If it takes a village to raise a child, then how do we define the village? This question underpins
much of my research into culture-building for Black people born and raised in Britain. Who are
we and how do we actualise ourselves? Because yes, we have a popular culture, but what of
our movements? What of our rites and rituals? Our values? It is important for us not to equate
proximity with community. It will take an intentional collective effort to build this Village, and
intentional members to become its Threshold Guardians.
Traditionally, Guardians of the Threshold enable us to spiritually mature by helping us confront
any negative manifestations on our journey to enlightenment. These Guardians test our
readiness by laying bare any conditioning that can get in the way of our spiritual growth. In
context, our ‘village’ is the threshold. This theosophic concept demonstrates a need to
understand the past, so we can contextualise our present, and effectively take hold of our
futures.
Black Brits have shared roots with the rest of the Black Diaspora, with prominent influences from
the Caribbean, West Africa, and the United States. Though these cultures have often laid the
foundation for our sense of selves, they were formed in different contexts to our own and are not
tailored to our needs. The British State has attempted to present assimilation as an option to
Black Brits. But many “British Values” are anti-black and neoliberal; and Britain’s ongoing hostile
domestic and foreign policy proves assimilation to be an illusion to foster compliance. History
has shown us that assimilation into the British imagination results in conformity, not belonging.
Here we see that British culture too, is not designed with us in mind.
Threshold Guardians are able to describe and contextualise our experiences, helping us to
distinguish between what is for us and what is not. This can help us understand our place in the
world better, enabling us to self-actualise. It fosters our connection to others, giving us a sense
of responsibility for the Village. Once initiated into the Village, any of us can take up the call of
Guardian and contribute to the group-actualising process, whether as community workers,
spiritual guides, librarians, educators, archivists, facilitators, organisers, practitioners, doulas
and carers, artists, or something else. Upon finding ourselves, we will also be better equipped to
engage the Diaspora with a Pan-Africanist intention.
In discussing Black male self-actualisation, St Louis, Missouri-based community organiser Mike
Jones commented,
‘one thing that we don’t talk about is that they took our rites of passage. And
replaced them. So now it’s been replaced with shit that’s not really a rite of passage. It’s
replaced with *prison*. Niggas go to jail [...] get arrested. And it’s almost like, “well, the time
finally [came], finally got em! Yep. Finally got in them cuffs.” [...] It’s looked at as, like, something
you go through as you transition from being a boy into a man.’
Displacement has disrupted our rich traditions – our literal modes of survival – leaving us
without actualising rites for our current state. A lack of collective intention bodes ill for the future.
How then can we unpack our past and engage with our present to disrupt these futures? In
Theory for the World to Come, Matthew J Wolf-Meyer states that,
‘Articulating futures – imagining them and bringing them into being – is an active process, and rather than a posture of
resignation, theory for the world to come needs to instil radical curiosity.’
Our homes can be sites of affirmation, as were our elders’ front rooms. Our experiences can
continue to be acknowledged in our songs, poems, prayers and affirmations. We can reclaim
the anti-social hours for ritual, celebration and organising, like Nigerian Hall Parties in London,
and our ancestors in the Caribbean; or to take up space like the midnight grime cyphers in our
nearby tower blocks. Like those who printed their own publications or utilised pirate radio
frequencies, we have the internet to create alternative gathering spaces. And we have what bell
hooks calls our ‘oppositional gaze’, reclaiming our Otherness as antithetical to normalised white
supremacy. The Black Radical Tradition is a reminder that, despite displacement, we have much
at our disposal.
Actualisation is a collective, ongoing effort, and our toolbox will need to be robust to weather the
British hostile environment. This is a call to all Guardians of the Black British Village, to imagine
new rites of passage; share cultural and historical knowledge; signpost and provide resources
or services; create gathering opportunities; unite with Diaspora; and design the future. We stand
on the shoulders of giants, and make up links in the Great Chain of Resistance. Let us do what
we can to guide the displaced back to the Village.
by Jaz Morrison