I never knew the Atlantic Ocean was so small.
Brixton neatly places Africa and the Caribbean together in one city and finally there is a town big enough for two sheriffs. As an African American travelling to London for a summer I went looking for English culture instead I found an arena of Blackness I didn’t know exist.
England is known as the fashion capital of the world, a place for high tea and of course the queen. But all the travel guides I viewed before my study abroad in London forgot to tell me about Brixton.
Before I could even use my broken British accent I practiced by listening to Idris Elba they already knew I was an American girl. Still, they didn’t turn me away; they welcomed me into their city and showed me London from their eyes.
In Brixton you can buy jerk chicken on one corner and black soap on the other. You can dance to reggae and rap to djembe beats until the British cops roll in, and then you realize Brixton is a lot like Harlem.
For Blacks, Brixton is a cultural epicenter that embodies our music: jazz, rap, reggae, gospel and hip hop. But for British cops it’s known as the most crime ridden part of England. Well, forget what the cops say, Brixton is amazing.
Brixton was just what I needed to complete my English journey.
In West London I got dapper with the British women. I dressed in a much higher fashion than I ever knew I was capable of. I mixed pallets of gray, green and navy with salmon and crème. But in Brixton I got to kick it with the people who like to listen to classic James Brown records and can make a mean cornbread.
Our style of dress was the absolute norm. The brother with the long dreads, Yankee fitted cap, and sandals, that’s right sandals, was more than fresh, it was symbolic.
The street markets are so overwhelming with products that only we know how to use it makes you want to spend every pound in your pocket.
Brixton made me feel like a worldwide bond of blackness between the Africans, Caribbeans and African Americans had just been made it could never be broken. We were all simply black, enjoying the rich culture that connected us all.
When all of our attention was drawn away by Obama’s picture on a young boy’s shirt, crafted from rhinestones, there was no doubt that our hearts were on a simultaneous beat. They explained to me that they couldn’t vote for him but they had cast a vote of respect from their hearts.
Now, we were open to each other, free to speak about anything we wanted.
In an Afro-Caribbean restaurant, eating what was similar to soul food, just with a whole lot more soul, men and women shared opened their hearts to me.
They shared their stories about how they journeyed as families to England and have found new opportunities and community. They spoke of their love for the Black leaders we have in America and what divided Africans and Caribbeans for years and what eventually brought them together, respect.
I made a promise to a charming woman named Carol that I would do my best to tell the world what a magnificent place Brixton is.
Brixton is more than amazing.
It’s one of the treasures of the worldwide Black community. It taught me to appreciate Blackness in every way it comes. Whether it’s tapered, dread-locked, braided, permed or in a fro, Black is internationally beautiful.
