Two weeks ago I started a new job, working with young people who are being exploited or at risk of being dragged into county-lines activities. The problem is becoming more prevalent in schools, colleges and pupil referral units (PRU) – children are doing it to other children now.
I feel I can help in a positive way. And although I was hoping for a permanent job with holiday pay, this is an ongoing contract initially for three months. But the pay is better than my last job and I’m starting to plan for the future.
I want to go on holiday. I haven’t had a holiday since before the pandemic. I had booked to go to Morocco, but it was cancelled during lockdown. Now my passport has expired and I will have to pay £82.50 to renew it; the fee went up in February. I plan to start putting money aside each week.
My new job is full time but I don’t have to go into an office every day, so I save a bit of money on travel. I’ve still got my other jobs: my Saturday reparation work, my casual youth work, my evening youth work. It’s a lot, but it’s good because many people are doing that now – I’ve always had lots of jobs so it doesn’t feel like a chore to me, it feels normal. Still, I need a holiday. I need to get out of here.
Have you seen the price of butter and everything that’s gone up? It’s crazy. I did some shopping the other day, I spent £100 because I’ve reduced my shop to every two weeks. I have to cook more often now, so I’m back doing that on a Saturday and Sunday.
It seems to me that some shops have increased prices during this cost of living crisis out of greed. Inflation is supposed to be going down. The shopping should reflect that but prices keep going up. My rent has gone up as well. My council tax has gone up. My phone bill has gone up. Broadband has gone up. Everything has gone up.
Everything about the UK feels so toxic at the minute. I feel as if I’m constantly on edge. With this racist rhetoric that is coming from the government, I can’t help but feel something bad is going to happen. I feel I could be targeted, with the government not condemning it, which is worrying. I don’t feel comfortable. Before, I used to think: “I’m British, I’m here.” Now, I’m not too sure.
I’m thinking of comments like Robert Jenrick’s, when he said that “uncontrolled illegal migration” threatened to “cannibalise” the UK’s compassion. What has cannibalism got to do with migrants? Or Suella Braverman reportedly making her views “very plain” to Essex police after they removed golly dolls from a pub. Or the Windrush compensation scheme, which is taking too long.
It’s a pressure cooker and it’s going to spill over. I don’t think the government understands the level of hate it has stirred up in its constant attacks on brown people. I am not alone in this. I talk to my colleagues. I talk to my friends. Everybody feels the same.
A couple of weeks ago I was in Tesco and there was a guy standing next to me. I didn’t know if he was in the queue or not, so I asked him. He looked me in the face, and chose not to respond. These days, my only conclusion is that he didn’t want to answer me because of the colour of my skin. While I can’t be sure why I was totally ignored, what other reason could there have been?
I’ve had to go back to basics in order for me to feel good about my life. I’ve had to say: “Sharron, you’ve got a flat, be grateful. Sharron, you’ve got a job, be grateful. Sharron, you’ve got up today and you’re going out and you’re walking and you can see, you can talk, you’re not ill.” I’ve had to go back and appreciate everything from the basics. There is no other way.
Sharron Spice is in her 30s and lives in London
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