Artificial Intelligence (AI) is becoming a powerful force in everyday life. But one of the most important, and least understood, areas where AI is growing fast is policing.
At BLAM UK, our AI Accountability Project is focused on ensuring that Black communities understand how these technologies work, how they are used, and what rights and protections we need as they become more embedded in policing and surveillance.
What Is AI? A Simple Explanation
AI describes computer systems that can perform tasks that normally require human intelligence. That includes things like:
recognising faces
spotting patterns in large amounts of data
predicting what might happen next
sorting people into categories
making recommendations or decisions
AI works by “learning” from data. But if that data reflects racial bias, inequality, or over-policing of certain communities, AI can learn those same patterns and repeat and reinforce them at scale.
How Is AI Being Used in Policing?
Across the UK, police forces increasingly use data-driven systems and algorithmic tools to support decision-making. While some of these tools are marketed as “smart”, “efficient”, or “objective”, in practice they often deepen existing inequalities.
Here are the main ways AI shows up in policing today:
1. Live Facial Recognition (LFR)
LFR scans people’s faces in real time and matches them against police watchlists. It has been used at:
Notting Hill Carnival (for the first time in 2024).
Stratford Westfield
Oxford Circus
Concerns include:
Racial bias: Black faces are more likely to be misidentified
Lack of consent: People are scanned without knowing
Over-policing of Black and migrant communities
2. Predictive Policing Tools
These tools make predictions about where crime is likely to happen or who might be involved. They use past policing data, which is already racially skewed.
If Black communities were over-policed in the past, predictive tools simply reinforce that pattern.
3. “Heat Maps” and Risk Scoring Systems
AI tools can score areas or individuals as “high risk”, which influences how police deploy officers.
Issues include:
Labelling young Black people as “high risk” based on postcode, school exclusions, or previous contact with police
Reinforcing negative stereotypes
Lack of transparency about how scores are calculated
4. Gang Databases & Social Media Monitoring
AI is increasingly used to monitor posts, photos, group chats, and online activity. It can flag people based on:
Music lyrics
Clothing
Friend networks
Location data
This can lead to young Black people being labelled as “gang-associated” without evidence of criminal behaviour.
5. Policing Children and Families Using Data
Policing doesn’t only affect adults. Data-driven systems are now used to:
predict which children might be “at risk”
monitor pupils in schools
track families through multi-agency databases
Children with special educational needs, neurodivergence, or those from marginalised communities are disproportionately affected.This is why BLAM is also developing a child-friendly AI survey to understand young people’s experiences and needs.
Why This Matters for Black Communities
Our research shows that AI policing often repeats the same patterns of racialised over-surveillance Black communities have faced for decades, but now with the speed and scale of technology.
Risks include:
wrongful arrests
discriminatory stop and search
increased profiling of Black children
reduced trust in public institutions
long-term impacts on opportunities, safety and wellbeing
AI is not neutral. It reflects society, including its inequalities. This is why community knowledge and accountability are essential.
What we, at BLAM UK, are doing
Our AI Accountability Community Survey is gathering insights from Black people across England about:
public experiences of policing
views on AI technologies
levels of trust and awareness
hopes and concerns for the future
Your voice will help shape policy recommendations, community education, and advocacy for safer, fairer systems.
AI is reshaping policing right now, whether we know it or not. Understanding it is the first step toward protecting our rights, challenging harmful systems, and ensuring technology serves communities rather than harms them.
At BLAM UK, we are committed to building community power, transparency, and accountability around AI in policing. If you’d like to stay updated or collaborate, follow our social media channels and keep an eye out for upcoming workshops.
The UK government’s recent Curriculum and Assessment Review claims it will build a “world-class curriculum for all,” yet from a Black radical perspective it’s clear there are gaping holes in this plan. The Review document pays lip service to “diversity” and “equality of opportunity,” but nowhere does it confront the reality of racism in education. This absence is not an oversight. It’s symptomatic of a system that would rather celebrate a shallow notion of diversity than commit to true anti-racist change. In the words of BLAM UK’s own social media post, the government “talks about ‘diversity’ but refuses to commit to anti-racism or any real decolonising of the curriculum.” The tone of this blog is unapologetically confrontational and rooted in Black radical thought: if the curriculum review won’t say anti-racism, we will – loudly and clearly.
No Anti-Racism, No Justice: The Curriculum Review’s Silent War on Black Education.
The Curriculum and Assessment Review reads like a masterclass in deflection. It waxes poetic about Britain’s “diversity” being a great strength and the need for “all young people [to be] represented”. It even acknowledges that students not seeing themselves in the curriculum, or encountering negative portrayals, is “disempowering and demotivating”. Yet, glaringly, the Review never once mentions the words “racism” or “anti-racism.” The government’s own report admits “the curriculum needs to reflect society, support equality of opportunity, and challenge discrimination” but it pointedly avoids naming the very discrimination at play: racism. By failing to explicitly address racial injustice, the Curriculum Review effectively wages a silent war on Black education. It upholds the status quo of Eurocentric content under the guise of neutrality.
This is a classic tactic of what Black radical educators call racial silence. The government’s plan pretends you can achieve “high standards for all” while sidestepping the structural racism that holds Black students back. It speaks of “broadening horizons” and “shared values”, but offers nothing to dismantle the whitewashed narratives in history books or the unconscious biases in classrooms. No anti-racism, no justice – it’s that simple. Ignoring race while talking about diversity is a political choice, one that protects the comfort of those in power at the expense of Black children’s education. The Curriculum Review’s polite silence on racism is not just an omission; it is an insult to Black pupils who every day experience the gaps between the curriculum’s rhetoric and the reality of their lives.
BLAM UK Strikes Back: Exposing Systemic Racism in Schools.
BLAM UK is not remaining silent. As a Black-led education and advocacy group, BLAM has been documenting the very racism the government refuses to name. Our recent report, “Eradicating Anti-Blackness in the UK Education System: Achieving Curriculum and Policy Reform Through Litigation,” uncovers the systemic biases embedded in British schools. The findings are damning, if unsurprising to Black students and parents. Black pupils are over-disciplined, underrepresented, and erased from what they are taught. The curriculum still centres whiteness, with Black history either ignored entirely or confined to trauma and oppression narratives (slavery, colonialism, civil rights) devoid of Black joy or excellence. British schools, as BLAM bluntly states, “continue to centre whiteness while punishing Black identity”. In the absence of anti-racist guidance, many teachers lack racial literacy – they have never been trained to understand how racism operates in the classroom. This leads to biased expectations, harsher discipline for Black children, and unchecked racist incidents. The government’s review panel heard from young people about feeling unrepresented and demotivated, yet offers only vagaries in response. Meanwhile, BLAM’s research provides concrete evidence that without intentional anti-racist measures, schools will continue to fail Black students.
BLAM UK is striking back through activism and even legal action. Our report is part of the first legal challenge against the UK government for the curriculum’s racism. We refuse to accept a curriculum that leaves Black contributions out and Black children behind. The message from BLAM and other Black radical educators is clear: representation isn’t a favor, it’s a right. Tinkering around the edges with token “diversity” is not enough. We demand a decolonised curriculum that fully integrates Black history and perspectives across all subjects; not just a perfunctory Black History Month chapter. We demand mandatory anti-racism and racial literacy training for teachers, so that ignorance is no longer an excuse. And we demand an end to policies that police Black children’s hair, language, and culture in the name of “behavior” or “standards”. BLAM’s stance is uncompromising: as long as the government’s plan has gaps where anti-racism should be, we will shine a light on every one of those gaps and push to fill them with justice.
Wales Sets the Standard: Anti-Racist Education in Action.
It doesn’t have to be this way. Just look to Wales, proof that a different, anti-racist approach to education is possible right now. In 2022, the Welsh Government launched a bold Anti-Racist Wales Action Plan, explicitly aiming for an “Anti-Racist Wales by 2030” with zero tolerance for racism in all its forms. These aren’t empty words. Wales put action behind them. As of the new Curriculum for Wales, Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic histories and experiences are a mandatory part of the curriculum. That’s right: in Wales, learning about the contributions and histories of people of colour is required, not optional. Alongside this, Wales rolled out free anti-racist training for all educators (the DARPL programme) to give teachers the “knowledge, skills, empathy, and confidence to celebrate and value diversity” and actively develop anti-racist practice. The Welsh Education Minister, Jeremy Miles, even urged educators to join this national effort to make schools “truly anti-racist”.
The contrast with England’s approach could not be more stark. While Welsh authorities fast-tracked resources to embed anti-racism into every school, the English Curriculum Review remains timid and evasive. Wales shows that when the political will is there, curricula can be transformed to include all students’ heritage and tackle racism head-on. They are literally doing what anti-racist campaigners have been demanding – from mandating diverse histories to training teachers – without the sky falling. So why is the UK Government (and by extension England’s education system) so far behind? The answer lies in political choice. England’s leaders choose to frame curriculum reform in comfortable terms of “diversity” without the discomfort of confronting racism. Wales chose the opposite: to face racism in education directly and systemically. The result? Welsh students of color will see themselves in lessons and books in a way English students still can’t count on. Welsh teachers are being equipped to recognize and challenge racism, whereas English teachers largely are not. If the Curriculum Review panel in Whitehall needs inspiration on how to fill the gap in their plan, they need only look across the Severn Bridge.
No Justice Without Anti-Racist Education: From Tokenism to Transformation.
The message at the heart of this Black radical breakdown is simple: there can be no educational justice without anti-racist education. Anything less is a betrayal of Black children and a distortion of what a “world-class curriculum” should be. The government’s current review, with its genteel avoidance of the R-word, amounts to tokenism. It’s an attempt to placate calls for inclusivity with pretty words about diversity, all while leaving the foundational power structures of the curriculum intact. But as Audre Lorde taught, “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” We cannot fix a curriculum built on colonial narratives and racial bias by sprinkling a few diverse examples here and there. Transformation is required.
BLAM UK and our allies are making it clear that we will accept nothing less than a transformational change. We’re talking about reparative curriculum reform – one that not only includes Black stories but critically examines Britain’s colonial history and legacy of anti-Blackness. We’re talking about empowering Black students in the classroom, not suspending them for wearing their natural hair. We’re talking about training teachers to understand racism as readily as they understand reading levels. Until the UK government’s plan addresses these demands head-on, its so-called commitment to “excellence for all” is a cruel joke. Black students deserve better than gaps in the curriculum and gaps in the plan – they deserve an education that tells the truth and prepares them to thrive in a society that still struggles with racism.
In conclusion, let this blog post serve as a warning and a rallying cry. We see the gaps. We feel their harm. And we will fight to fill them. If the official Curriculum Review won’t center anti-racism, then the communities and activists will do it themselves – but we shouldn’t have to. The government must be pushed from tokenism to transformation. Anything short of an anti-racist curriculum is a continuation of injustice. The call is out: No anti-racism, no justice. And we will not settle for anything less
Sickle cell disorder distorts red blood cells into a “sickle” shape, making them clump in vessels and cause painful crises. This inherited condition was first recognised in the UK in the 1950s, just as waves of post-colonial migrants arrived and the NHS expanded. In that era, many white Britons refused to acknowledge it as a “British” illness. The history of SCD care in Britain is deeply entwined with Empire and racism; a story of migrants bringing the disease to the health service, only to have their suffering dismissed.
Early NHS doctors and the media often mischaracterised sickle cell. Migrants from Africa and the Caribbean were expected to be staff, not patients, and some newspapers blamed them for “bringing” SCD to Britain. Racist myths spread; for example, MPs even raised the question of banning black blood donors over “risk” of sickle cell.
In the 1950s–60s the far-right press fuelled fear that SCD was infectious and tied to race. Black nurses were even scapegoated, accused of passing sickle cell to patients. Many people with SCD in the 1960s were too afraid to tell friends or family about their illness. Black nursing staff in the NHS remember feeling powerless and sidelined against rigid hierarchies. Training on genetic counselling and sickle cell simply did not exist. This structural racism meant patients often received no official support while white doctors and officials looked the other way.
For decades sickle cell sufferers in Britain were treated as second-class patients. Doctors saw it as a “niche” condition and told Black patients in agony that they were drug addicts. A modern report notes that many people with SCD are still denied pain relief in hospital; staff too often assume “as a Black person, they are simply drug seeking”. The 2021 No One’s Listening inquiry by MPs found “serious care failings” in A&E departments, a widespread lack of sickle cell knowledge, and frequent reports that negative attitudes toward sickle patients were underpinned by racism. Deep racial bias persists: SCD patients “report being treated with disrespect, not being believed or listened to” when in crisis. In short, structural racism and ignorance in the NHS have long compounded the physical suffering of sickle cell.
Key issues in sickle cell care today include:
Very limited treatments: only two NHS-approved drugs for SCD (versus five in the US).
Far too few specialist staff: about 0.5 specialist SCD nurses per 100 patients, compared to 2 per 100 for cystic fibrosis.
Major funding gaps: research funding for cystic fibrosis is roughly 2.5 times higher than for sickle cell.
A postcode lottery: emergency and specialist SCD services are concentrated in a few areas (mainly London/Manchester), so getting good care still “predominantly comes down to the prevalence of the disorder in your area”.
These disparities are symptoms of institutional neglect. Data from the NHS Race & Health Observatory (June 2025) confirms that people with sickle cell face stark inequities in care, research and treatment compared to other conditions like haemophilia or cystic fibrosis. For example, UK hospitalisations for pain crises are the highest in any country studied and many patients still prefer to manage pain at home after negative experiences. Sickle cell is now one of England’s fastest-growing genetic conditions, about 250 new cases a year, yet awareness and resources remain far behind need. Unless these systemic injustices are addressed, the same old patterns of neglect will continue.
Support has long come from within the Black community itself. Black pioneers laid the groundwork for today’s services.
Dr Neville Roy Clare (1946–2015), born in Jamaica but raised in London and he was diagnosed with sickle cell as a child, refused to stay silent about the disease.
In 1975 he founded OSCAR (Organisation for Sickle Cell Anaemia Research), the UK’s first sickle cell charity. OSCAR provided medical advice, education and community support where the NHS had none. His grassroots activism became a template for all later UK and European SCD support groups.
Likewise, Professor Dame Elizabeth Nneka Anionwu (born 1947) broke new ground.
In 1979 she became the UK’s first sickle-cell nurse specialist and co-founded the Brent Sickle Cell Centre. Anionwu later trained generations of nurses in culturally sensitive genetic counselling. Professor Dame Elizabeth Nneka Anionwu devoted her careers to better care and to challenging racism in medicine.
This legacy reminds us why Sickle Cell Awareness Month is so important. Each September offers a chance to honour these trailblazers and to educate the public and health service about sickle cell. Awareness campaigns spotlight the ongoing inequities: for example, by noting the lack of treatments and specialist staff mentioned above, and by calling out the “postcode lottery” in access to care.
During Sickle Cell Awareness Month, BLAM UK and allied organisations urge the NHS to act on these facts. The history is clear: Empire and institutional racism shaped sickle cell neglect. We know how to fix it! through proper funding, specialist training, and community-informed care.
Awareness month is a time for the Black British community to share knowledge, honour the work of Dr Neville, Dame Anionwu and others, and demand change. By centring Black voices and scholarship, we challenge old prejudices. In the words of the 2021 inquiry, we must ensure “no one’s listening” becomes “everyone’s responsibility” – so that people with sickle cell finally get the equal, compassionate care they deserve.
In Britain and around the world, people are rethinking the words we use to describe identity. Terms like “ethnic minority” or BAME (Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic) have long been used to label Black and brown communities. But today these terms are being challenged and a new phrase, “Global Majority,” is gaining ground.
Coined by Black British educator Rosemary Campbell-Stephens MBE, “Global Majority” flips the script on old labels. It’s about decolonising language and reclaiming power through words.
Origins of the Term Global Majority.
The term global majority was introduced to acknowledge a simple but powerful fact: collectively, people of African, Asian, Middle Eastern, Latin American, Indigenous and mixed heritage represent the vast majority of humanity. In fact, roughly 85% of the world’s population comes from these backgrounds.
This concept of Global Majority was brought to prominence by Rosemary Campbell-Stephens in the early 2000s. As part of a London education initiative, she began using “Global Majority” in 2003 to help reframe how we see leadership and diversity.
Campbell-Stephens wanted those who had been minoritised by society to realize their numerical and cultural strength. By adopting this term, she aimed to empower Black and brown communities with a mindset of belonging and confidence on a global scale.
Rejecting “Minority” and “BAME” Labels.
Why move away from terms like “minority” or BAME? For one, these old labels carry a negative weight. Being called an “ethnic minority” in a predominantly white country can make people feel less important or outside of the norm. It frames white people as the standard and everyone else as “other”. Using a blanket acronym like BAME has also proven unsatisfactory – it lumps diverse groups into one vague category.
Many individuals feel that BAME is not representative of their identity or experiences. It’s a catch-all that hides real differences. Crucially, such terminology hints at a white/non-white divide and keeps whiteness as the implied default standard
As Campbell-Stephens wrote, continuing to use acronyms like BAME “limits the capacity to have honest, authentic, non-coded conversations about race and racism”.
In other words, these labels can cloud the discussion and even create a “limiting mindset” for those who are labelled minorities. People can internalise the idea of being minor or marginal when in truth their communities are globally prevalent and vibrant.
Change is underway. In 2020, Rosemary Campbell-Stephens penned a think piece arguing that we must decolonise the language around race. She vowed to keep using the “demographically accurate and empowering” term Global Majority until everyone else caught up. And indeed, others have begun to catch up.
In November 2022, Westminster City Council in London officially announced it would stop using “BAME” and instead adopt “Global Majority” in its communications. This was a landmark move by a local government to be more inclusive, and it echoed the call that Campbell-Stephens made nearly two decades earlier. It shows that what starts as a radical idea can eventually become new common sense.
Decolonising Language, Changing Perspectives.
The push to use global majority is part of a broader effort to decolonise language. Decolonising language means actively challenging old terms imposed by colonial histories and replacing them with words that centre the perspective of Black and Indigenous peoples and other communities of colour. It recognises that language is deeply connected to power. When we change the words, we change the narrative. For people who have long been labelled minorities, adopting the term global majority can be a profoundly liberating shift.
Language and Power.
Words shape our reality. They influence who holds power and who feels visible or invisible. Referring to Black and brown communities as the global majority is an intentional act of empowerment.
It tells young people from these communities that they are inheritors of the world, not just a footnote in it. Rosemary Campbell-Stephens’s work illustrates the impact of this change. By reframing language in education and leadership, she has helped dispel the myth of minority inferiority and replace it with a narrative of majority strength. In the end, embracing the term global majority is about more than political correctness – it’s about power and pride.
It’s about recognising that the people once called “minorities” are in fact the majority of the globe, with rich histories and contributions. Decolonising language in this way helps to break down the old hierarchies that language upheld. It allows for more honest conversations about race, racism, and equity, and it invites everyone to see the world from a truly global perspective.
In summary, language is power.
The words we choose can either reinforce old colonial ideas or help dismantle them. By rejecting terms that diminish and embracing terms that empower, we change the story. The rise of “global majority” shows how a radical Black perspective on language can spark a wider change in mindset. When people start calling themselves (and each other) the global majority, they reclaim dignity and strength. They also send a message: we will define ourselves, rather than be defined by a legacy of colonisation. This shift in language – from minority to majority, from othered to empowered – is a small revolution of words that can lead to a bigger revolution in how we understand identity, power, and belonging. As Rosemary Campbell-Stephens and others have taught us, changing our language can indeed change how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Further Reading.
For those who want to explore more, here are some key resources:
Rosemary Campbell-Stephens – Educational Leadership and the Global Majority: Decolonising Narratives (2021): The foundational book on the concept, showing how Global Majority thinking can transform leadership and education.
Rosemary Campbell-Stephens – “Global Majority: Decolonising the language and reframing the conversation about Race” (2020): A powerful think piece on why we must reject terms like BAME.
Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o – Decolonising the Mind (1986): A classic on how language was used as a weapon of empire, and why reclaiming our words is key to decolonisation.
Gurminder Bhambra, Dalia Gebrial & Kerem Nişancıoğlu (eds.) – Decolonising the University (2018): Essays on transforming education in the heart of empire.
Bell hooks – Teaching to Transgress (1994): A radical vision of teaching as a practice of freedom, centring marginalised voices.
Kehinde Andrews – Back to Black (2018): A retelling of Black radicalism that speaks directly to our time.
Paul Gilroy – There Ain’t No Black in the Union Jack (1987): A groundbreaking study of race, nation and culture in Britain.
Reni Eddo-Lodge – Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race (2017): An accessible, essential book on the realities of racism in Britain.
Akala – Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire (2018): A sharp blend of history and lived experience that exposes how empire still shapes life in Britain today.
Every year, as summer peaks in August, Black communities around the world observe Black August, a month-long reflection on Black resistance, revolution, and the enduring fight for liberation. Unlike festive celebrations, Black August is solemn and purposeful: it began in the late 1970s among Black activists and prisoners in California, intended as a time to honour fallen freedom fighters and political prisoners and to educate communities about the long history of Black rebellion
The aim is to channel the spirit of past revolutionaries – to learn from their struggles and carry on their legacy. Black August reminds us that the story of Black liberation is not confined to one country or one era, but is truly global and continuous.
Why August?
August holds a special place in Black history. The saying goes that “the month of August bursts at the seams with histories of Black resistance”. Indeed, many pivotal Black uprisings and milestones occurred in August. To name a few: the Haitian Revolution ignited on 21 August 1791, when enslaved Africans in Haiti (then Saint-Domingue) revolted against French colonial rule. This uprising grew into a 13-year revolutionary war that abolished slavery and led to Haiti’s independence as the first Black republic in 1804. Haiti’s victory – the only successful slave revolt in modern history – sent shockwaves through the colonial world. It proved that enslaved Black people could defeat empires, inspiring hope and fear in equal measure.
Fast forward to August 1955 in the United States: the brutal racist murder of Emmett Till on August 28, 1955, galvanised the civil rights movement. August 1965 saw the Watts Rebellion in Los Angeles, a fiery protest against police brutality and injustice.
Even Black August itself was inspired by events in August, notably the prison rebellion led by George Jackson, a Black Panther, which culminated in his assassination on 21 August 1971. August, therefore, is a month of martyrs and milestones on the long road to freedom.
By dedicating this month to reflection, Black August connects the dots between these events, asserting that they form part of an “unbroken line of resistance and sacrifice” in Black history.
Global Black Resistance: Beyond Borders.
A core principle of Black August is to study Black resistance throughout the diaspora. This means looking beyond our local or national history and understanding that Black people’s struggle against oppression has been worldwide. For Black British communities, educators and Black youth in particular; this global perspective is powerful and affirming. It teaches that our ancestors did not endure brutality passively; time and again, they fought back and reshaped history.
For instance, consider the Baptist War of 1831 in Jamaica. Enslaved Africans, led by preacher Samuel Sharpe, organised a general strike and uprising demanding freedom. It became the largest slave rebellion in the British Caribbean, involving some 60,000 people.
Though the colonial forces brutally crushed the revolt and executed hundreds, the rebels achieved something monumental: their resistance accelerated the abolition of slavery. British authorities, shaken by the scale of the uprising, passed legislation to emancipate enslaved people across the Empire just a few years later, by 1838. In other words, enslaved Black Jamaicans were not passive beneficiaries of abolition – they were agents of their own liberation, forcing the issue through direct action. This is a crucial lesson for young people: our freedom was hard-won by our own people’s courage.
Travel to the African continent and you’ll find similar stories.
In Kenya, the 1950s Mau Mau rebellion saw forest fighters and villagers resist British colonialism in a quest to reclaim their land and rights. The British authorities responded with mass detention camps and violence, but could not extinguish the thirst for freedom. The uprising is widely seen as a key stepping stone to Kenya’s independence in 1963.
In Ethiopia, in 1896, the Battle of Adwa became a legendary example of Black resistance: Ethiopian forces, under Emperor Menelik II, defeated an invading Italian army, ensuring that Ethiopia remained independent. This victory was celebrated across Africa and the Black world. Finally, a non-European nation had halted the juggernaut of colonial conquest. It gave hope to anti-colonial movements everywhere.
In Somalia, between 1899 and 1920, Mohammed Abdullah Hassan’s Dervish movement waged one of the longest anti-colonial wars in African history. For 21 years, Hassan’s guerrilla fighters defied the British and Italians, establishing a Dervish state in the process, until the resistance was put down by force. Such episodes, often left out of mainstream narratives, show that Black resistance was not rare – it was constant.
Why Teaching This Matters
For Black youth, learning about global resistance is empowering. It counters the Eurocentric narrative that paints colonised or enslaved people as victims who waited to be “saved” by others. Instead, these stories centre Black heroes: men and women who organised secret meetings, risked their lives, and sometimes paid the ultimate price to challenge injustice.
This fosters a sense of pride and possibility. If Dessalines, Sharpe, Nanny of the Maroons, Dedan Kimathi, or the countless unnamed fighters could stand up in their time, what can we do in ours?
It also nurtures solidarity. Black people’s struggles, whether in America, the Caribbean, Africa, or Europe, have common threads. Recognising this shared history of resistance helps build a sense of global Black unity. A Black British teenager tracing the story of the Haitian Revolution, or a Black American student learning about the Mau Mau, may see reflections of their own community’s struggles and victories. It’s a reminder that we are part of a bigger family and a continuous fight.
Teaching global Black resistance injects a radical awareness into education. It encourages young people to question why these histories were marginalised in the first place.
Why did we hear so little about the Haitian Revolution in school?
Why do mainstream history books gloss over colonial crimes and the rebellions against them?
Such critical questioning is itself an act of resistance against a curriculum that often sanitises or omits Black agency.
In the UK, Black history is often reduced to a few figures or the narrative of abolition led by white saviours, so incorporating global Black resistance into education is a radical act of truth-telling. It tells young Black Brits that their heritage is not just one of oppression, but also of heroism and innovation in fighting oppression. It’s an heritage that links them to freedom fighters in Jamaica, revolutionaries in Haiti, anti-colonial warriors in Africa, and civil rights activists in America. This knowledge can inspire confidence and a deeper understanding of identity.
We remember Joy Gardner, a 40 year old Jamaican student in London, who was killed by police during a dawn deportation raid in July 1993. Officers handcuffed her, bound her with leather straps and gagged her with 13 ft of surgical tape until she collapsed. Joy suffered catastrophic brain damage from asphyxia and died in hospital four days later. An official inquest later ruled her death a “misadventure”, and no officer was ever held accountable.
Joy had come to Britain legally in 1987 and was studying media at London Guildhall University. By 1993 she was fighting to stay in the country, but immigration authorities decided to remove her. On 28 July 1993, immigration officials, backed by Metropolitan Police, raided Joy’s north London home. They forced her to the floor and, despite her pleas and five-year-old son in the room, they wrapped her head in tape and straps. She lost consciousness and fell into a coma. Four days later, doctors pronounced her dead from respiratory failure.
Soon after Joy’s death, community protests erupted under banners reading “Murdered by police – No justice, no peace.” But the criminal justice system failed her. In 1995, three officers were tried for manslaughter, and a judge even acquitted one, while a jury cleared the other two. The inquest concluded “misadventure”, treating her death as a tragic accident rather than the result of deliberate cruelty. In the end, no one was punished for Joy’s death.
Has anything changed since Joy’s death?
Officials’ own reports suggest the answer is “no.” In January 2024 the head of Britain’s police chiefs, Gavin Stephens, publicly acknowledged that policing still suffers “institutional racism”. He noted that decades of policies were made without Black people’s voices, yielding “disproportionate outcomes” for Black communities. Independent analyses underline this reality: Black people are just 3% of the UK population, yet they account for 8% of recorded deaths in police custody. One legal expert observed that since 1969 only one UK police officer has ever been convicted for a death in custody. In other words, police can kill with near-total impunity.
State violence is not “just an American problem.” Official data confirms deep bias. An Inquest report (Feb 2023) found Black people were seven times more likely to die after police restraint than whites.
Almost no officer is ever held to account: as one review bluntly notes, “no officer has ever been found to have acted in a racist or discriminatory way” in any fatal police-contact case. In short, British policing still operates within a white supremacist framework, from stop-and-search to use of force, despite repeated promises of reform.
The Hostile Environment and the Windrush Scandal.
State racism extends beyond policing into immigration policy. The Windrush scandal of the 2010s is a stark example. Thousands of British Caribbean people, many of them long-term legal residents, were suddenly classified as “illegal” by the Home Office. They lost jobs, homes and even freedom under Theresa May’s “hostile environment” rules. A leaked official report later admitted the ugly truth: for thirty years, UK immigration laws were explicitly designed to limit Black (and other non-white) immigration.
Every Act from 1962 to 1981 aimed to reduce the number of people with “black or brown skin” allowed into Britain. That is the racist DNA of today’s system – meaning Caribbean and African families have lived under a constant cloud of suspicion.
32 years after Joy Gardner’s death, Britain still has a racism problem.
Black lives in the UK continue to face the same indifference to injustice that Joy did. Until every officer is accountable, every death in custody is investigated, and every policy is free of racial bias, we will keep saying her name. Joy Gardner.
In this blog post, we will be looking at Black Makeup Artists in the UK who stand out and are well accomplished, on a national or international level. We love and support our talented service providers, and we will be showing appreciation for their dedication to the arts. A glimpse at looks that have caused quite the commotion, viral moments, and all levels of work, from editorial to runway, to bridal, to Instagram. Let the art speak for itself!
Black British makeup artists have long shaped beauty trends, drawing inspiration from pageant queens and global icons. From bold ‘90s lip liners to today’s inclusive foundation ranges, their artistry reflects cultural shifts. As Black women gained recognition in UK pageants, makeup evolved to celebrate diverse skin tones. This history highlights the resilience and creativity of Black beauty in Britain. Including:
Patricia Southall (Miss England 1978) – One of the first Black women to compete in Miss England.
Rachel Christie (Miss England 2009) – The first Black woman to win the title. She was an athlete and niece of Olympic sprinter Linford Christie.
Leila Lopes (Miss Universe 2011) – While representing Angola, she made waves in UK media for breaking Eurocentric beauty standards.
Dee-Ann Kentish-Rogers (Miss Universe Great Britain 2018) – The first Black woman to hold this title. She later became a politician in Anguilla
There will be a follow up segment released next month on viral influencers and black make-up brands who are at the heart of the UK makeup scene: putting UK-black girl-makeup on the map, and the OG YouTube girls perfecting the bright under-eye we all love today. UK-girls are known for masterfully beating their face, and it slaying… these are allegations that we are not trying to beat.
Painted by Esther
First on the list is Ngozi Edeme also known as Painted by Esther, known for her pink blush that can be spotted a mile away with a seamless blend. Her hands have touched many faces being featured with supermodels at award shows and on red carpets. She has crafted a way to bring out a range of colour while working on darker skintone. With 102k followers on instagram and big names under her belt Naomi Campbell, Viola Davis, Nara smith, and Gabrielle union. As someone whose dedication is seen in every stroke of her brush and every dab of her beauty blender.
Pat McGrath’s amazing ‘glass skin’ look, which went viral from the Maison Margiela 2024 artisanal show by John Galliano, where models were made to look like porcelain dolls.
In her 25-plus year career, Pat McGrath has been responsible for the makeup on models featured on over 500 magazine covers. Her work has been featured in the world’s most prestigious fashion magazines, including: American Vogue, British Vogue, French Vogue, W Magazine, Harper’s Bazaar, i-D magazine and so much more.
Renowned for her visionary work in high-fashion runway shows and editorial shoots, McGrath has consistently pushed the boundaries of makeup artistry.
Now, the Creative Director of cosmetics for LV (Louis Vuitton), her influence extends even further.
She also has a makeup line called Pat McGrath Labs, and the reviews don’t do it justice! With over 6 million followers: it’s privately held and is valued at $1 billion, a testament to her years of skill and dedication, McGrath’s emphasis on luminous skin and her fearless creativity continue to inspire aspiring MUAs. As she wisely states, ‘Trusting your instincts is essential,’ and ‘Staying true to your vision is key.’ She encourages us all to ’embrace every opportunity as a chance to learn and grow,’ reminding us that every step, every experience, contributes to our journey. And in a career where creativity is paramount, she urges us to ‘be fearless in your creativity.’ Her own journey stands as a powerful example, demonstrating that with dedication, passion, and a genuine love for the art, you too can achieve remarkable things
A makeup artist who knows a little about lifestyle, providing us with glimpses into her amazing outfits, red carpet looks, and serving more than her occupation. When it comes to balance and showing more than your brand online, Bernicia has a standalone, thriving social influencer career, as well as a talent that makes her the absolute best.
Bernicia Boateng, a London-based makeup artist with Ghanaian heritage, grew up in London. Her passion for makeup began at the age of 19, practicing her skills on friends. Her expertise and artistry guide her red carpet and editorial approach. She has celebrity clientele, including Michaela Coel, Jodie Turner-Smith, and Da’Vine Joy Randolph, demonstrating her exceptional talent, which has also graced the pages of prestigious publications like Vogue and The New York Times.
Notably, Boateng launched her own studio in 2018 focusing on helping people from London who are on lower income, she wants to ‘make beauty treatment just as accessible, and her influence has been recognised with a place on the Forbes 30 Under 30 Arts & Culture list in 2020, as well as being named one of London’s most powerful black fashion creatives in 2023.
She isn’t just a makeup artist; she’s a lifestyle influencer, showcasing her fashion sense and red carpet looks, thus blending beauty and fashion. She’s built a significant online presence, demonstrating a strong understanding of branding and social media engagement, which allows her to have a thriving social influencer career. Her work often merges beauty and fashion, showcasing her ability to create complex looks that go beyond just makeup application. She has experience creating looks for red carpet events, indicating a high level of skill and attention to detail. Bernicia has built her brand to include multiple areas of expertise, displaying a strong entrepreneurial spirit in the beauty and lifestyle industries.”
Known for her eyeshadow and skinny brows (some might say anorexically thin, but she totally pulls it off), her back-to-back viral moments and 105k followers on instagram, trust that you’ve definitely seen her work even if you didn’t realise it! Arya Starr’s viral headband look for Balenciaga was a MOMENT we shall treasure. Makeup by Chelsea’s recent viral work includes Doechii’s three back-to-back looks during Paris Fashion Week, crafted minutes apart. Bringing the art of makeup backstage and putting it on wheels… have we just discovered a new extreme sport? Well, if we have, trust Chelsea would win gold every time! She even tweeted that she did that viral smokey eye look in 10 minutes… in a moving car!! Making Waves, her most recent Declaration is a White eye shadow for the 2025 summer!!
Next up on this list is Beauty By Gbemi, a Nigerian, Black British content creator and beauty influencer who has been slaying the makeup game since 2015! From flawless beats to stunning hair transformations, Gbemi has built a powerhouse presence in the beauty space.
With an impressive 190,000+ YouTube subscribers, she’s not just a beauty enthusiast, she’s a go-to expert for hair lovers everywhere! Whether it’s the latest wig installs, styling tips, or must-have product reviews, Bemi keeps her audience hooked with her engaging content and expert advice. There is more to her story Gbemi stance is enhance your natural beauty its the key ethos of her Business: Youtube videos that are fan faves include Make up looks from 8 years ago that has reached 911k views
The UK based international MUA: She has Beat the faces of Jayda Wayda, Patricia Bright, Eva Apio, Dess Dior, Unclewaffles: Trust that the face cards never decline when Glam by Maurella is done with them.
Maurella keeps beauty effortless yet flawless! Unlike some artists who focus on over-the-top editorial looks, she specialises in soft glam, sultry smoky eyes, and red-carpet-ready full glam; perfect for both everyday wear and high-profile events. Whether it’s a bridal moment, a photoshoot, or just a night out, her artistry ensures a polished, camera-ready finish. Her services are designed for everyday people, making high-quality glam attainable and approachable. With a pricing range of £85-£105 for makeup services and in-depth lessons starting from £300-£500, she provides both affordability and expertise.
With 35K Instagram followers and a solid reputation, Maurella has cultivated a growing community that values her artistry. She stays drama-free, letting her work and client satisfaction speak for itself. In a recent campaign with Celsius featuring Declan Rice, she provided grooming services for him. For those looking for a trustworthy, talented, and accessible MUA, Glam by Maurella is one to watch!
Arikeartistry:
Artistry done right is her slogan, and we can clearly see why! With a focus on skin and the importance of skin care and prep first to achieve a better base, the work speaks for itself but let me add captions to further establish her true craftsmanship. She has a following of around 26 thousand people on Instagram and displays a range of looks on her page, her notable soft glam and full glam looks tailored to the shape of each person’s face, choosing product placement and shades that bring out the best looks for each client. Her services are designed for everyday people, making high-quality glam accessible.
Here is a break down of products used on the this face:
Recently featured in a British Vogue article titled ‘How to make your foundation last all day..’ . An Mua known best for her bridal looks. Bringing Grooms to tears as the bride takes that step down the aisle, is a flex not everyone can claim. It takes trust and openness on both sides to achieve the dream look. As part of the key people on the big day, you need to be confident and calm as you do your best work. Ranti stated that her favorite bridal look is this one highlighted below and we can see why :
Solange did her big one, her absolute best when adding her touch to these faces, multifaceted in her capabilities the potential when you sit in her chair, are endless one thing that is guaranteed a great lay and a Face card that won’t decline any time soon, AMEX has nothing on BeautybySolange. Based in South London, she offers Masterclasses and has worked with hosts, reality TV stars, influencers, and talented individuals as they attend awards shows. In front of many cameras whether on the stage or on your ‘FYP’ [For You Page] the beat by Beauty by Solange is awe-worthy and worth every like.
As we conclude this blog, I have to shout out the amazing MUAs who took a risk and started their business. There are so many steps involved, behind-the-scenes struggles, countless days of turning up after burnout, and a work-life balance that is at times non-existent. These amazing businesswomen wear many hats—from managing brand image, social booking systems, and emails, to monitoring DMs. The story behind each page featured in this blog, shows dedication and a love for their craft and the work they do!
Thank you for reading and check out BLAM UK on twitter and Instagram we would love to hear your thoughts.
BLAM UK is launching a new project: “Investigating Racial Bias in AI-Enhanced Surveillance Technologies and Predictive Policing Models in London.”
We’re looking for a radical, strategic, and justice-oriented Senior Team Leader to help us lead this important work.
About the Project
This 18-month research project examines how AI tools used by the police, like facial recognition and predictive algorithms, may be reinforcing existing racial bias and deepening surveillance and criminalisation of Black communities in London.
These technologies are often trained on biased data, and as a result, can automate discrimination—especially against young Black people. Our goal is to uncover these harms, build legal and policy responses, and empower communities with the knowledge to challenge racist technologies.
What You’ll Do
As the Senior Team Leader, you’ll guide the full delivery of the project: from managing research activities to co-developing legal and policy recommendations. You’ll lead a small team and work closely with external legal experts and community partners.
You’ll be responsible for: 🔹 Coordinating research activities (e.g., FOI requests, interviews, analysis) 🔹 Facilitating team meetings and external partnerships 🔹 Leading the development of public reports and advocacy materials 🔹 Supporting legal accountability and grassroots campaign work
Who We’re Looking For
We want someone with a clear abolitionist lens, who understands the history and current realities of racialised policing in the UK, and who’s passionate about dismantling oppressive systems through rigorous, community-informed research.
We’re especially interested in people with experience in racial justice research, community organising, or tech policies, and who understands how policing, surveillance, and data intersect to harm Black communities.
Job Details
📝 Job Type: Freelance 💸 Pay: £25,000/year (Part-Time: 30 hours/week) 🕓 Schedule: Flexible, remote work (Monday–Friday) 📆 Application Deadline: 30 July 2025 🚀 Expected Start Date: 4 August 2025
Jab Jab (from French diable, devil) is often misrepresented in media as something dark or demonic. In reality, Jab Jab is a proud Grenadian and Caribbean masquerade tradition rooted in resistance and celebration, not evil. It dates back to 1834, when slavery was abolished across the Caribbean. Freed people took to the streets at dawn on J’Ouvert, an early-morning carnival festival, covering themselves in black to celebrate liberation. Far from being servants of Satan, Jab Jabs were celebrating their freedom from devilish oppressors.
The name itself ,“Jab”, meaning devil was deliberately reclaimed by enslaved Africans who were derogatorily called “devils” by colonisers. By playing the devil, they mocked their masters. As Ian Charles of Jambalasee Grenada explains, Jab Jabs would take everything slave-owners said was “wrong” about them, their blackness, their wildness and “amplified it and took to the streets”. This is protest theatre, not devil worship. It’s the ultimate clapback: if you call me a devil, I’ll be the best devil you’ve ever seen, to flip your racist definition on its head.
Symbolism of JAB JAB:
Black Paint/Oil: Blackening the body has deep meaning. It connects participants to their African ancestry and the nightmarish torments of slavery.
On J’Ouvert, people coat themselves in oil, molasses, or paint (in London, washable paint replaces oil for safety). This was literally how freed slaves celebrated in Grenada. The black skin is not “witchcraft”; it’s a bold display of unity and Blackness, pride in the face of a world that once said their black bodies were “substandard”.
Horns: Shiny horns strapped to helmets aren’t satanic props, they’re a satirical puppet show. Enslaved people used Christian imagery against slave-owners, dressing up as the “devils” that plantation owners accused them of being.
By wearing horns, performers wear the devil’s outfit on purpose, an ancient form of rebellion. As one carnivaller put it, “We are ridiculing what the oppressors told us we are… you call me a devil? Well, I’ll show you a devil”
Chains and Props: You’ll often see chains, shackles, coffins, or even faux snakes. These aren’t tools of oppression here; they symbolize breaking out of oppression. A broken chain on the street is a powerful emblem of emancipation.
Colonial Tropes and Misunderstanding
Why then do some outsiders cry “evil!”? The answer lies in colonial history. European colonisers consistently demonised African and Caribbean traditions, branding them “primitive” or “satanic” to justify oppression. Practices like African Spirtuality or Vodou rituals were maligned as devil-worship by slave owners and missionaries.
Today, the same narrative resurfaces when well-meaning but uninformed critics misread J’Ouvert culture. Some social media users have even labeled Jab Jabs as “witchcraft” or “satanic” language lifted straight from the colonial handbook.
This is racist tropes, repackaged.
At Notting Hill Carnival (a Black British-Caribbean institution co-founded by Windrush pioneers), every year the same misunderstandings resurface. News coverage often highlights a few fearsome Jab costumed revelers as “eerie” or “devilish”, echoing the colonial script. But as Independent columnist Nadine White notes, this kind of sensationalism is exactly what those colonial masters wanted: to scare and discredit Black joy.
Reclaiming the Narrative
It’s more important than ever to reclaim Jab Jab from these tropes. Accusations of “evil” only erase the truth of this culture. Instead of gossiping that it’s satanic, we should highlight that Jab Jabs are honouring the ancestors’ resistance and creativity. As Grenada’s prime minister said, their carnival “is a collective expression of our creativity,” a release valve from centuries of grind and pain. In Britain, acknowledging the real history of Jab Jabs can help us appreciate that Notting Hill Carnival itself sprang from a legacy of racial struggle and resilience.
Cultural heritage isn’t optional or negotiable; it’s a living lineage. We reclaim Jab Jab by celebrating it openly, teaching its story, and calling out the trolls. The next time someone cries “devil!”, we can proudly say: “Yes…the devil masks, and we wear them to honor our history of triumph over slavery.” That’s how we safeguard an authentically African-Caribbean tradition for future generations, free from misunderstanding and prejudice.
Pearl Alcock (1934–2006) was a Jamaican-born Black British artist, businesswoman, and community builder. For much of the 1970s and ’80s she ran a secret club in Brixton that became legendary , Pearl’s Shebeen, the only gay bar in the area. This underground space welcomed Black gay and bisexual patrons from across London, giving them a rare sense of safety and joy. As a proud bisexual woman, Pearl used her entrepreneurial spirit to cultivate community, “enriching the lives of so many in the queer community in Brixton”. Today, BLAM UK commemorates her during Pride Month, celebrating a life that defied racism and homophobia through creativity and care.
From Jamaica to Brixton.
Pearlina Smith was born in Kingston, Jamaica in 1934. She left Jamaica at 25 (leaving an unhappy marriage behind) with only £5 and a determination to remake her life
Like many of the Windrush generation, she arrived in Britain to face entrenched racism. Her early years in the UK were tough: she worked as a maid and in factories in Leeds, saving every penny.
By 1970 she had accumulated £1,000 and moved to London, where she opened a women’s dress boutique at 103 Railton Road in Brixton. Brixton was already a vibrant hub for Caribbean immigrants (and an emerging centre for gay rights activism), and Pearl’s arrival would soon add a new chapter to its story.
Pearl’s Shebeen: A Hidden Safe Haven.
In the mid-1970s, Pearl did something daring. She converted the basement of her Brixton dress shop into an illicit club, a shebeen called Pearl’s. For a small cover charge, patrons bought half-pints of beer and could “bring their own records”. The result was a laid-back party atmosphere, with no fights and lots of dancing. Crucially, this was a space built by a Black bisexual woman for Black queer people. It quickly became the only gay venue in Brixton and attracted mostly Black gay men from the Caribbean.
Inside Pearl’s basement, people could relax “without the cloud of cis white judgement”. Even the drinks were cheap and the music warm. Pearl herself tended bar on many nights, playing records and talking with friends. For those who knew it, Pearl’s Shebeen was a sanctuary, a place free from the racism and homophobia that lurked in most other British pubs and clubs. By refusing to serve alcohol beyond the community’s needs (and even banning fights), Pearl created an environment where Black LGBTQ+ Londoners could be themselves.
On the same block, racism was overt: the nearby George pub famously barred Black people and gay people from entering. That pub was actually burned down in the 1981 Brixton uprisings, as Black residents protested police injustice. But in Pearl’s bar there were no such exclusions; only solidarity. As one patron remembered, Pearl’s Shebeen was unique in attracting people to feel “comfortable in a queer space without the racism” found elsewhere.
Pearl ran her shebeen through much of the 1970s, but the tide was turning by decade’s end. Margaret Thatcher’s 1979 election marked a conservative shift, and local authorities began cracking down on unlicensed bars. Fearing police raids, Pearl made the hard decision to stop selling alcohol in 1980. She shut down the shebeen entirely by 1981, closing the doors to protect her patrons from harassment.
Refusing to abandon her community, Pearl moved her enterprise next door to 105 Railton Road and opened a modest café. This new café was bare-bones, one friend recalled it run “by candlelight” when bills weren’t paid, but it retained the spirit of Pearl’s hospitality. It became another refuge for local residents, mostly of West Indian heritage, to gather and talk.
However, the early 1980s were difficult for Brixton. The Brixton riots of 1981, sparked by police brutality, led to unrest on Railton Road itself. Many businesses saw customers disappear. Pearl’s boutique and café eventually closed (the café wound down by 1985). By then Pearl was facing personal hardship, but the community she built did not vanish.
Throughout these trials, Pearl acted as a quiet leader. Although not a conventional activist with speeches, she “quietly collaborated with local organisations to advocate for LGBTQ+ rights”. Her experiences of racism, sexism, and homophobia- As a Black Jamaican immigrant and bisexual woman – informed everything she did. In running safe spaces and simply caring for people, Pearl was a grassroots activist. Her bars and café weren’t just businesses; they were unspoken protest against exclusion.
Outsider Art and Creativity
After her café closed, Pearl turned inward and discovered another talent: art. She started making drawings to thank friends who had supported her. Pearl would doodle on any scrap, receipt paper from the café, birthday cards, even cardboard and give the results to people. When her friends loved these little drawings, they encouraged her to keep going. Soon she was selling handmade bookmarks for £1, and folks pitched in money to buy her paints and canvases.
Pearl Alcock was entirely self-taught, a true outsider artist. Her style quickly became distinctive: bold, abstract compositions full of colour and energy. Many canvases feature swirling lines, cosmic shapes, and figures that seem to dance. Pearl explained her process in one interview: “When I move my hands like this… it means I am smiling, and I’m singing… I take a little bit and I put it there”. Critics later noted that her work felt “authentic, spiritual and representative of her Caribbean roots”, as if each painting carried the rhythm of Jamaica within it.
Over the late 1980s and 1990s, Pearl’s artwork attracted attention in niche art circles. Local galleries in London’s scene began to exhibit her pieces (such as the 198 Gallery in Brixton, the Almeida Theatre and the Bloomsbury Theatre). In 1990 her art was chosen for the annual London Fire Brigade calendar. Yet mainstream recognition was slow: it wasn’t until 2005 that Tate Britain included her in a survey of Outsider Art. By then Pearl was 71 and still painting every day in her tiny flat. Her canvases with dreamlike scenes and joyous colour finally reached new audiences. She later recalled that art allowed her to express all she couldn’t in words: “Everything I do has to come from my head… These things just come to me.”
Fighting Marginalisation.
Pearl Alcock’s life shines a light on how intersectional identities shaped British LGBTQ+ history. As a Black bisexual woman, she navigated multiple layers of prejudice.
During her lifetime, Black queer people were largely invisible in public life. Polls of the era show that many institutions simply ignored lesbian and gay issues in Black communities, and likewise racial justice groups often sidelined queer concerns. Pearl knew these challenges firsthand: mainstream gay bars and even political groups could exclude people who looked like her.
Instead of focusing on these injustices overtly, Pearl’s response was to create community from below. The historian of Black queer Britain Jason Okundaye argues that stories like Pearl’s rarely appear in textbooks; they survive through “history from below”, in memories and family photos. Pearl’s own statement to friends, to be “authentic” and carry on painting even with nothing, became a quiet manifesto of defiance. By simply running her bar and making art on her own terms, she embodied an activism rooted in self-expression and solidarity.
Her legacy also intersects with broader political struggles. The very existence of her shebeen was a pushback against the police violence and social exclusion Black people faced. When Thatcher came to power and Section 28 later threatened LGBTQ+ and Black organising, people like Pearl had already been building safe networks for years. Her story connects to a larger tapestry of Black British queer activists, from Pride march organisers like Ted Brown to artists like Ajamu X, who all helped make room for Black gay and lesbian voices in Britain’s history.
Legacy and Recognition.
Pearl Alcock passed away in London on 7 May 2006 at age 72. Her funeral drew many friends and locals, a final testament to how beloved she was. In the years since, there has been a renewed effort to honor her contributions.
In 2019 Manchester’s Whitworth Gallery mounted the largest ever solo exhibition of Pearl’s art. Meanwhile writers and archives have begun telling the story of her legendary shebeen:
for example, Bernardine Evaristo immortalized “Pearl’s shebeen in Brixton” in her Booker-winning novel Girl, Woman, Other.
For Black LGBTQ+ Britons, she represents an early generation of pioneers who built their own spaces when society had none. By remembering Pearl Alcock this Pride Month, we honour not only her art but also all those who found hope, joy and belonging in the community she created.
BLAM UK CIC 