Olivia: What if the most polite thing you can say about race is actually the most damaging? We're taught to be 'color-blind,' but today we're exploring a book that argues this very idea is a dangerous myth that keeps us from ever truly understanding each other. Jackson: That’s a huge claim, because being 'color-blind' is held up as the progressive ideal, right? It's what you're supposed to do. To suggest it's harmful is... well, it's a conversation starter. Olivia: It absolutely is. And it’s the central, explosive idea in Afua Hirsch's book, Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging. Jackson: And Hirsch is such a fascinating voice for this. She's not just a writer; she's an Oxford-educated barrister and journalist with this incredibly complex heritage—Ghanaian, British, even Jewish ancestry from a grandfather who fled Berlin. She's lived this 'in-between' her whole life. Olivia: Exactly. And that unique perspective is what makes the book so powerful and, for some, so controversial. It became a huge bestseller but also really polarized readers, which is exactly why we need to talk about it. Hirsch dives right into this with a story from her childhood that is just... chillingly relatable.

Jackson: I’m already bracing myself. Olivia: She’s fourteen years old, growing up in Wimbledon, a very white, very middle-class part of London. She's sitting under a tree with her school friends, and one of them turns to her, with a look of genuine pity, and says, "Don't worry, Af, we don't see you as black." And all the other friends nod in agreement. Jackson: Wow. I can totally see how they thought they were helping. In their minds, they were giving her a compliment, offering her an 'out' from being black, which they clearly saw as a bad thing. That's the insidious part, right? Olivia: That is the entire point. Hirsch writes that this moment, this supposed act of kindness, was one of the most traumatic things that had ever happened to her. Because what they were really saying was, 'Your blackness is a problem, but we'll do you the favor of ignoring it.' It’s an act of erasure. It invalidates her entire identity and heritage. Jackson: It’s like they’re saying, 'We accept you despite who you are, on the condition that you pretend not to be who you are.' That’s a heavy burden for a fourteen-year-old. Olivia: A massive burden. And it teaches a terrible lesson: that being black is bad, and that acknowledging race has sinister consequences. It shuts down any possibility of being proud of her heritage. And this wasn't an isolated thing. She tells another story about being a teenager and going to visit her friend who worked in a fancy boutique in Wimbledon Village. Jackson: Let me guess, it didn't go well. Olivia: The manager told her friend that Afua couldn't come in the shop. The reason? She was "off-putting to the other customers" and, the manager said, "the black girls are thieves." Jackson: Whoa. So on one hand, her friends are saying "we don't see you as black," but on the other hand, the world is screaming at her that she is, and that it's a problem. The contradiction is staggering. Olivia: Precisely. The 'color-blind' approach is a fantasy that only the privileged can afford. For Hirsch, her race was seen, judged, and used against her constantly. The pretense of not seeing it just added a layer of gaslighting to the experience. It makes you feel crazy for noticing something everyone else is pretending doesn't exist. Jackson: It feels like this 'not seeing race' idea can only exist if you also 'not see' history. Is that where she goes next?

Olivia: That's the perfect transition, because that's exactly her argument. This collective denial is only possible because of a much larger, national-level denial: Britain's historical amnesia about its empire and its role in the slave trade. Jackson: Okay, but people know about the slave trade. It’s taught in schools. William Wilberforce, the abolitionist, is a national hero. Olivia: And that’s the perfect example of the selective memory Hirsch talks about. She calls it the 'Cult of Wilberforce.' Britain loves to celebrate the story of how it abolished the slave trade, casting itself as the moral hero of the story. Jackson: But what’s being left out? Olivia: What’s left out is that for centuries before that, Britain was a dominant force in the slave trade. It built immense wealth from the suffering of millions. Hirsch describes a trip to the Caribbean island of Nevis, which was once a British colony. She sees the ruins of the sugar plantations and the holding cells where enslaved people were kept, and she realizes this isn't ancient history. The island's entire economy and demography were shaped by British demand for sugar. Jackson: That’s a powerful image. But some might still argue that was so long ago. Why does it matter today who gets the credit for abolition? Olivia: Because it shapes who is seen as an agent of history and who is seen as a passive victim. By focusing only on a white savior like Wilberforce, the narrative erases the contributions of black people who fought for their own freedom. For instance, have you ever heard of Ignatius Sancho? Jackson: Can't say I have. Olivia: He was an incredible figure. Born on a slave ship in the 18th century, he ended up in London, taught himself to read and write, opened a grocery store in Westminster, and became a famous composer and writer. He was the first person of African descent known to have voted in a British election. He wrote passionate letters arguing against slavery. He was a powerful, influential black abolitionist living right in the heart of London. Jackson: And he's just... been written out of the story. Olivia: Largely, yes. And when you erase figures like Sancho, you create a historical narrative where black people are just objects of history, not subjects. They are people things happen to. This has a profound psychological impact. Hirsch tells this amazing story about a WhatsApp group she's in with other black professional women. Jackson: Okay, I'm intrigued. Olivia: Someone in the group shared a link to a collection of sepia portraits of Victorian and Edwardian black women in England, looking elegant and dignified. And the group chat just exploded. These successful, modern women were in shock. They couldn't believe these images were real. Jackson: That’s incredible. So when those women saw the photos, it was like finding a piece of history that had been stolen from them. Olivia: Exactly. It was a revelation. It challenged the deep-seated insecurity they felt about being excluded from Britain's past. It proved they had always been here. The amnesia isn't just about forgetting bad deeds; it's about forgetting the very presence and contribution of black people to the fabric of Britain.

Jackson: That makes so much sense. It's about who gets to be part of the national story. And when you feel you're not, the natural impulse is to look for a story you do belong to. For Hirsch, that meant looking to Africa. Olivia: It did. Feeling alienated in Britain, she made a huge life decision. She moved to Dakar, Senegal, to work for a human rights organization. It was a conscious project to escape the complexities of being 'Brit(ish)' and to finally connect with an identity that felt whole and uncomplicated. Jackson: A return home, in a way. Olivia: That was the hope. But the reality was far more complex. She quickly discovered that in Senegal, she wasn't seen as simply 'African.' She was a 'toubab,' a foreigner. Her accent, her mannerisms, her entire cultural framework was British. The very thing she was trying to escape became her defining feature. Jackson: That's the ultimate identity crisis. You leave 'home' to find home, only to realize you don't fully fit there either. You're an 'eternal outsider.' Olivia: Precisely. She quotes the writer Zora Neale Hurston, who said, "I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background." For Hirsch, living in Senegal flipped that. Her Britishness became the sharp background against which her otherness was defined. She realized her identity wasn't something she could just shed and replace. Jackson: That’s a heartbreaking realization. To feel like there's nowhere you can just... be. Olivia: It is. And her relationship with Ghana, her mother's homeland, is just as complex. It's a place of deep ancestral connection, but also a place where she experienced a violent robbery that left her traumatized. It's not a simple, idyllic homeland. It's a real place, with its own beauty and its own dangers. Jackson: So the search for a geographical 'home' was a dead end. Olivia: In a way, yes. The book's conclusion isn't that she found a place to belong. The conclusion is that the search itself revealed the truth. She is Brit(ish). The hyphen, the complexity, the feeling of being in-between—that is her identity. There is nowhere else to go.

Jackson: So after all this—the polite racism, the forgotten history, the search for home—what's the big takeaway? Is there an answer to the question of 'belonging'? Olivia: The book's power is that it doesn't offer a simple one. Belonging isn't about finding a comfortable place or erasing the past. Hirsch's ultimate argument is that true belonging, for everyone in Britain, is only possible through a brutally honest conversation. Jackson: A conversation about all the things people would rather not talk about. Olivia: Exactly. Britain, she argues, needs to acknowledge its full, messy, often ugly history and the prejudices that are baked into its culture. She has this powerful line: "You cannot get over a wrong without the wrong having been named, owned and acknowledged." The denial, the 'not seeing race,' the historical amnesia—it all prevents that from happening. Jackson: So the work isn't to find a new identity, but to force the existing one—Britishness—to become more honest and inclusive. Olivia: That’s the core of it. The book doesn't offer easy answers, but it leaves you with a powerful question. Jackson: Right. What parts of our own history—personal or national—do we conveniently forget? And what's the cost of that forgetting? Olivia: It's a lot to think about. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Join the conversation on our social channels and let us know what resonated with you. Jackson: This is Aibrary, signing off.