curated by Prospera Tedam
_{University College Dublin}

Title: Award BJSW
Code: BH01

I am a dedicated lecturer, with passion for imparting knowledge to students. I know that I am a good teacher because of the extra work I put in and the strong positive response from some students. There are however some students whom I can only describe as racist because of the vitriol and personal nature of their criticism of my practice. A few white female students wrote in some course evaluations that I was not a good teacher and most likely had not earned my doctorate degree, so, all my other degrees should be questioned, especially because I had studied in Nigeria. In one evaluation, following a session on feminism, a white female student called me a ‘man-hating African bitch’ – I think she really wanted to say the ‘n’ word.

In another instance, which is a confidential matter, a white female student reported me to the regulator (Social Work England). She said I was a incompetent lecturer because I had refused her Personal Tutor to provide her a letter of support to the GP for hormone replacement therapy for menopause. I had no knowledge whatsoever that she had such a problem and it was a complete shock to hear of the matter from the regulator. The regulator to my mind was also complicit in that racist referral because they should have seen it for what it was, especially because, unbeknownst to me, the university had previously received, explored and dismissed the allegations against me, and the regulator already knew that before they accepted the referral and put me through a fitness to practise investigation. This student had also alleged that I was not qualified to be a social work lecturer and queried my doctorate. It was apparent that some white female students did not enjoy having a Black African woman in a position of authority over them, and were desperate to undermine my knowledge and achievements. When I was nominated for the above award, I cried because it was a rebuke to the racist white women who have made me consider quitting academia. I saw the award as an antidote to the racism I had experienced. No longer can racists get to me, when others who are experts in the field can see my worth. I gave a public lecture as part of the award and this was posted on YouTube. I also loved the fact that people commented on my excellent teaching skills regarding that lecture. Not only can I write well, I am good at research and teaching. To the world, and hopefully to past and future racist students, I am an excellent academic.

Title: Bangle (Kara)
Code: BH02

This object is called a Kara. It is a steel bangle that is worn by Sikhs. This object represents anti-racism because Sikhs believe in equity and equality and having reverence for god. Being a Sikh is represented by the five ‘K’s, which are objects worn by Sikhs, of which the Kara is one. Wearing the Kara symbolises my belief in Sikhism and in turn my belief in equality and in turn the struggle for anti-racism. The Kara is a round bangle which in itself represents eternity and the on-going commitment to equality.

Racists have seen me wearing the Kara and have used to be racist towards me and to disrespect my religion, ethnicity and culture because the Kara is so visible, like the colour of my brown skin. However, I wear it visibly with pride and love as it represents my parents heritage from the Punjab in India, it represents my parents struggles and victories in life, it represents my faith, my struggle for anti-racism and equity. I am proud of who I am, my background and the Kara is a visible representation of that defiance.

Title: Basket
Code: BH03

The object is an African basket given to me by my mum. When I look at it I am reminded of the racism that she encountered when first arriving in the UK from West Africa and it is also a sense of strength and pride in what she achieved as a teacher in spite of the hurdles that she experienced and the overt racism she encountered in 70s and 80s Britain.

Title : Building
Code: BH04

For me, this building – the Baggot Street Hospital in Dublin, Ireland – represents a pivotal period for me in my anti-racism journey. As a newly qualified social worker I worked there on Ireland’s team for separated children seeking asylum.

As I look back to that period from where I now stand, I feel like I knew nothing about race or racism. I hadn’t learnt about it at home, in school or in university and my recollection is that race, racism and anti-racism were not spoken about during the work I did there, a fact that seems astonishing now. Yet, while those words weren’t used, I nonetheless learnt a huge amount there, knowledge and experiences that were to become formative in my development as a person, and as an anti-racist social worker and researcher.

Primarily, I learnt from the amazing children and young people whom I met. Young people who were witty, bright, ambitious, grateful and ungrateful, sad and happy, excited, annoying, determined, lonely, fun, vulnerable, resilient, traumatized, strong, independent and dependent. They also happened to be Black young people, from many different African countries. Through the privilege of working with them, through the very limited service we provided, in the context of totally inadequate care provision (the children and young people were living in hostels without care staff), I learnt about their cultures and countries. I became more aware of our shared humanity, regardless of colour. I certainly tried to be ‘culturally competent’ but probably often wasn’t. I never considered myself to be racist in my work, but it’s likely I sometimes was. For certain, the system under which we worked was racist: The care provided to these children and young people was far inferior to the care provided to white Irish young people in the care of the state. We knew that, and tried to fight it, but I probably didn’t fight it enough.

But that experience and the many children I met at Baggot Street Hospital has stayed with me and it shapes my commitment to anti-racism now. Getting to know those children and young people gave me a passion to learn more about working in a culturally conscious way. From there, I started to read more and learn more, and focus more on race, racism and anti-racist social work practice.

In recent times, when Ireland has been struggling to accommodate those seeking protection, particularly young men, the Baggot Street Hospital – which now lies empty – has often been suggested as a location where asylum seekers could be accommodated. That has not happened. Instead, many asylum seekers, probably including some separated children whose ages have been disputed, live in tents on the streets near-by. Sadly, anti-refugee sentiment has grown and systems are still racist. This highlights more than ever the continuous need for anti-racist learning and actions within social work and beyond.

Title: Burnt Toast
Code: BH05

I chose a piece of burnt toast, both to represent a visual image of racism but also to symbolise the damage and long-term consequences of racism.

This is what the image represents for me in relation to racism:

1. Burnt toast is difficult to eat, but some people may be left with little choice, for a multitude of reasons. Likewise, some people must live with enduring impact and trauma of racism. It serves as a reminder of the negative impact racism has on individuals and society, leaving a bitter taste and impacting the quality of life for those affected.

2.The differences between the burnt and unburnt areas on a piece of toast can also represent the disparities and inequalities / inequities that exist between different racial groups in society.

3.The damage is irreversible. Once toast is burnt, it cannot be unburnt! So whilst the intention may not have been to burn the toast, the impact means that it is burnt.

4. Although I have not felt the pain from a fire, I have of racism, and it hurts. People struggle to come back from fire – being burnt and when they do the effects are long-lasting.

5. It can also represent missed potential preventing communities from thriving and reaching their full potential. An unburnt toast represents nourishment, while burnt toast, which in some instances may be thrown away, reflects how people who face racism can be treated, or how they feel being othered and therefore society misses out on their potential.

Title : Silhouettes
Code: BH06

I selected a common type of clip art I increasingly use to depict different concepts. I converted to clip art some years ago when I noticed that public domain pictures too frequently used Caucasians as their role models or who they seemed believe represented particular concepts. Clipart such as what is attached provides an excellent medium to depict diversity and inclusion.

Title : White doors
Code: BH07

The White Doors That Hinder My Path!

As I grew up, I was told by adults, teachers, etc.,

“That behind every door is an opportunity waiting, or every door is a door of opportunity…open it, walk through it. Your destiny awaits!

Guided by my faith, I was led to many doors. Stepping through was my choice—a free-will kind of belief. Through the door waits a better career, promotion, or something new, different, better—my destiny!

However, upon reflection, I now see they are locked doors for people like me, regardless of what I hope for. It is guided and patrolled by White norms, and those norms are what I must live up to.

The doors had gatekeepers who obstructed my access. Sometimes, one has been slightly ajar, and I peeped through to see what awaited. I thought, ‘No way, I’m not ready for that’. Others, I fear, will never open for me. Not just me but people like me – Black people with Black consciousness, Black pride, and Black hope!

I went through a few of those doors. However, it felt like a tight noose around my neck, attempting to constrain my ability to fully embrace my Blackness and stay through the door as me. It is a constant struggle, as we (Black people) are just people. Yet, the difference of Blackness is always seen at the door, before our ability and talents.

The White gaze is like a spotlight that enjoys my energy and takes advantage of my knowledge, skills and creativity, but I must be careful not to show my Blackness too much. Try to assimilate and ‘be like us’ – to fit into the Whiteness, as if my Blackness is something I can shed at the door, a taboo that I must leave outside?

It is frustrating to be trapped in stereotypes that leak out occasionally…

• No, I’m not aggressive. I’m passionate about this topic.

• No, I’m not so and so from that team – we don’t all look the same!

• No, it is not normal for Black parents to beat our children. Is it normal for White parents?

• No, you can’t touch my hair. I don’t like it, and I don’t know you or where your hand has been and

• No, some, (but not me 😊), can’t dance!

The list could go on. I’m exhausted.

These racist ideologies are carried to the workplace. Given the predominance of White women in social work, whenever I confront these issues, your White fragility often hinders my efforts to educate. I become concerned when I pull you up on something you have said that is racist. That White gaze (as I know that you can use tears and cry), you did not mean it that way; it will be my fault, and I am being aggressive!

There exists a White hope that I will conform to the norms and be more like them than myself. However, I fight to be genuinely accepted for who I am, just as I accept them. I see their ability and creativity and understand that they are individuals with good, bad, and indifferent, which coexist and occupy the same space, making them complete. Why can’t they see that about me, about Black people?

There are some White people around me, White people who make me see things differently and make it easier to navigate those doors. Some actively seek to unlock them, inviting us in and working to clear the path. I feel fortunate to have these allies, but once through the door, the White gaze constantly reminds me that I must perform and be more than flexible and, at times, double-jointed.

These white doors should be dismantled, becoming doors of opportunity for everyone. Don’t repaint or disguise them; instead, they should be entirely removed, allowing us to walk through as our authentic selves.

Yet, once through the door, we face the glass ceiling!

Title : Brown Eyes
Code: BH08

Many years ago, I participated in a Conference workshop that had a profound and lasting impact on me. As we approached the door to the room where the workshop was held, we were prevented from entering the room until we had been allocated a part of the room in which we must sit. We saw people ahead of us being pointed in one direction or another and we had no idea how the allocation was being judged.

Once the workshop began, the facilitators presented a number of questions and invited us to respond. I found that when I responded the facilitators were warm and affirming, listened to what I had to say and engaged with me. This was also true when those around me responded. It made us feel very valued and rather important. However, when those in the other part of the workshop room tried to join in, they were ignored or given cursory, cold replies, sometime they were even belittled. It was a really uncomfortable experience.

How were these two different groups determined? Well, one group (the one I joined) was brown-eyed and the other was blue-eyed. Most of my group were people of colour and most of the other group were white. It was doubly interesting and complex for me, as a white person in the ‘brown group’.

The facilitators helped us all to debrief from this experience and I won’t share the details of this, but just to say that what everyone shared in common was how completely arbitrary the treatment (whether warm or cold) was experienced and – for the blue-eyed group who often take their relative privilege for granted – how belittling and demoralising it was. I hadn’t heard the term micro-aggression at that point, but now I know from experience what that meant, as well as the awfulness of being judged not for who you are but what you are deemed as looking like.

When I look in the mirror and see my eyes, I remember that moment of judgement many years ago, and the learning that I took from it.

Title: Union Jack
Code: BH09

My object is in fact the Union Jack as held by the National Front party in London. Encountering the national front as a teenager was my first covert experience of racism. Their chant, ‘there ain’t no black in the union jack’ still rings in my ears. The feeling of hostility, anger and hate are ever present for me. I have learned that as I have moved away from my council estate in South London and moved on into Higher Education, that the same hostility, anger and hate exists, but it is shrouded in something very different. So, although no one would display these images now, they are still present for me.

Title : Person on Beach
Code: BH10

Isolation. Portrayed by all the footprints around but the people are invisible. They are unknown to me, and I to them.

Acknowledgements

The organisation of this project was made possible with the support of the UCD College of Social Sciences and Law (Equality, Diversity and Inclusion/ Widening Participation); UCD University for All; UCD Students’ Union; UCD Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Unit; and the UCD Observatory of Masculinities.

©Tedam, Prospera 2026. This publication is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.