It's a no from me.

Hello, my love.

I am a true-born Londoner. I’ve always lived here, and I love it. To me, it is one of the best places in the world. I love the multiculturalism, the diverse languages, people, and all the exciting world foods you can find on every high street. London is alive morning, noon and night. The only thing that stops me from being a true Brit is my utter dislike of drinking tea. I can’t stand the stuff. Another sign of being a Londoner is the weather. We Brits do not do well in the heat. We are not made for it. Give me a light drizzle and a gentle breeze, and I’m happy as Larry. I have often thought about living abroad, but my heart will always be at home in London. We have withstood wars, terrorism, and so much hate, all while partaking in sarcastic banter over a lukewarm beer. We are known for standing up to hate, holding fast in the face of adversity, and striving to do what is right. Or, is that what we were once known for? Have we shifted even further to the right? How far to the right can we actually go before we fall off the edge forever? When will we all say a collective no? Enough is enough, as it’s a definite no from me.

As much as I love living in London, I used to dream about packing up all my worldly possessions and moving to another part of our beautiful planet. For a long time, I had wanted to live in America. I loved the country—the total nonsense of the states made my heart happy. Plus, their obsession with Halloween speaks to me. America was once the place where dreams could be made, with sunshine, pumpkin spice lattes and the home of Starbucks. However, in recent years, the once colourful place has turned into a country that has lost its way massively. Hate, fear and greed have taken over, and it has happened in real time right before our eyes, and yet we did nothing about it. I mean, after all, it's on the other side of the pond, so what the Americans do with their country is none of my business. If they want to take away the reproductive rights of all women, get rid of affordable health for millions of its citizens, food stamps, and lower the age at which little girls can get married to older men, who am I to have an opinion about it? There is nothing I can do. I am just one woman living in South London. Besides, London has its own problems; why should I speak out for people who will never know that I exist? If that’s what they want for their people, why should I say anything at all? Shouldn’t I be more concerned with what's happening on my own doorstep? And leave the rest of the world to do whatever they want, no matter the harm caused?

Back in London, my home and where all my roots are, I am an absolute Brit. And that has never been clearer than when I am travelling on public transport. And we have an excellent, if not underfunded and massively overcrowded, transport system. There are rules you must obey when travelling, and the most important one is not to make eye contact or talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary. And if you have to speak to someone, the rules dictate that you keep the conversation short. I try to adhere to these rules as closely as possible. Sometimes I get caught up in small talk, but I keep it brief, and then I go back to staring straight ahead, and praying that I can find a seat. So when I was confronted by a racist tirade on my early morning bus journey, I knew I had two options in front of me. Sit silently, hoping that it would all blow over, or do something about it.

The bus journey began, as most do, with me standing in the rain while waiting for the delayed bus to arrive. Jumping on to get out of the rain, I nabbed a seat right behind the driver. With my earbuds in, I settled down to listen to my audiobook, hoping to arrive at work on time. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening, as it all started so quickly. But the short of it was that a woman had pressed the bell in the middle of two stops and thrown a wobbly when the driver didn’t stop on demand, instead carrying on until the next stop. At first, she just berated the driver, but then she turned on him because of his ethnicity. I didn’t want to get involved. This wasn’t my fight. A woman was screaming at a male bus driver; it happens all the time, according to social media. He wouldn’t need my help, would he? And it was only a little bit of casual racism that wouldn’t hurt anyone. Was it best for me to ignore it and carry on listening to my book? What could I do anyway? I am just one woman sitting on a bus in the early morning. What good would I do? I tried to ignore it. I wanted to keep myself from jumping in. But when she brought his ethnicity into it, I couldn’t help myself. How dare she? How had we as a country allowed ourselves the privilege of saying whatever disgusting things we wanted with impunity? What she was saying was vile, cruel and downright despicable. And there was no way that I was going to let her get away with it.

Okay, so I’m not proud of shouting at a stranger. And telling her exactly how disgusting she was may have been a bit much at twenty past six in the morning, but I wasn’t having any of it. How dare anyone attack another human being just because of the colour of their skin? How has this level of racism crept into our daily lives with no one questioning it or holding the racists to account? What has happened to the London that I am so proud of? When do we fight for what is right and not allow hate to dictate our lives?

At first, nothing happened. The woman shut up, tried to defend her racist views, but she was faced with a very tired and very pissed off me, and that’s not a pretty sight, I can tell you. I wanted to go back to sitting down, switching off, and hoping that I wouldn’t be late to work. But the driver turned off the bus, exited the cab, and came to stand in front of me. This was it. I was about to be banned from TFL. At the very least, I was sure the driver was about to throw me off the bus, too. But he didn’t. The silence of the bus was overwhelming. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m a Londoner; we don’t like talking to strangers. But the bus driver thanked me. He said that he receives abuse like that every day, multiple times a day, but I was the first person who had stood up for him. And then he hugged me.

I could have put my life in danger; you hear about stabbings and violence on buses and trains every day, but I will not stand for it any longer. How have we forgotten that others, who may look different to us or use different languages, are also people trying to get on with their own lives? How has the hate seeped in without question?

If we allow hate to prevail in one part of the world, then the same hate will become so deeply ingrained in our own lives that we may never find our way out of it. I may have acted stupidly, and it could have been the worst mistake of my life, but how could I sit by and do nothing? I will no longer do nothing. I will always speak out. Call out racists when I see them. And I hope that the message of unity and friendship will one day be the collective voice of our great nation and the world.