cwfquibbler

[cwfquibbler]

INNOCENT UNTIL FOUND GUILTY, EQUALITY AND EQUALS RIGHT FOR ALL

tw: racism, segregation

As a child, I believed the world was a good place. I had loving parents and a home. I wanted for nothing.

With my mother having a job in the Minister of Magic’s office, she dealt with Muggles often and never showed any contempt for them – she didn’t see them as any less than her, a Pure-Blood.

This allowed me to pick up on the goings on of the Muggle world as she often brought her work home with her and perused the papers, keeping up with the other side. Unbeknownst to her, I would steal pictures, articles, every now and then for my own interest. Now my father? I’m sure you can guess – his world also centered around Muggles with his position at the Ministry in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. From this, he gave a me a gift that is most dear to my heart: a record player and a Frank Sinatra album. For those who don’t know, he’s known for a dazzling array of songs in the 1940’s and 1950’s. Simply magical.

As I grew older, it became clear that something wasn’t right in the Muggle world. Walking the streets with mum, a myriad of signs stared me in the face – they wanted to bring attention to this. Signs that read, “White Ladies Only, Coloured Waiting Room, The Best Service for Whites Only, Separate drinking fountains.”

None of this made sense to me. With a white father and a black mother, the gazes they received were of confusion, unfriendliness. As a biracial child, I quickly realized these were also aimed at me. Why would the color of my skin matter? I was a person just like everybody else.

---

It was 1958. I was nine years old, out in London with mum and I held her hand tightly, traversing the city. I remember her telling me that she had seen a review for a Muggle restaurant in a paper and she wanted to try their braised lamb. I was excited the entire day and loved the time I spent with my parents. Unfortunately, my dad wasn’t along. As we approached the restaurant, preparing to open the door, a white man stepped outside and closed the door behind him. ‘You won’t be allowed in here today. I suggest you leave.’ I furrowed my eyebrows, confused and looked up towards mum. His tone was one of disgust, not welcoming. After my mother demanded to know why, he pointed to the sign that neither of us had caught attention of.

‘Whites Only.’

Without another word, he crossed the threshold back into the restaurant. I remember gazing through the window, noting one thing. There was no one who looked like me or my mother. My dad would have been the only one who could have had lunch.

We had lunch at home that day and as I ate my white bean soup, I stared out of the window and wondered why we just could not eat there with everyone else.

---

As I called Hogwarts my home for the first time, it didn’t take long for my brain to register the similarities between our world and our Muggle counterpart. Pure-Bloods, Half-Bloods, Muggle-Borns. Different statuses. It was easy to realize that, even as young children, it was engrained deeply into some of our heads that blood status meant you mattered less. That you didn’t matter at all.

And further down the road, I took notice that this extended to magical creatures. Vampires, trolls, giants, banshees, werewolves.

Why am I telling you all this? Since the declaration that Silas Crump, a werewolf, murdered Booker Bagnold, the son of Millicent Bagnold, our Minister of Magic. The evident hate of werewolves has grown stronger, louder. There are those who are calling for the abolishment of the entire species. Those who want to see all werewolves dead and won’t stop until it is done.

How can we as a society sit and watch this happen without doing something? What does that make us, as we watch them railroad Crump and all the others? It makes us complacent.

There are abhorrent people everywhere. There are abhorrent sorcerers. There are abhorrent vampires, abhorrent Pure-Bloods, abhorrent Half-Bloods, abhorrent Muggle-Borns. However, that doesn’t mean that as a whole, they don’t deserve respect or to live.

Crump hasn’t been convicted. He’s presumed innocent until he’s found guilty.

The hate crimes are rising. Do people notice? Or are they just too scared to intervene for their own safety? Do they care?

To show my solidarity to those who are being attacked for who they are, there will be a protest held in Carkitt Market on 16th April 1983

This will be a safe space to showcase your support for those experiencing persecution.

There will be signs premade, but if you’d prefer, you’re welcome to bring your own.

I look forward to seeing you as we take a step in the right direction.

CHARITY BURBAGE, EDITOR, POLITICS PAGE ( @charityxburbagex )