By D. Sohi, Blog Correspondent The Windrush Generation in the UK has recently come to light, not through the retrospective lens of a historian, but an active resurgence of othering. Those who had boarded the SS Empire Windrush from the West Indies to Britain in 1948, were attracted to the offer of full citizenship suggested by the British Nationality Act of 1948. It seemed like a mutually beneficial partnership: post-war Britain’s infrastructure (National Health Service and London Transport) needed repairing and strengthening, and commonwealth “subjects” desired new opportunities. According to the National Archives (UK), immigration ‘increased in 1954 and had reached over 135,000 by 1961.’ With their landing cards destroyed by the Home Office, they were, and still are, at the mercy of the Home Office itself, which demands multiple forms of identification. If there are no landing cards, there is no hard evidence that they were ever here legally. Legislation from decades ago, prior to rigid immigration control, doesn’t cut it. The question of responsibility surrounding the destruction has detracted from, and delayed, solving the issue for the affected. Those brought over by Windrush and the children accompanying them, now face being sent back to places they barely remember. The ‘hostile environment’ that current British Prime Minister Theresa May wanted to create, back when she was Home Secretary, has been achieved. In 2012, May explained that the goal was to not encourage people to overstay and access all the benefits of a legal citizen. That sounds fair in theory, but the actions taken to achieve this have only served to foster extreme suspicion and question the belonging of anyone appearing to be different. One example is the use of billboard vans with ‘Go Home’ on them, driven through the streets of London in August that year. Not only was the scheme criticised for employing the same rhetoric of the Far Right National Front in the 1970s, it only resulted in 11 reported individuals leaving. The vans were also part of a wider advertising scheme, with papers put up in diverse and ethnic minority populated neighbourhoods. The vans are just one example of a disconnect from a humane and dignified way of handling illegal immigration. The Windrush situation has resulted in job loses, homelessness, refusal of free treatment by our National Health Service and detention. Thankfully, members of the public have taken to petitions to prevent this succession of unfair measures. The Windrush Generation’s contribution to British society has been brushed over instead of appreciated. It is evident through the political fallout that the government’s handling of this situation has been about saving face rather than a compassionate and regretful solution. The scandal may urgently concern those of Caribbean descent, but it has prompted other minorities in Britain to wonder how far the government is willing to go to remove immigrants or their descendants from society. Which creative methods in the future will be devised to extract those who have been settled for a lifetime? Will this turn extreme and extend to second and third generations? As implausible as it sounds, recent social-political scandals have proven that anything is possible. The Windrush Scandal is a loud counter-argument to anyone who either claims that Britain does not have race problems, or dismisses the topic entirely. Minorities in the UK, such as myself, have been forced (once more) to re-examine our place in what we call home; our sense of belonging is constantly shaken. I never thought I would have to double check with my parents their “status” (they’re naturalised, if anyone from the Home Office happens to read this). It’s a depressing reality that makes me wonder if my descendants will face something similar in the future. The Windrush Scandal is a reminder of our otherness. Wherever people settle, their assimilation will always be questioned.
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