Everyday Racism, At a Seaside Near You.

If you’re taking an only child for a day at the beach (that’s a long time) it’s essential to pitch up in just the right spot, i.e. next to other children the same age with accompanying adults that look keen. That, says my friend, who is also the mother of an older “only”, is key. Parents who look as though “they have a bit about them” will be vigilant and stand at the waters edge while your child plays with theirs’. “That way you can top up your tan while catching up with the latest celebrity gossip in Heat Magazine”.

I don’t do sun bathing (My freckled Irish skin goes a kind of radioactive red which isn’t a good look) and The Economist, as opposed to Heat, would be my magazine of choice. Despite dismissing the advice as a load of codswallop, I found myself doing a quick reccy of the beach last week and, completely coincidentally, pitched up next to a couple with children about the same age as my 6 year old.

As I wrestled with a beach tent with an identity crisis (it thought it was a kite) in gale force winds (this is England after all), my neighbours watched in amusement. It dawned on me that I would be the one on coast guard duty for the duration.

Having erected our base (after a fashion), I set to work pumping up the newly acquired inflatable dinghy. “A vital procurement”, according to my friend. “It’s a great way to lure other children in”. To which I replied, “I’m the mother of an only child, not Myra Hindley on a grooming expedition.”

The pump either wasn’t up to much or my technique was rubbish, but I kept trying. I overheard the woman opposite (part of the duo that allowed me to struggle unaided with my tent) say to one of her children who seemed upset, “Them children aren’t the same as us. They’re mean and rude, don’t play with them”. Her two blond boys had been playing with two British Asian boys, who I later discovered were Muslim.

Frustrated with my failed attempts to inflate his dinghy, my son accosted the first male he saw to rescue me (time to swap his superhero comics for some Jacqueline Wilson books methinks). The man was the father of the “rude, mean” children, Isa (pronounced Eesa) and Kareem. In return for saving the day, I offered them a ride in the boat. Turns out they were kind, well mannered boys with whom my son spent a joyous day, along with the blonde boys, Josh and Ben, who I invited to jump in too.

I gleaned that the incident that invoked outrage from Josh and Ben’s mum earlier was Isa and Kareem’s decision to go for lunch in the middle of a game. Her son’s disappointment was twisted into something sinister and ugly by his mother. Fortunately, still too young to be tainted by entrenched prejudice, both her boys were oblivious and carried on playing and sharing with their darker hued peers.

In last week’s Independent, Yasmin Alibhai-Brown wrote about the scourge of every day racism. She lambasted the lack of roles for black actors in the UK, the fact that only one black or Asian writer was longlisted for the Booker Prize and the dearth of black editors anywhere in the mainstream media.

The 2011 census showed that 17.9% of the UK population is non-white, against 4.2% of MPs and 3.5% of FTSE 100 chief executives, chairmen and finance directors. That’s not good enough. But, while the campaign group, “Everyday Sexism”, is gaining momentum for gender equality, Everyday Racism goes either unnoticed and/or unchallenged. Apathy and complacency are the greatest enemy of equality and democracy.

Our children aren’t born bigoted. They’re born pure and prejudice free. We (parents, schools, the media, politicians and society), have it within our gift to inculcate that purity or, contaminate and annihilate it. I wonder how long Josh and Ben have before they start seeing Isa and Kareem through their parent’s poisonous prism?