A ‘white, British female’, I fall into the ‘dominant majority’ in this country – the British National Party ideal. But that genre of national identity seems to me a tangled web of prejudice, a straight jacket to be removed rather than an institution to be proud of. Why would anyone favour racial hatred over equality to maintain something both gross and repressive?
Let’s quickly catch up on this issue of “Britishness”. The BNP has been forced to renounce its ‘no Black or Asian’ members rules. But joining members still have to sign an agreement stating that they will oppose the promotion of any form of “integration or assimilation” that impacts on the “indigenous British”.
The party is not changing. It is adapting because it has to, for “legal reasons”, as Nick Griffin told the BBC. Restricting BNP policies as well as potentially banning its members from professions like teaching could spell the beginning of the end for the party.
The BNP is set on keeping hold of British identity – nationalism, pride and the adoration of British culture. What, though, is there to ‘adore’?
The idea of Britishness isn’t solid anyway. A recent BBC documentary called ‘Women, Weddings, War and Me’ followed Nel, a 21-year-old British-raised graduate whose parents fled violence in Afghanistan to settle in the UK when she was 6.
In the documentary, Nel returned to Afghanistan to try to understand her native culture. She said she “felt cut off from her roots”, and asked “where the hell do I belong?!” When she got to her ‘own’ county, though, she was shocked by the sexism in the male dominated society, frustrated by the “stupid men” who gripped the country.
Afterwards, she said the felt Britain was “safe”, but that she was “proud” to say she was from Afghanistan.
Watching the programme, and seeing the journey of a young woman similar to me in many ways made me wonder whether people need to have some feeling of belonging, some notion of where they come from.
Until now, I’ve renounced my relationship with British identity and its stereotypical dogged dedication to politeness, tea and crumpets. But Nel’s search for identity made me wonder if I was missing something too.
Why don’t I feel a real attachment to my country? When I look in the mirror I see a member of a family, of various social groups, of my university, but not of my country.
In one sense I feel there’s little to be proud of. Binge drinking, junk food eating, STI seeking are all the news seems to report on. But then again, there are ‘The Canterbury Tales’, Shakespeare, Darwin, Newton…and how about cottage pie, the ‘English Breakfast’, the tin can and penicillin: all very British.
There must be a way to hold on to national identity without descending into racist extremism: a celebration of one’s own and of others.
For those with multinational roots, like Nel, a sense of national identity could well mean gaining many layers of culture and history, rather than identifying with just one place.
And for those rooted solely in Britain, pride in nation, and love for other cultures open the borders to an array of cultures and all the sounds, tastes and arts that go with them. It means that our ‘Britishness’ is always changing, widening, and that’s a good thing.
Michelle Arthurs
