Growing up as a black punk
In 1970's Nottingham
By Sonia Long | 18.10.2022
Being Black and female on the punk scene was difficult. Well let's be honest, it was simply a reflection of what wider society was like in the late 70s and throughout the 80s. Having said that, I was attracted to punk subculture not only because of the music, but for its politics too. I was brought up in a household with parents who were very interested in politics and current affairs, and I have strong memories of being a child watching the news before Dad went to work and programmes like ‘World in Action’ which was a weekly documentary programme focusing on current affairs and featured John Pilger as a presenter.
As a teenager, I was 14 years old in 1976, I remember the rise of racist groups across the country, with the National Front being the largest and most active. In the mid-to-late 70s, punk and anti-racism went hand in hand, with many punks aligning themselves with Left anti-racist politics. So whilst society was significantly racially intolerant, and racial violence a daily threat, the scene was as Don Letts has recently stated; ‘punk was a refuge from racism’.
I've always loved music, ever since being a small child listening to the radio in my bedroom, the Top 40 radio show every Sunday, Top of the Pops on TV every Thursday evening and music that my Mum and Dad would play at home. I wasn’t so keen on my Mum’s taste in music mind you, Indian music from that part of my heritage and Country and Western artists like Jim Reeves, but I loved the music my Dad would play. On the weekends and at parties he hosted, he would play bands like the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, The Who and The Kinks alongside Jamaican ska, rocksteady and reggae and soca. Dad kept up with music throughout his life, so in the 70s he would be playing bands like T-Rex, Mott The Hoople, Roxy Music, Motörhead, Queen, Wizard, Sweet and David Bowie. Pre-punk, this is the music I was listening to, alongside funk, soul and northern soul.
I first became aware of punk in the summer of 1976, when Britain was in an economic downturn with high unemployment rates and numerous worker disputes and strikes amidst a fierce heatwave. It felt like one minute I was listening to the Bay City Rollers and the next I was calling myself a punk rocker! I had watched The Old Grey Whistle Test and started listening to the John Peel radio show which introduced me to a lot of the bands. When Virgin Records opened up in the city centre, I was in there as much as possible, sitting downstairs listening to whatever the staff were playing. I didn’t go to my local school and had to get two buses to get there, passing through the city centre Monday to Friday, so on the way home from school I would drop in. The staff in the shop were great. I especially liked a woman who worked there, the only female I remember working there actually, who would talk to me about who she was into and get me to listen to them. She would sometimes take me for a coffee at Kardomah Cafe, right by my bus stop. Looking back on it, it was so kind of her; there I was just this quite shy, awkward kid in my school uniform on my way home and she was this really cool young woman who took me under her wing and made sure I was ok. Often on my own in the shop where it was all white guys and me, so maybe she heard some racist comments or at least understood that I was vulnerable to racism.
Thinking about how things were in Nottingham back then, blatant racism was rife and hearing the ‘N’ word was a daily occurrence. This was pre-political correctness. I would hear that word and similar many, many, many times a day - at school, on the bus, in shops, even at home through the TV - it was just everywhere. When I left school in 1979 aged 16, I went to work at Jessop and Son, now known as John Lewis, and was told I was the first Black person to be employed on the shop floor, as opposed to the kitchen or warehouse. I was placed in the young women’s fashion department called ‘Trend’ and I was literally selling clothes which used the ‘N’ word to describe the shade of brown. I would have women coming up to me asking for a cardigan or jumper in ‘N’ word brown. Can you believe that? Can you imagine how I felt every single time I heard it? This was the climate I grew up in! This was the climate that shaped my politics! You couldn’t escape racism, it was everywhere.
Nottingham is a small city, so being Black and female on the scene made me highly visible and an easy target for racists. My parents, especially my Jamaican Indian Mum, were really strict and over protective, so I didn't get out anywhere near as much as I wanted to until I left school in 1979. I did sneak out a few times to go to pubs and gigs - I was always the only Black female there.
At the time there was a guy called Mick who was dual heritage who I would see at Sandpiper’s, a brilliant small venue in the city centre which put punk bands on. He wasn’t punk, but he was at some of the gigs. I think he was a rude boy, wearing his suits, Fred Perry or Ben Sherman shirts, pork pie hat and a Crombie. I always loved seeing him around, he was a really nice guy and a bit older than me, a kindred spirit. There were a few really good punk bands at this time too, including a band called Controlled Chaos, and one of the guys was Black. I don't think I ever told him how I felt seeing him on stage and around town, but it meant a lot to me.
As we move into the early 80s, a couple of Black punk guys appeared on the scene. We loved the scene and navigated our way through it as best we could. We’re still friends to this day. Sadly, another Black guy who had learning development issue attracted a lot of racist verbal abuse, it was absolutely disgusting! I certainly remember him being referred to as ‘dumb ‘N’ word’ many times. So that was it as far as I remember, the three of us trying to manage the racism that came our way as best we could. The strange thing is, we never talked to each other about it or looked to each other for support. I don’t know why. We were so young and you have to realise just how pervasive racism was back then. I can only think we just got on with enjoying the scene despite the blatant racism.
I was even less comfortable on the scene with the skinhead revival of the 80s and the emergence of Oi. It was dangerous to go to certain places and gigs, but I was young and headstrong and wasn’t going to let anyone tell me where I could or couldn’t go. I would go along and suffer the consequences which was mostly verbal abuse to be honest and only occasionally a glass thrown in my direction or ‘accidental’ cigarette burn or elbow in the ribs. I don’t really know why I didn’t get beaten up or attacked in some other way. I do remember once there was a huge skinhead guy from Ilkeston who had been at the gig and as we were walking back into town, he asked me out on a date. Obviously I said no and in response he picked up a paving slab and threw it at me. My friend pushed me out of the way or it would have hit me in the head. He wasn’t the only blatant racist to ask me out and they all got the same answer. It infuriated me then, and still does, that some people think you can’t be racist as a white person if you have a Black partner. There were enough people on the punk scene who weren't like that though, so obviously I gravitated towards them and managed to enjoy the scene despite the casual racism.
I never talked to my friends about how I felt, but every gig, pub or club I went to I'd be nervous, especially out of town, until I knew I would be comfortable there. One thing I did learn very quickly was always to keep enough money in my back pocket for a taxi or bus to get out of somewhere quickly if I needed to, and that's something that has stuck with me. I just never discussed it with anyone. I think I just thought that no one would understand.
Sadly some of the abuse I got came from other Black people. I would walk through town and get called horrible names like ‘coconut’, ‘malteser’, ‘choc ice’ meaning Black on the outside, white on the inside. It cut me to the core and hurt much more than being called the ‘N’ word or the ‘P word’ which I often got because of my Indian heritage. You see I expected abuse from white people but not from other Black people and especially because not once have I ever been ashamed or embarrassed about being Black. I've never tried to ‘act white’, whatever that means. I've always considered myself to be a PROUD, BLACK, FEMALE. Always have been, for as long as I can remember, even as a child. I've never believed the racist ideology that society tried to push down my throat. I’ve never believed that I was less than or lower than anyone else. I’ve never believed that anyone was better than me because of skin colour or anything else to be honest. So when I got comments like that from people who were Black, that really hurt. It was an unbearable pain almost, but thankfully with my strong sense of self it did not affect me in any significant way. You have to remember, no other Black person looked like me at that time. There were no Black women with spiky, dyed hair, nose rings and ear piercings, wearing painted biker jackets, ripped up clothes and doc martins. None! Punk style has become so assimilated into fashion that it must be difficult for those who weren’t there at the beginning to imagine just how radical dressing like that was.
I remember there were a couple of Rasta guys around who used to talk to me when hanging out in the Market Square and tell me that they wanted to ‘reason with me’. They were really lovely guys who talked to me about Rastafarianism and Black consciousness, but it didn’t take them long to realise I was a very politically conscious young Black woman who didn’t need their advice. We got on well and they understood my choices and respected me, which was a huge deal for me at the time. I am remembering now how I was completely ostracised by a few friends who were Black, so yes, my choice to be Black and punk came with a lot of difficulties, but it was a brilliant time in my life that has shaped the woman I am now.
I still enjoy the music and put punk & alternative gigs on regularly at Rough Trade Nottingham and have recently revived Rock Against Racism gigs. Sadly even now, I am, more often than not, the only Black person in the room. The scene has changed dramatically since the late 70s and is definitely more diverse, but in smaller cities like Nottingham, Black people in alternative subcultures are still few and far between.
Sonia’s work has included project management roles in the statutory, not-for-profit, community and women’s sectors, predominantly in the fields of education, adult and community learning and therapeutic support, through her not for profit social enterprise New Rose Ltd. She has been involved in UK punk subculture since 1976, mostly as ‘fan’, but since 2016 organising various gigs and events through her Punk It Up! project. As a feminist and anti-racist community activist, she’s especially passionate about Black women’s representation and is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Nottingham.
Follow Sonia here: New Rose Ltd | PuNk iT uP! | Rock Against Racism Nottingham
This article was published as part of Amplified Voices: Turning Up the Volume on Regional Youth Culture. With thanks to National Lottery Players and the ongoing support of the National Lottery Heritage Fund.