What’s your earliest memory of your time at WHS?
I tried to change my name when I got into WHS, because I thought this was a new start where I could have a name that people would find easy to pronounce, and in hindsight I feel quite sad about that. I think it shows how conscious I was of my ‘otherness’ and feeling racialised. I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it at that age, but I just wanted to assimilate and not be different. My parents, to their credit, pushed back and refused to change my name, but I did come to WHS telling everyone my name was Caroline. Because it wasn’t in the register, they reverted to my real name. I’m very thankful that it didn’t last now. If I could talk to my younger self I’d talk to her about why she felt pressured to conform or change to fit the environment.
What moment of your time at WHS has stuck with you the most?
I was at Wimbledon High from age seven to eighteen, which is eleven years, so it’s quite difficult to isolate a single moment; I mean, you play out your childhood, your adolescence, your frustrations, your dreams, and you go through so many cycles and changes in that time with your friendship groups. It’s funny, actually, it’s probably not the thing I would’ve said but my daughter was asking me about if I’d ever played the lead role in a play, and I told her that I played the lead role in the Latin play. That was when Wimbledon High won the national Latin play competition every year. I played Jupiter, and I still remember my lines: ‘ego sum Iuppiter, rex omni aurae!’ That, I guess, is quite memorable, and I remember wearing this white sheet as a toga and I had braids at the time, so I must’ve been quite an interesting Jupiter. That has stuck with me a lot.
What did you study at A level?
Latin, German, and English
Where did you go to study after school and what did you study and why?
I went to Oxford and studied PPE. The reason was that I was really struggling to narrow down my degree choice, so I wasn’t ready to choose a single subject. I’m quite critical of the system; I think many people at the age of sixteen, when you’re starting to really think about it, are ready to narrow their field of study so dramatically, and I definitely wasn’t. Oxford PPE seemed like a great choice given my interests, and I applied for politics and economics or politics and sociology at other universities. PPE really suited me because of the breadth. In your preliminary year you do all three, and then you can really specialise, and I ended up specialising in the politics of decolonisation and African politics. I wrote a thesis on the role of women and feminism in African independence, and I also did a lot of political theory and philosophy, which I loved. It was great to have another year for me to broaden my education before I had to to start narrowing down what I wanted to focus on. I discovered that I wasn’t much of an ‘E’ person; me and economics didn’t really gel! It was great to have a foundation in economics and then focus on the other two, which I really loved.
What started your interest in law and journalism?
When I was at WHS, I did feel as though I didn’t have a peer group of other Black girls, because it just wasn’t a diverse school, and I really craved having friends who shared my heritage, so I started working for The Voice newspaper, which is one of Britain’s oldest Black newspapers — actually, the oldest Black newspaper in Britain. It’s based in Brixton. After school, from Year Ten, I would go to The Voice and write articles for them. I initially did it as work experience, but I discovered that I loved journalism, I loved interviewing other young people and writing about their experiences. That sowed a seed really early on for me, and I discovered I have this huge curiosity: I’m interested in people and their lives, I want to tell their stories. I found it a real privilege to tell other people’s stories and work to do justice to their voices. That’s something that’s really stayed with me throughout my career. I pursued journalism from there and I’ve been a journalist for more than twenty years, or even twenty-five years.
Law was something that came to me later, having done PPE, after Oxford I went to work in development in West Africa. I discovered that I really wanted a skill, a tangible skill that I could offer. I was working in developing countries and I found that I wanted to advocate more professionally. I wanted to be able to litigate and hold people to account for their leadership decisions and structures. I thought if I had the skills of a lawyer, I could do something much more tangible. That’s why I came back to England and qualified as a barrister. I think it’s a really useful skill to understand the legal system, even if it’s just so you’re not intimidated by it. I wish there was more of that in our general education, so that you don’t have to actually become a lawyer to get some of the basics of how the law works.
What are your favourite and least favourite things about working as a lawyer and as a journalist?
I was a a reporter for a long time for the Guardian and then for Sky. That’s hard because you have to be balanced and we have rules about impartiality and objectivity, so it can be hard when you’re reporting on something you’re really passionate about to stay neutral. I discovered that I really love commentary and analysis. I enjoy being able to inject my own thoughts and analysis into my journalism, so I’ve become more of a comment writer. I have a column in the Guardian now. The TV I make is more polemical, so I’m allowed to be myself and I don’t have to pretend that I’m neutral. It’s a really important skill to be a reporter, to be able to take yourself out. I’m glad that I have that foundation, but because I always report on the things that I really passionately care about, it’s frustrating at times to be detached from it.
As a lawyer, I practised legal aid law, so I was representing people who couldn’t afford their own legal representation and were really at the lowest rung of the socioeconomic ladder, facing homelessness or eviction, deportation, children who are in care, and really vulnerable adults and children. It’s really difficult work to do because it’s important and you have to give so much personally to do it. The system is falling apart; it’s not funded, the resources needed to achieve justice have not been put into that system. All of the professionals, the solicitors, the barristers, the case workers, do the work under such difficult conditions and that makes me really angry, because we pride ourselves as a society that functions according to the rule of law and principles of fairness. It’s hard to see those values when you look at our current legal aid system, so I feel really strongly that it’s not right to starve that system of the resources it needs to do justice to people.
Do you feel as though reporting has given you good debate skills for law?
I think journalism gives you the ability to conduct research quickly, to intuitively grasp situations; it nurtures your curiosity to get to the bottom of things, it helps you get good social skills so that you can relate to people and build relationships of trust with them. In terms of debating, just training as a lawyer was the best practice at that, and being in adversarial situations. Knowing that a lot is at stake in your arguments and how you present things orally is a real responsibility is quite a stress but it really ups your game as somebody who can present things and is unafraid to take up space. I think for women that’s really useful, knowing you can take a platform and take up space, and not have to shrink yourself, not be apologetic. You really expand your voice for a cause you believe in, and that’s something I value from my legal training.
What is the greatest achievement of your life so far?
I’m really proud of my book, because I wrote it when I had a full time job (a really demanding one, it was almost like two full time jobs!). I was Social Affairs Editor at Sky; I had to be ready for six o’clock lives for the breakfast show, I was doing lives at ten or eleven or midnight, getting home really late. I had a then two or three year old daughter, and I still came home and sat up late at night writing my book, because I just knew it was a story I had to tell, and it was a narrative I felt we as a society needed. I look back and I’m actually not sure how I did that, but I was so driven and I’m really proud that I did. A lot of people said I shouldn’t bother. They told me that it was unrealistic for a woman with that kind of job and a child to write a book. They doubted whether anyone would be interested in it, whether there was a space for it — other people have already written books about that subject. There were so many negative messages that, if I’d listened to them, I never would’ve done it, and I’m so proud that I had the strength of character and the self-belief to just drown out those voices. Some came from within: They weren’t all other people’s some were my own voices of self-doubt, and it’s really hard sometimes when you doubt yourself, but I overcame it and wrote my book and it became really successful! Even if it hadn’t become successful I think I’d still be really proud of it, because it’s such a triumph over adversity that I even managed to get it written.
What did you find hardest and most rewarding about writing your book ‘Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging?’
Digging into my own personal life experience, and the giving of my own lens and my childhood and my relationship, which are really personal things. When you’re a reporter, you tell other people’s stories, and even when you write commentary and analysis and you offer your personal critique, it’s still your personal critique on politics and world events and media; it’s not your love life or your relationship with your parents or grandparents, so it was really counterintuitive for me to reveal such personal things. The reason I did it was that the whole point of the book was to reach my younger self. I wanted to make it easier for a young woman who’s growing up now navigating the same things that I struggled with to have an example of someone who has come through them and has the language to talk about them and does so with confidence. I knew that the more I humanised my message and gave those personal insights, the more it would reach people, but it was really hard to do. It was really scary and made me feel vulnerable and exposed, but people have related to that and been drawn to the story and engaged with that. Seeing people from all different kinds of backgrounds, who I would never necessarily have assumed would relate to my story has been so fulfilling and really made it worthwhile.
Many WHS students have been deeply affected by the BLM movement and want to make changes in our lives and communities, what would your advice be to students at WHS who want to make their voices heard and lead through their actions?
A few things: I think the first is knowledge. We’ve got to accept that we live in a society that has not equipped us to navigate the terrain of understanding the structure of racism, the history, the ways it manifests, how it affects people, things like whiteness and white privilege and how race has been constructed to affect us differently. This isn’t to blame individual people or teachers or schools or even political leaders, but none of us have been equipped with those skills or that knowledge. This is the time to start addressing that, because the material is available: the books are there, the films are there, the documentaries, podcasts. People who have been doing this scholarship for a long time are finally being amplified, so you can engage with it. I think we need to recognise that we are all starting from a position of being underinformed. We all need to learn, so read, listen, engage with the scholarship. I think there’s often a false perspective that everyone has an informed opinion about race because they exist in this world, but if you haven’t studied it then you’re as ill-informed as somebody trying to enter a debate about astrophysics without ever having studied or engaged with astrophysics before, so I think we have to recognise that there is a knowledge gap that has to b bridged before we can be useful. Once you have acquired that knowledge it’s about asking how you can position yourself in a useful way, and listening to the people who have been doing this work their whole lives. Sometimes there’s a tendency for everyone to want to insert themselves and make it about them and what they want to do and how they feel, but I think we all need to take a step back, and ask, what is the long game, what are we fighting for, who do we listen to, how can we humble ourselves and be led by the people who are really in this space already? I think this is the best advice for everyone.
Who are your heroes?
Some of them are in my own family: my parents are my heroes. I think if it weren’t for them I wouldn’t be equipped with any of the confidence and energy that I have now. My ancestors as well, as both sides of my family have fled oppression and racism. My paternal grandfather was a Jewish refugee from Nazi Berlin in 1938. My maternal grandmother lived through imperial oppression and came here and raised her children here. She still lives in Wimbledon and is an incredible woman. Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah is someone I admire, as he came to London in the 1940s as a young and penniless student and had the audacity to imagine dismantling the British Empire in Africa, and then did it! He then went back, led his country to freedom and wrote several books. He was an intellectual blueprint for us to follow, and I really wish people would engage more with that work. In his generation, a lot of the seeds for the struggles we are facing now were sown, and a lot of work was done. One of my aspirations in life is to be able to leave a legacy to make it easier for the next generation to continue this struggle. I’m a writer, I really look up to Toni Morrison, who we sadly lost last year. She’s one of my favourite writers and I aspire to just a fraction of the magic of her writing. Also, her honesty and authenticity are very powerful. And there are so many activists who I look up to: Angela Davis, Bell Hooks. In Britain there are so many leaders: Una Marson, who was the first Black woman broadcaster in Britain, she had her own show on the BBC in the 1940s, a single professional woman who managed to survive the war alone, broadcasting and finding her own voice in a world that was hostile to women and Black people at the time. I really look up to her, and I think it’s important to have heroes and know about people who have overcome some of the adversity that you feel like you’re facing alone, but people have got through it before.
How would you define success and what is its secret?
I think it’s really important to define success for yourself and not just embrace anyone else’s or society’s definition of success. I think success is when you stay true to your values, and so you need to know what your values are in order to know whether you’re successful. I reject the idea that there’s one idea of success, and that you can measure success according to any objective criteria. For me, success is being authentic to what I know, and living a life that makes it easier for other people to achieve progress and justice. If I became really rich and famous but hadn’t achieved that, I would regard myself as a monumental failure. I think it’s really important that we are all allowed to define success according to what we believe in.
What advice would you give someone starting secondary school (apart from staying true to their name)?
Yes, don’t give up your name! I think to know that you’re going to go on a journey where you change and grow, and always to try and listen to your inner voice, because when I look back at secondary school, I think I got led astray by friends who made bad choices, and got influenced by people who had stupid ideas. I think deep down there was a voice that knew when I was being influenced by the wrong thing or when I was making bad choices, but I think you have to make mistakes and you have to fail, and it’s very important to know that as well. Just try to believe that you have a voice and that you can listen to it, and that there is a wisdom there. I don’t think I fully appreciated this — it took me a long time to own that I have a conscience and a voice and a vision, and I can tap into it. But also, be kind to yourself. If I could tell my teenage self that, that’s one thing I would definitely say. Be kind to yourself, you will make mistakes, you won’t always live up to your expectations, and that’s all part of how you learn and grow. You have to learn to fail well. That means make the most of your failure, milk it for lessons and wisdom that it has to offer, realise that it’s part of your journey to be someone who is successful by your own criteria. Never beat yourself up for making mistakes.
That’s terribly Wimbledonian of you! What about someone leaving school after A levels?
I think there’s so much pressure on your generation to have everything planned out. There’s so much financial burden attached to studying now. There’s this narrative that the world of careers is so competitive, and it’s so difficult, and that is true, but you cannot know who you’re going to be when you’re thirty or forty. I’m on my fifth career, and I’m still in my thirties — just! I think it’s really important to have a plan, to really interrogate what you’re about, and think in terms of purpose, and be mission-oriented. Also know that that’s going to change, and you need the space to be able to grow and change direction. If you can build that into your thinking, you won’t feel a sense of crisis when you realise that the path you’re going down is not the one you wanted to go on, and then you’ll be more resilient when it comes to rearranging things. I think that’s how life is now, and I remember when I was on my second or third career it was normal to just have one career your whole life. Now, no one does. The world has changed around me which has made it easier, but there is this pressure on young people to have it all figured out. As long as everything you’re doing makes sense to you at the time, that’s the best you can do. Everything I did made sense at the time, and that’s what leads to the next thing that makes sense. That’s worked really well for me.
Have you got a birthday message for the school?
Happy birthday! I think that the school should be really proud of how many girls and women it has educated over years, decades, and generations, but I think it’s important when you congratulate yourself and take stock of success to also embrace new challenges. There is scope for Wimbledon High to become a more diverse school that embraces more people from different backgrounds, whether that’s socioeconomic background or racial and ethnic background. It is important for that to be part of the Wimbledon High School identity, that it is diverse in every facet of diversity. Theres scope to grow, and I hope that in another 140 years, they will be able to look back and see that that has happened. I also hope it won’t take that many years!
