By Louise Cannon
South London

It is an intriguing and slightly unnerving feeling when what you know and the reality you’ve become accustomed to suddenly transforms in a blink of an eye. In February 2009, the people of the small commuter town on the outskirts of South London where I have lived all of my life voted for, as our local Councillor, a man representing a racist, whites-only, political party (I refuse to name the party on here as I do not wish to give them any free advertising).

I remember quite distinctly the disgust I felt on hearing the news. The UK people had been going through a period of dissatisfaction with the government at the time. Many had become disillusioned with their policies, especially, it seemed, the white-working class who, apparently, had no platform to voice their opinions and concerns about things such as immigration.

The majority of this thinking, in my opinion, was influenced heavily by the right-wing media who whipped up hysteria surrounding immigrants and the level of immigration and portrayed the white working class as forgotten ‘victims’ of the governments flawed immigration policy.

Articles such as: “Soaring crime, mass immigration…why the white working class is fearful for the future”, “Working-class white British boys falling behind everyone else at school”, “Immigration set to increase Britain’s population by a third”, “Are Britain’s immigration controls an absolute farce?”, “Britain has let in 800,000 immigrants” had seemed to become an almost daily occurrence in the mass media.

However, I wasn’t influenced by this way of thinking at all. I was just perplexed as to why people had voted for a racist party, albeit a ‘protest vote’ due to their loss of faith with the government. It made absolutely no sense to me unless you are, in fact, racist or you never completely understood what you were voting for in the first place. In my heart I hoped that the people of my town were of the latter, but I could not be certain.

At the time, I took the election result badly and felt its effect deeply, almost like I had been wounded. The party, as part of its constitution, if it ever came into power, would ban mixed-race relationships (of which I am part of), on the grounds that they wanted to preserve the ethnic character of the UK.

In other words, to them, to be British, you had to be white (they also wanted to enforce an ethnically segregated UK, much like the Apartheid regime in South Africa. My (black) partner would also have been given money as an incentive to return to his ‘country of ethnic origin’. I recognise that there is always going to be close-minded, ignorant and prejudiced people in the world, but when those people are members of a group that claims to be a legitimate political party and are gaining votes up and down the country, well that thought really and truly terrified me.

The deep shock that I felt was compounded by the fact that I had absolutely no clue that this political party was even campaigning in the area. I’d seen them listed on my postal ballot, but had dismissed the thought that they even had a chance of being elected here. Okay, the area is predominantly working-class and about 95% white, but surely people weren’t that ignorant, were they?

Perhaps I’d been walking around in my own little rose-tinted bubble, thinking that times had changed, that everybody accepted people for who they were. Obviously I know that the world is not perfect, but was I so wrong? How could people vote for a party that didn’t even bother to knock on people’s doors or circulate leaflets about their campaign and what they planned to change or improve in the area? A party that, to me, just seemed to be a complete farce. Was I the only one that felt this way?

I frantically searched on Facebook, whilst trying to contain the panic I felt bubbling up inside of me, for any person or group that felt as repelled as me towards the recent events. It did not help that the media had started to sensationalise the whole thing by claiming that it was a significant breakthrough for the party, as it was their first electoral success in the south of England outside of London. I can’t say that this thought filled me with much elation, or optimism for that matter.

It was only after researching more about the party and reading on their website that I discovered that they had indeed campaigned in the town. In fact, you could say that the residents had been bombarded with cold-calling on doorsteps and had had party literature shoved through their letterboxes several times a week.

Yet there was a distinct lack of, well, any correspondence at our house. Then it dawned on me: nobody came to our house, nothing fell through our letterbox because my partner is black and I am white. We represent everything that they despise. Of course they weren’t going to waste their time talking to us. We would never vote for a party that wants to destroy everything we’ve built. I wondered though, how did they know we were a mixed couple? Had a neighbour tipped them off, or were they able to access this information by other means? I still, to this day, have no clue how they knew, although I don’t lose sleep wondering.

One thing this experience did show me was that, it is very easy to underestimate the sense of loneliness and isolation that an event such as this can bring about inside oneself. At the time I genuinely feared for my family’s safety. I don’t know what I expected to happen, as we’d never experienced, as a family, anything worse than a lingering stare. However, I just remember feeling very jittery for a couple of weeks afterwards. Perhaps I was waiting for the ubiquitous brick through the window, as I imagined some local racist suddenly thinking he had the right to do such a thing.

Fortunately on Facebook I did find a group specifically against the election result. I can’t explain the relief that I wasn’t the only one that was distraught that our town had been blighted with the stigma of electing a racist party. After chatting and debating on Facebook, a small protest was arranged with local trade unions, anti-racist organisations and a group of local people, in the town centre. It went well and we attracted some local media attention. Of course, we also received some negative feedback on internet forums (mostly organised by the political party as a form of propaganda against anyone who disagreed with them) asking why we felt the need to demonstrate against someone who had been democratically elected.

After the protest, a small number of residents, including myself, formed a campaign group to expose the truth behind the party. The group, much to my frustration, did not take off as the founder of the Facebook group tragically died a week after the protest. Subsequently, people either lost interest or didn’t have the heart to continue after losing their friend. As disappointed as I was, I had to understand. Although it made me wonder, if these people had mixed-race children, or were part of an inter-racial couple, would they have continued the fight?

So, two years on, has much changed in the town? Not really, despite the fact that the party claimed to be a voice for the white working-class. Perhaps the residents who voted for the party did just get swept up and consumed by the sensationalist scape-goating (of immigrants) and propaganda that the party fed to them. Perhaps they didn’t know their true agenda and believed that the party genuinely wanted to help them.

We never hear from our elected councillor (well, aside from two leaflets complaining about how his party is so discriminated against, oh the irony!). Has he done anything to try to improve the area or facilities for local people? Of course not! Local volunteer community groups do far more for the area then his racist, disgrace of a (joke) political party could ever do.

Did I learn anything form this experience (apart from definitely trying to get to know my neighbours!)? Yes, in fact, I think I did: never become too complacent. Hatred can sometimes be only one vote away.

Louise Cannon is an English Literature graduate with two young mixed-race sons from the outskirts of the melting pot that is South London. She is passionate about anti-racism and intrigued by the concept of ‘white privilege’ and how it might affect  her role as a mother. For the past couple of years, Cannon has worked in schools in a supporting role, which, coincidentally, opened her eyes to some rather alarming ignorance displayed by teachers regarding ethnic minority pupils.  She is currently on an extended maternity leave while her partner completes his degree at University.