repulsed you so... was me It gathered momentum when I realised It was the touch of my hand On yours that made you recoil And I was only five On and on it went Year after year Slight upon slight All teaching me to Hate myself All telling me that I’m not right Millennia of demonisation Has washed over my soul And crippled my eye I see nothing but that which Is unwanted This dark skin Its origin disputed Its usefulness excluded From legitimacy I punish myself for being So unlovely, so un-light In all that I have done to my body To attain conformity Before me I still see No more Than all I have grown to abhor Nairobi Thompson (c) 2012

The so called ‘killings’ were not a matter of murder or morality But a question of insurance for property: Blacks jettisoned to save the lives Of English crewmen returning home to wives It is an impertinence to question The judgement of a captain So highly regarded The mere suggestion is folly akin To throwing him — this upstanding man— overboard And that would be our sin We cannot look at with derision Where the law makes logical provision: Humans were not thrown overboard Humans were not murdered Simply put — a disposal of property was legitimately ordered And reparations for the loss Are rightfully due To the investors and the crew Nairobi Thompson (c) 2019 The Zong massacre was a mass killing of more than 130 African enslaved people by the crew of the British slaver ship Zong on and in the days following 29 November 1781 For more information see:

The sun set in my eye Of slave ship set for sale With all my joy abroad The window of my soul a gape Awaiting the return Of my crudely taken love The tide of tears in desperation Rise in futile swells To surge the ship Back to African shores My tears they brim and overflow And heartstrings stretched to breaking As my treasure farther farther goes Smaller smaller till my pupil dark A mirror of my nation ripped apart Nairobi Thompson (c) 2015 Art by WAK 'The Worst Sight'

I work hard to stay in shape Plenty dumpling, yam and cakes I don’t shame about my size I am grateful for my thighs! I got contours, I got plus Curvy beauty is a must What a drab world this would be If it was void of curves like me Being size zero’s overrated Hollow bones, emaciated Ever shrinking, nearly dead Leaving them with bobble heads Ribs on show and collar bones Excessive surgery makes them clones Mi seh eat some food and feel delight Low fat spread just isn’t right! I love me, inside and out I am beauty there’s no doubt I am glad that I am me Curvy, full and luscious, see! NaiNai (c) 2011

i live yesterday today and hope tomorrow is different even though i know i shall spend it looking back since the presence of the past is always present i cannot break free from the inexplicably inescapable torment of being without you it is unjustifiable to blame you for every time i have broken my own heart by trusting that which i knew could not sustain me by leaning on arms i knew would fail me i remind myself not to think about you and in so doing i think about you!! i forget that i'm supposed to forget and call to the fore all that should have been laid to rest at the behest of my heart my quest to forget falters and if this was a test then the only thing i could attest to is that the best times i ever had were the times i was blest to be with you i know we cannot be together i know you belong to someone else but there's something about you that means i cannot help myself i want to let you go i want you to know that i have integrity but when you touch me it messes with me and all the resolve to give you up dissolves and i'm left with an inability to free myself from you so just for today for one more day let's pretend that we found each other just before we settled for what was immediately in front of us for fear that we would never find the stuff of romantic novels and let us lose ourselves in this moment divided infinitesimally so that this last dance lasts the rest of our lives NaiNai (c) 2014 Image fm 'The Story of Lovers Rock' by Menelik Shabazz

Come to England Come to England Come to the Motherland A call to arms, a call to fight To give your substance and your might To serve the King and love the Queen You will be welcome – will be seen Without question, without doubt We run to heed our mother’s shout The country’s poor and broken down The call again, the clarion sound Calling workers from each isle To labour hard and stay a while Without question, without doubt We run to heed our mother’s shout Now the country’s been rebuilt By hard work and blood we spilt Our mother has no need of us And claims our number is too much Now we question, now we doubt Why does our mother want us out? With borders closed and fear increased They say we drain and bring disease The call for us is to return Our loyalty and service spurned She’s not our mother there’s no doubt She flushed us in to force us out She lied when she said we are kin She loves the colour of our blood But hates the colour of our skin Nairobi Thompson (c) 2010