While the Windrush generation has often been conflated with the 2018 scandal in recent years, their contribution to British life cannot be overemphasized.
The term refers to nearly half a million Caribbean people who arrived between the years of 1947 and 1971. They were absolutely integral to the recovery of the nation following the devastation of WWII — in spite of the overt racism and bigotry they were subjected to.
As Colin Grant — the author of Homecoming: Voices of the Windrush Generation, and the Director of WritersMosaic — tells VT: "If these pioneers had not arrived, Britain would have remained on its knees for quite some."
To celebrate Black History Month UK, we spoke to Grant about how the Windrush Generation changed the face of the Britain we know today; from boosting an ailing economy to influencing many aspects of our culture.
Replacing those who could not be spared
Following the mass exodus of almost one million white Britons to commonwealth countries, such as South Africa and Australia, Britain was in dire straits.
While many of the Caribbean people who came on those initial boats - including the famous Empire Windrush of June 22, 1948 - were returning servicemen who had fought during the war, others were recruited to fulfill an increasing labor shortage.
"In a way, the Caribbean people who arrived were replacing all the white Britons who had left at a time where they could not be spared," Grant says, detailing that there were recruitment offices built at Waterloo and Paddington Station to entice the Caribbean people to seek employment.
As such, the Windrush Generation took on crucial roles in the transport sector, and within manufacturing and the NHS.
"The country was on its knees, there was a lot of rubble, a lot of bombed-out buildings, and no matter if you're any country, if you want to expand and create a viable economy, you need to have people coming in."
Carrying on in the face of adversity
Despite all this, the intolerance that they faced was unfathomable.
A 1939 mass observation study that was circulated to understand what white Britons thought upon hearing the word "negro" shows the extent of the prejudice and bigotry they would have to endure. "It showed that white British people had very native ideas — they thought they were barely one up from apes, and that they were only good for entertainment," Grant says.
"Even though the British government had sent booklets out to Caribbean countries to give them an idea of what to expect, they did not explain that they would be met with naked racism. There was no race relations act to give any kind of protection, and up until the late 60s, they could turn up to the gate of a factory and see a sign that read, 'no colored people please.'
"A lot of women worked in nursing, and some patients didn't want to have Black hands on their white skin," Grant continues. "Here, they expressed their stoicism and 'come what may' attitude. People talk about the hostile environment of Theresa May's initiation, but it was there from the very beginning.
"That's a mark of what these people were able to do. They were able to forbear the slights and humiliations that they received on a daily basis, because they were coming here to better their lives, and that of their children. This courageous pioneering generation paid a price, and the trauma is deep."
A multicultural exuberance
One of the ways in which the Windrush Generation were able to contend with this treatment was by forming a cohesive Black identity.
Grant says that when people were in the Caribbean, there wasn't much island hopping. For example, a man and a woman from Trinidad would not know a couple from Jamaica or Barbados. "So, what happened is that they found each other in England, as they were all being perceived in the same way — as Black. They forged a collective identity centered around being brothers and sisters in exile.
"When you're being turned away, you form your own institutions. And they had a great determination to forge a life where no one would have to give them a helping hand. That gave us a strong sense of identity through the emergence of Black churches, clubs, music, and cricket teams."
One example is that of the Notting Hill Carnival, which brought "technicolor to the then monochrome culture of Britain". Within the carnival, there was music — Ska and Reggae, in particular, which came from Jamaica. Indeed, at one point, the 1972 film, The Harder They Come — whose soundtrack is often lauded to have "brought reggae to the world" — was broadcast non-stop in some of the country's independent cinemas.
Similarly, post-war, many churches in Britain were empty. After being turned away from white churches, Christian Caribbean people formed their own. This, "brought a lot of renewed excitement to the idea of religion."
And while food was slow to change the culture of the cuisine in this country — its lasting mark is indelible. Grant recalls speaking to elderly white people who said that they had never seen a banana before 1950. But thanks to the sizeable Black population in parts of Britain, fruits like yams and plantains became commonplace.
Finally, they "changed Britain's stodgy approach to cricket", and showed that the sport could be "exciting and celebratory". Here, he references pictures from the 1940s, depicting Caribbean people attending cricket matches, wearing suits and ties — with banjos in toe.
"All these things mark an exuberance that the Caribbean people brought to this country," Grant concludes. "They were not created with an overarching idea to forge an identity or a notable presence, they were just getting on with life, and trying to make that life attractive to themselves."