When did I first notice my invisibility? As a woman of mixed race living in a city that appears very diverse with visitors from all over the world, I had wondered what the answer was to this question.
I didn’t first notice my erasure this year when I enquired in late September at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, my local, well-endowed internationally recognised museum what they were doing for Black History Month. I had envisaged being able to volunteer some help for the anticipated events, proudly bringing along relatives visiting the city. I was greeted by museum staff with some confusion as there was no information available to give me; it seemed that the staff expected that there would be something planned and ready to show off to the museum’s many visitors. Perhaps this was just a communication problem or delay, but when I checked again at the end of September there was still no recognition of Black History Month. In all honesty I was not surprised. No, this was certainly not the first time I noticed my erasure.

Why does an experience such as this matter?
In the words of Catherine Ross, founder and director of the National Caribbean Heritage Museum collective ‘Museumand’:
“Black History Month is a time to shine a light on our shared British history and tell the whole story honestly and truthfully, to decolonise and reclaim history, and tell stories from the perspective of all people – not just the rich white men in power. […] it’s time to ask communities how colonial objects and symbols are used to tell the true story of history. […] In years gone by, October has been the only time of year when the UK talks about the achievements of Black people in Britain.” She hoped that “the events of 2020 would be a catalyst for Black history to be shared much more widely – in museums, galleries, schools, universities, public spaces and communities”.[1]
At a deeper level, why does this matter? As I write this, I feel that it should be unnecessary to spell it out. Surely we realised all this years ago and, in particular, during the enthusiasm of 2020 for decolonising our services, workplaces, and cultural experiences? In that year, Black Lives Matter (BLM) seemed to be part of the mainstream consciousness and so many workplaces filled their diaries and strategies with ED&I. Decolonisation became de rigueur.
Four years later, it feels like this has been forgotten and discarded. Despite that apparent BLM reckoning of 2020 and the optimism I felt about how it was embraced in different settings and in the national narrative, I found myself back in a familiar place as I stood in that museum reception last month.
That place is somewhere in which your own identity is denied, as it is not reflected back to you in a meaningful, affirming way. It is a place in which, for example, you are one of the few people of colour in a small white English town (as I was). Seeing a role model who looks like you is like receiving a massive gift to your own developing identity, and this is why seeing Black women in powerful positions in politics for the first time (such as Diane Abbott or the Obamas) mattered so much).
An important part of building ego and identity
I am reminded of a shocking statistic I had seen mentioned in an interview by Caribbean writer Marchelle Farrell: “…Black Caribbean people born in the UK had a nine times higher risk than their white British counterparts of developing schizophrenia.” The risk factors include “how much someone belongs, feels rooted in a place, and is accepted by the community in which they live.“[2] The writer’s family is fortunate to have “been embraced” in their countryside setting.
However, for many Black people the experience of life in the UK is far more alienating and, sadly for some, they will be very much part of the statistic she cites. For many of these whose mental health is under strain, they will have to take their chances within perhaps even more alienating medical provisions. As Therapy Today notes, they may rely on mainstream mental health institutions where “whiteness prevails”. These institutions are “staffed by professionals whose trainings are underpinned by Eurocentric perspectives and theories, that often don’t match the diverse.”[3].
Reflecting on the psychological importance of feeling accepted, I wonder how that could manifest itself beyond the critical experience of health provision. How might that be demonstrated in other parts of everyday life? We could consider what it feels like entering our great British galleries and museums, our hallowed halls of allegedly international culture.
Reflections of my heritage
I often wondered if I was alone in searching for reflections of my heritage of which I could feel proud. The times when this happened were valuable. Back in 2019, I visited the Ashmolean to see an exhibition about the tea trade. It highlighted the importance of the sugar industry, its Caribbean plantations and associated slavery. It included a heartening attempt to link the local ‘Windrush’ generations, along with their descendants, to the history of the Caribbean. The audio recordings of local communities in Oxford made a powerful statement about the imperial past of the city and its university. Frustratingly, the display was very limited in scope and size, and the recordings virtually inaudible. I considered this alongside the fact that many other objects held by the university museums are essentially objects taken or stolen from the indigenous owners and could be used to demonstrate more comprehensively the imperial past of the city and the university.
At that time I felt very hopeful about the change that our museums nationally could make to promote positive and visible identities. I watched the exhibition schedules across significant hallowed institutions with optimism. Much of the media-praised initiatives such as the Black Atlantic exhibition at the Fitzwilliam Museum (in Cambridge) and the British Museum’s Enlightenment Gallery and their effort to “offer other ways of confronting curatorial complicity in colonialist and racist violence.”[4]. Liverpool’s International Slavery Museum also has provided a powerful contribution to the recognition of the latter experience.
Reviewers note that in the British Museum, the Enlightenment Gallery holds a Taino stool from the Caribbean. Curators have now placed a mirror beneath it so that we can see that this item’s provenance which was carved underneath. A missionary had received it from a freed slave. As the reviewer states, “this mirror, reflecting the colonial history previously hidden from public view, indicates curators’ reflections on how best to address their own troubling entanglement with Britain’s past.”[5].

I chase around for more. The Fitzwilliam exhibition, Liverpool’s Slavery Museum and the Royal Academy exhibition are all welcome as far as they go but the former is small and the last tends to foreground Black people as object rather than creator. In the Entangled Pasts exhibition at the Royal Academy, modern art by Black artists is included, such as Frank Bowling’s grand Middle Passage from 1970.[6] But where is a celebration of the worth of Black artistic heritage? Somehow despite the sorely needed efforts of Liverpool’s museum and much of the Entangled Pasts exhibition, it feels the content of these should be basic history, which I’d welcome more of in the school curriculum. I wonder where is the centring of African or – heaven forbid– Caribbean art? If that is erased what does that make me and others like me?
At one of the other major museums in my local city, the Pitt Rivers, things are a little different. As a museum of anthropology efforts are being made there to continue the explosion of conscience of 2020. Near one of the exhibition entrances, panels announce their recognition that a museum “is not a neutral space of cultural representation.” They state that “in a museum representation matters and invites the visitor to […] think about the power dynamics and ask yourself four simple questions: Who is being seen? Who has the power to see? Who is being represented? Who represents?”[7]
The panels recognise that this museum “is tied to British imperial expansion and the colonial mandate to collect and classify objects from all over the world. The processes of colonial ‘collecting’ were often inequitable and even violent towards those peoples being colonised.” The panels provide an example, from the early twentieth century “in which the museum acquired 994 Nigerian objects through British colonial officers stationed in Nigeria who had studied for the Diploma in Anthropology at [the university].”
There is still, it seems, a lot of learning to be done. Only this month I read in the local paper that a delegation of Maasai people has visited the Pitt Rivers to request the return of sacred items. The report tells us that the museum hadn’t realised the collection of 188 Maasai items was controversial until seven years ago when a Maasai activist visited. The museum brought out some objects for him and colleagues to see and he was horrified. He said “The only way they could have been obtained was by force, by killing their owners.”[8] However, this stimulated a collaboration between the Pitt Rivers Museum and Maasai community leaders. The museum says that they aim to work collectively with partners from across the world towards redress on a case-by case basis “The museum is committed to working with stakeholders and source communities to research the provenance of the collections”. I wonder if case-by-case is enough. Perhaps we need something more systematic by now?
Returning to the current position at the Ashmolean Museum mentioned at the beginning of this article, I searched for signs that this sort of recognition mentioned in the Pitt Rivers panels may also be present here. Unfortunately, it feels like we are left with some mixed messages. I am encouraged to see an interesting talk included in its events programme. A talk has been scheduled about “colonial currency and how it was engineered for economic extraction and exploitation. It will explore the role of imagery on colonial money in perpetuating the colonial narrative.“[9] Unfortunately, I am frustrated to find that this fascinating talk is open to paid up museum members only.

What I am keen to see is a way in which the museums’ collections can reflect with respect the art and history of Black people, in a way that will engage them in being connected to the art with pride and feel part of the communities which have created collections valued by our society. The items held at more museums could provide the foundation for a comprehensive and wide-ranging exhibition about their imperial past which could be of national and international importance. In the case of the Ashmolean, this would be a honest acknowledgement of the role of the slave trade in the imperial past of the city of Oxford and its university. I believe a venture could involve the many ethnic minorities in the city and would be an important message to minority residents like me.
As Catherine Ross states in relation to Black History Month “it’s equally important that Black people take the lead on how that history is discovered, explored, researched, recorded, archived, curated, exhibited and shared. That means supporting Black-led heritage organisations and professionals; making national and local institutions much more accessible and representative.“[10]
Please may we see Black heritage respected, with historic art not just exhibited in greater numbers but control of that display being by Black people.
Written by Deborah Thorne
For those interested in further exploring the history of Black Oxford, there are a number of projects that have been active during this Black History Month and beyond. The Race and Resistance Research Hub runs regular events on this theme, such as a recent alternative walking tour of the city, while Pamela Roberts’ ‘Black Oxford Untold Stories‘ tour is available to book. The ‘Black History in Portraiture‘ project also seeks to diversify the visual narratives of the university and city.
And of course, if you’d like to find out more about the legacy of race and empire in the Ashmolean Museum you can also do so via our own ‘Uncomfortable Ashmolean‘ tour.
References
[1] Catherine Ross, ‘Why Black History Month is more important than ever this year?‘, blackhistorymonth.org.uk.
[2] Marchelle Farral, ‘A moment that changed me: I was outraged by the risks facing my children – so we moved to the country‘, The Guardian (9 August 2023)
[3] Helen George, ‘The big issue: Taking black mental health matters into their own hands‘, Therapy Today (October 2022).
[4] Ephram Levinson, ‘“Curatorial Conversation” – Black Atlantic (Fitzwilliam Museum) & Entangled Pasts (Royal Academy)‘ in Criticks (7 June 2024).
[5] Ibid.
[6] Francis Julien, ‘Frank Bowling: in the Glow of Light and Colour’, National Gallery of Canada Magazine (17 February 2021)
[7] Object in Focus
[8] Miranda Norris, ‘Maasai Visit Pitt Rivers Museum to Request Return of Sacred Items‘, Oxford Mail (1 October 2024)
[9] ‘Colonial Money in Africa‘, ashmolean.org.
[10] Ross, op cit.