Listicles, in all their concise glory, have a special place in their heart for Bradford, my home city. Bradford is routinely featured in articles bearing titles such as “Top 10 worst places to live in the UK” and “Top dumps”. Little wonder that in my teenage years I balked at the prospect of telling people where I was from, weary of the raised eyebrows and pitying looks.
Hence my delight at yesterday’s fantastic news that Bradford has been crowned the UK city of culture 2025. The title will at last allow it to flaunt its already flourishing commitment to nurturing creativity and talent – and I will never again have to pretend I come from somewhere else.
Bradford’s reputation has been put through the wringer over the years, in no small part due to the media’s fascination with the unique makeup of its community. At school, I remember the outrage that ensued after Channel 4 aired Make Bradford British in 2012. Not only was there an implication that there was something inherently un-British about us, but racial segregation was illustrated through the inevitably distorting lens of reality TV. For many, this issue was far too serious to be broadcast as entertainment, and such media portrayals left a bitter aftertaste.
Though the positive aspects of life in Bradford are often overlooked in favour of sensationalist depictions, they played a pivotal role in shaping my career as a journalist. At the age of 12, I was encouraged to enter the Ilkley literature festival with a (rather soppy) poem I’d written. For the first time, I entertained the idea that my future might involve manipulating language for a living.
As footage of the jubilant crowds in City Park reacting to the announcement from the culture secretary, Nadine Dorries, flooded my timeline, I was reminded of my very first “news report” (I use the term loosely) aged 14, through which I’d been able to meet the architect who controlled the colour and formation of the park’s fountains on his phone. I was enthralled.
Bradford boasts one of the youngest populations in the UK, and the 1,000 performances and cultural events on the cards for 2025 will help broaden the horizons of other young Bradfordians, allowing them to consider careers in the arts that wouldn’t otherwise have appeared on their radar.
Just two weeks ago I bought a copy of The Khan by the West Yorkshire-born and bred Saima Mir. Shades of Bradford life are weaved into the narrative, and I found myself hooked not only by the fast-paced crime plot but also by the fact that, for the first time, I had encountered a female South Asian protagonist in literature. It seems a reasonable assertion that only a UK city of culture could inspire both the Gothic landscapes of Wuthering Heights and a crime novel focused on a second-generation British Pakistani family.
As is always the case, not everyone is in the mood to celebrate this commitment to cultivating the talent with which Bradford teems. Immediately after the announcement, I came across a picture someone had posted on social media of the Bradford riots in 2001 – a burning barricade surrounded by dozens of hooded men. They had simply captioned it “Bradford – city of culture”, and their wry nod to the violence of the past racked up likes by the minute.
We should by no means discount any of the threads that form the fabric of a city. But at a time of change and celebration, dredging up memories of heightened racial tensions seems antagonistic at best. It is precisely why Bradford needs a helping hand in shaking off the vestiges of the past and dismantling preconceived notions about its spirit and nature. More than anything, the city needs to believe in its own capabilities to inspire excellence.
From the bustling chai shops that are open until the early hours of the morning to the Waterstones nestled in the drool-worthy Gothic Wool Exchange building, Bradford is flavoured with culture old and new. As the UK city of culture 2025, it has the unique opportunity to turn the dial and begin to counter decades of negative stereotypes that have proliferated through traditional media and now social media. Here’s hoping the next time I type “worst places to live in the UK” into a search engine, it doesn’t churn out “Bradford” in every result. Or, at least, not in the Top 10.
Ghazal Abbasi is an investigative journalist and researcher
