Hey, entitled white people: Enid’s racism needs to be challenged

Self-centred hysteria and demands not to face criticism are the reaction of those clinging to the past, writes Laura Waddell

If Enid Blyton being commemorated on a coin wasn’t a real prospect, albeit now ruled out by the Mint as reported to much consternation, it would be a little too on the nose as a metaphor.

Money makes the world go round, after all. Currency is what we trade with. There are statues to racists all over the country, looking over public places, surrounded by buildings built by slave trade profits.

Valorising a racist author accused of racism would only be the latest in a long line of tributes to those who rose to the top of a country literally and physically built on inequality. In 2019, Britain can no longer plead ignorance. We cannot put racism on our money. But we could start examining more closely who in our society is valorised, and how the stories we tell about Britain as tea-drinking and mannered have obscured violent colonial realities and ideas.

I loved Enid Blyton books when I was little. I devoured as many as I could get my hands on, mostly from the Famous Five and Secret Seven series, and they impacted my world view on what a picnic should be comprised of (ginger beer, obviously), what adventure looks like (islands, spies, and boats), and more. I inherited old copies from older family members, checked them out of the library by the dozen, and rummaged for them in car boot sales. I’ve heard few ideas more exciting to the imagination than the Magic Faraway Tree, and all the lands it offered access to – tables laden with impossible and sweet foodstuffs, and topsy turvy places which askew gravity, padded with pillows.

But none of those reading memories stop me from recognising the racism too, which I didn’t truly take stock of until a bit later in

life, and which in some cases has been edited out to make contemporary editions more saleable.

There may no longer be golliwogs on the pages, but children are still not reading books which reflect modern Britain, with ethnic minority lead characters lingering at around 1 per cent. The bold and overt racism in Blyton’s books was overlooked for so long because it was wrapped up in a benign and charming package of storytelling.

The world is changing, but very slowly. Slowly enough that Enid Blyton’s racism was discussed decades ago, and the conversation is still rumbling on. When the prolific writer was considered the quintessential children’s author, which has largely endured in sentimental legacy (as well as a blue plaque, and other honours), the post-war racial makeup of Britain was evolving.

In 1966, the Guardian criticised Blyton’s book The Little Black Doll, which includes the phrase “ugly black face,” with a character whose black skin colour was washed away by rain. A manuscript considered too xenophobic was rejected by publisher Macmillan in 1960, later picked up by William Collins. These conversations were had decades ago, but many in the present day seem completely unable to handle questioning racism at all.

It is testament to collective modern vanity and disinterest in history that many believe we are in an unprecedented age of ‘moral outrage,’ when really what we are witness to is an era where the range of voices in the public domain is broadening and social attitudes are being challenged and changed.

When those impacted by racism and sexism share concerns, it’s often interpreted in bad faith, not only by career controversialists with a tired but still profitable line