The theme for Black History Month 2024 is ‘Reclaiming Narratives’ – a matter of vital importance when it comes to the intersecting issues of racial discrimination and domestic abuse. Throughout the month, we’re pleased to be celebrating and spotlighting the transformative work of changemakers from Black, African, Caribbean and Mixed Heritage communities within the domestic abuse sector.
This week, we had the opportunity to speak to Michaela Queensborough – a staunch Black feminist and an award-winning academic activist, who is called to action to champion change in the name of racial and gender equity. In the following interview, we hear from Michaela on the vital importance of intersectional, culturally competent, and trauma-informed responses to domestic abuse, including prevention, that recognise historical and racial trauma and centre the unique lived experiences of both adult and child victim-survivors.
The theme for Black History Month this year is ‘Reclaiming Narratives.’
What does this mean to you?
For me, as an anti-racist activist, reclaiming the narrative is about counteracting the narrative that Black history is just part of British history. British historian and scholar, David Olusoga, has written prolifically on the evidence of the long history of Black Britons in the UK – yet we don't see that in the landscape or curriculum, it’s been diluted. Reclaiming the narrative is about disrupting that denial within the status quo. We were there, we had a crucial role in building and laying the foundation, but that’s never been properly recognised. We’ve been gaslit on our history and, through ongoing systemic racism, continue to experience cultural erasure of our contributions – of who we are and what we have done. This issue feels particularly poignant this month. A few weeks ago, I lost my dad, who came from Saint Vincent and the Grenadines. Our family history is not so far removed from slavery; we have roots in British Guyana and the original Caribs, so I've seen what his generation endured. Challenging the narrative is about honouring our ancestors and the generations that have gone before us – recognising what they endured and the roles that they played. It's time that our contributions throughout history, and today, were validated.
Can you tell us a little bit about your role within the Domestic Abuse sector?
My role in the sector has always been rooted in my lived experience. This was my motivator for pursuing a PhD, in which I explored domestic abuse in relation to childhood and ethnicity. I felt compelled to amplify the voices of those less heard and naturally gravitated to working within the women's sector in various different roles – leading projects and programmes with a preventative focus through early intervention and education. I consider myself to be an academic activist – reclaiming the narrative and disrupting the ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach in terms of our responses to domestic abuse and violence against women and girls.
In terms of reclaiming the narrative, it’s always been about authentically honouring intersectionality. Intersectionality, for me, is very much intrinsic to Black feminism – a phrase coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw to discuss and understand multiple forms of oppression and how they overlap and intersect within systems of power and privilege. You'll hear quite often about misogyny, but for us as Black women and Black mixed-race women, we experience misogynoir, and that's very different. It's not just hatred of you because you're a woman, it's hatred of you because you're a Black woman. As we've seen with the racial terrorism over the summer, for women from Muslim communities, their experience of Islamophobia is rooted in both being Muslim and being a woman.
The language we use for reclaiming the narrative is so important; not because we want to be ‘other’, but because we experience being othered, and that needs to be recognised and articulated. Across racialised communities, we can see that experiences of racism are interwoven with our trauma. If we're honouring trauma-informed care in its most authentic form, we must also recognise and respond to historical trauma. In the roles that I've held, I've always championed intersectionality and trauma-informed care in an authentic way, so that cultural competence isn't an add-on. One of the highlights of my career was attending a Parliamentary event focusing on a whole school approach to sexual harassment. I was invited as part of a panel chaired by Kim Leadbeater MP and was able to champion culturally competent responses; highlighting what that looks like and how we can meet victim-survivors at the intersection of their inequalities.
In our manifesto, we have detailed some key asks to help us work towards stopping harm, one of which is ‘Focus on Prevention’. Can you tell us about what that would look like for you?
Respect and The Drive Partnership’s work in this area, especially around data collection, is important, because we know that there is a lack of disaggregated ethnicity data, and that data is vital towards being able to reclaim the narrative. We need to understand who victim-survivors are and what they need to be able to tailor and target interventions that will increase their safety, and that starts with looking at the gaps and who isn’t being accounted for.
Addressing these gaps couldn’t be more critical to safety. A statistic that has always stayed with me from my research is that it takes an average of 17 attempts for a Black woman to get the support she needs when looking to escape domestic abuse, compared to 11 attempts for her white counterpart. If that woman has children, that's 17 missed opportunities for the children to be safe as well, who have now been recognised as victims in their own right under the Domestic Abuse Act. I find this statistic profound because we know the huge barriers that women face when trying to leave an abusive relationship, and we should be working to ensure that the door is wide open for everyone to make this possible. We are failing women and children when they reach that vital window of opportunity for them to reach safety. I've become comfortable with being uncomfortable and having conversations to name the elephant in the room, because, without doing that, we're not going to be able to reclaim the narrative. We are not asking for more – our needs must be responded to equitably.
Being able to respond to the needs of different communities is powerful when we think about prevention, because we don't live a universal life and we have different risk factors. These subtleties are critical when responding to domestic abuse, but they can be overlooked when cultural competence is missing. I’ve been working to address gaps across the prevention space – leading a panel and prevention programme in partnership with six specialist by-and-for service providers working across the Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG) sector. Collectively, we were able to reach over 10,000 beneficiaries, planting seeds of change to empower young people, teachers, and professionals to identify the signs of an unhealthy relationship and be informed about how to access support. The work was rooted in intersectional feminism and cultural competence, and there was such demand for it that we over-delivered by 50%. This is an evidence-based model that is working, but we need to build on these successes with investment that will truly embed prevention as part of the curriculum and a whole school approach.
What is your understanding of the response to victim-survivors of domestic abuse within Black African, Caribbean and Mixed Heritage communities and what do you think needs to change?
I respond to this with caution because we aren’t a homogeneous group, and I speak to my lived experiences as an African, Caribbean, mixed-race woman. This is important because people from racialised communities are best placed to speak to their needs, yet we're not always given seats at the table to bring our unique experiences and perspectives – it's often an afterthought. We need meaningful collaboration and allyship to ensure that there are no missed voices.
I've been called to action as a third-generation survivor of violence against women and girls; so that’s my nan, my mum and myself. My nan and my mum are both White British, and my Nan was Welsh. As an African, Caribbean, mixed-race woman, my experiences have been different. It’s important to highlight that, for us, racism is a form of violence against women and girls – my ethnicity and race were weaponised against me by my perpetrator.
Within interracial families, there can be a dual perpetration against children growing up experiencing racism from both white family members and Black family members. Growing up, my neighbours didn't accept me as Black because I had a white mum, but then your friends don’t consider you white because you're Black. I've written about this as essentially feeling like the ‘piggy in the middle’ because of my complexion; neither sitting here nor there. Our identity, particularly in early years, is crucial to becoming a well-rounded person, having a secure attachment, and having a sense of self. When that is constantly being threatened and undermined – with people making comments about your lips, your nose, asking ‘why do you look like that?’, or saying ‘that can't be your mum’ – whilst also navigating a domestically abusive household, that's a lot for a child to contend with.
These experiences have driven me to illuminate the lived experience of children from mixed heritage households in my research. I spoke with practitioners in refuge, who said, for example, a Mum (white British) was so traumatised by what Dad (Black African) had done that she had to stop his contact with both her and the child. Safety is paramount and the mother has done what she needs to protect herself and the child, but it’s important to not overlook the unique experiences of a mixed-race child in these situations and the intersecting trauma that they will have to navigate in not having access to their culture and heritage. As mixed-race children, we're a beautiful amalgamation - we have two heritages, and we need to know both to be well-rounded. If Dad can't be involved for safety reasons, then, as a wider response to VAWG, we need to be able to allow that child to access and embrace their full identity, which relates to the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child and your right to know who you are, where you've come from, and your history.
I had the honour of attending the ‘It’s Time’ Violence Against Women and Girls service at Saint Paul's Cathedral, and I had this conversation with Jess Phillips, who totally got it. When your displacement becomes weaponised as a form of perpetration and you go to a generic service, for example, are they going to understand specifically how that experience eroded you, annihilated you, and broke you in a way that can only be understood when you bring race and ethnicity into the equation? A specialist by-and-for service will be able to understand that nuance, which is why their work is so vital.
Can you tell us about how you have been part of changing the dominant narrative about your community, your work, or your organisation?
We need to reclaim the narrative both across and beyond the domestic abuse sector. For example, my son is currently in his fourth year at a white majority primary school, and it’s important that he has access to his culture and heritage. Each year when the school asks for feedback, I've said it would be great to see Black history on the curriculum in October. This year, they took that feedback onboard and created a beautiful book display. This is a good first step that will make a difference, but there needs to be much wider change across all schools. For example, ensuring that access to culture and heritage is reflected in the food on offer for children. We are shaped by our lived experience, so if you haven't had access to cultural experiences, how would you know about rice and peas, or Saturday Soup? I feel strongly that we have a huge responsibility in reclaiming the narrative for children who, for whatever reason, are not in contact with part of their family, and do not have that direct access to part of their heritage.
My call to action for anybody reading this is very much about allyship. It's about going beyond lip service and it’s about using your platform and your power to call out systemic racism; to call out that elephant in the room. Silence is very much complicity – if we are going to move forward, it's not something that we can do in a silo. It's something we have to do as part of collective and coordinated action, and it's well overdue. Taking it right back to the start of this interview, for people here in the UK whose parents and grandparents came from overseas, from the West Indies and from the Caribbean, this is deeply personal to us. We've been given the baton and we're running with it, and we really want to see change, not just for us, but to honour those that have gone before us.
Image of Michaela credit: Meena Kumari, Founder of H.O.P.E Training & Consultancy: #100 women Digital Art Project that raises awareness of and celebrates black, Asian and minority ethnic women working / advocating / campaigning within the domestic abuse & sexual violence sector in collaboration with Daisy M.
