Hugging infinity
As someone from the Commonwealth, my relationship with the monarchy has always been complicated. I’ve never been a royalist and never will be, but I respected the late Queen Elizabeth II hugely as an individual. I don’t believe the years of exemplary service she did for the UK and the Commonwealth territories will ever be replicated. For me, she redefined the word “British”. As a leader, despite her life of duty, she was always gracious about people pursuing their own liberty: my home country, Trinidad and Tobago, abolished her role as head of state in 1976, yet remains part of the Commonwealth.
However, like all privileged inheritances, there are burdens that one must bear—and the British monarchy has plenty of those. Not to mention its murky history. As a southern Caribbean man, I received a reality check about the British state from my elders, who told me about the treatment of my predecessors who arrived as part of the Windrush generation. These people, who were invited from the West Indies to meet labour shortages in Britain, felt themselves to be British. But many of them faced racism and dehumanisation when they arrived, and some were even sent back to the Caribbean unlawfully decades later in the 2018 Home Office scandal. Any illusion that they were British was scorched away. Furthermore, the stain of colonialism on the monarchy cannot be washed away in any one monarch’s lifetime.
As a person seeking asylum from a Commonwealth country, it has also been amazing to me that I have, like those expelled during the Windrush scandal, had to jump through so many hoops to prove my case. Coming to the UK feels like your relatives have invited you to their home—only for you to realise when you get there that you are not welcome.
The disruption caused by the Queen’s funeral also created stress for refugees in my area, as several of the foodbanks they rely on were closed. Co- ordinating with the charities I work with, I sent many WhatsApp messages to local asylum seekers to let them know when foodbanks would reopen, to reassure them that they could get their essentials later in the week.
The UK has entered uncharted waters with a new monarch in King Charles III and Camilla, the Queen Consort. Watching the funeral on the television, I saw only a man who has lost both parents within 18 months. I was struck by how traumatising and devastating it
must be for him and his family. I saw a man who has been dreading this day for some time, knowing his mother couldn’t be queen for ever. However, what motivates a person is a sense of meaning. A clearly defined, uniquely determined role will bring life satisfaction for King Charles.
I have every hope that he will show his best qualities when called upon, as he has been now. I’ll end in saying this to you, the British public, in your time of grief: when I think of my parents, brothers and grandparents passing, I hold their memory in my heart. Like I’m hugging infinity, because that’s the exact length, height and width of my love for them, and for all great individuals I meet on my life’s journey. ♦