Xenophobia in England
Article
translated from the original French- as First Published in Huffington Post January 2018
Written by a
French Woman returning to France after Brexit.
The removal van doors were closed. One last time we slammed the door of this house which was to be our
for ever home, our home for life. It had been chosen after long research, it
was enlarged, redecorated entirely. We loved it, it was the first time in our
nomadic life that we felt at home, laid down, without the desire to go
elsewhere. In fact, we felt at home in England, more than anywhere else. And
then the Brexit has arrived.
As I have already said, the brexit was not a vote against Europe, but against the Europeans, it opened the floodgates to a xenophobia of all times that we took as a slap. 10-year-old friends who turn their backs on us, the hate speeches of the government populists, the administrative vexations, the insults of strangers in the street, and the systematic abuse of our rights, our dehumanization by a prime minister who treats us of bargaining chip, of currency of exchange and no longer of human beings. It hurts. The darker future of our children, because their parents had the audacity to be born elsewhere, the closing doors, the flaming racism, the ostracism, the government's insidious apartheid policy, the country which sinks, the crunching nerves, the anguish that settles down to panic attacks at the thought of simply passing the door from home. And nothing. Not a hand stretched, not a single person who stands up to say that it can not last like that. Finally, if we Europeans who still fight to defend our rights certainly, but also a certain idea of England. An idea that day after day, discrimination after discrimination disappears, in the total indifference of the population.
My England was beautiful, funny, welcoming, open, cosmopolitan, tolerant, thoughtful, pragmatic, fair, generous, polite, irreverent, eccentric ... I trusted her completely. Not for a moment could I have imagined that she would sink so low and so fast. My wonderful country has turned into an infamous movement where the one who shouts the strongest wins, a country where bullies rule, xenophobic stalkers. Common sense has disappeared in favor of the worst ideologies, hatred has replaced hospitality, cowardice has taken the place of irony. My dream England may never have finally existed. No more than those friendships that evaporated overnight. No more than that English spirit that I found so free and which was only an illusion. The decor has fallen and it is not nice to see. Racism, obscurantism, moldy colonialism, cowardice, utter contempt for others, ignorance, a feeling of superiority on the whole earth, stupid stupidity ... and yet, it hurts again. Not easy to mourn my lost English illusions. So we leave, for our children, their future, to flee brexitland, because there is nothing for us in this country that pushes us out.
The movers will be tomorrow in front of our new house in France. Before leaving our old English home, they could not retain a last unpleasant reflection, a joke more than limit on the French. They did a lot yesterday thinking that we do not hear them, or maybe we do not understand them, even if we speak to them in English ... given the level of intelligence of these people, it is possible. I become as mean as they are, it's time to leave. Thank you dear assholes with your thoughts to help me not cry. Thank you for reminding me why we are leaving. Without hesitation.
As I have already said, the brexit was not a vote against Europe, but against the Europeans, it opened the floodgates to a xenophobia of all times that we took as a slap. 10-year-old friends who turn their backs on us, the hate speeches of the government populists, the administrative vexations, the insults of strangers in the street, and the systematic abuse of our rights, our dehumanization by a prime minister who treats us of bargaining chip, of currency of exchange and no longer of human beings. It hurts. The darker future of our children, because their parents had the audacity to be born elsewhere, the closing doors, the flaming racism, the ostracism, the government's insidious apartheid policy, the country which sinks, the crunching nerves, the anguish that settles down to panic attacks at the thought of simply passing the door from home. And nothing. Not a hand stretched, not a single person who stands up to say that it can not last like that. Finally, if we Europeans who still fight to defend our rights certainly, but also a certain idea of England. An idea that day after day, discrimination after discrimination disappears, in the total indifference of the population.
My England was beautiful, funny, welcoming, open, cosmopolitan, tolerant, thoughtful, pragmatic, fair, generous, polite, irreverent, eccentric ... I trusted her completely. Not for a moment could I have imagined that she would sink so low and so fast. My wonderful country has turned into an infamous movement where the one who shouts the strongest wins, a country where bullies rule, xenophobic stalkers. Common sense has disappeared in favor of the worst ideologies, hatred has replaced hospitality, cowardice has taken the place of irony. My dream England may never have finally existed. No more than those friendships that evaporated overnight. No more than that English spirit that I found so free and which was only an illusion. The decor has fallen and it is not nice to see. Racism, obscurantism, moldy colonialism, cowardice, utter contempt for others, ignorance, a feeling of superiority on the whole earth, stupid stupidity ... and yet, it hurts again. Not easy to mourn my lost English illusions. So we leave, for our children, their future, to flee brexitland, because there is nothing for us in this country that pushes us out.
The movers will be tomorrow in front of our new house in France. Before leaving our old English home, they could not retain a last unpleasant reflection, a joke more than limit on the French. They did a lot yesterday thinking that we do not hear them, or maybe we do not understand them, even if we speak to them in English ... given the level of intelligence of these people, it is possible. I become as mean as they are, it's time to leave. Thank you dear assholes with your thoughts to help me not cry. Thank you for reminding me why we are leaving. Without hesitation.
No comments:
Post a Comment