It is two years since a crowd of 10,000 people gathered on College Green in the name of challenging racism around the world, marched to the statue of Edward Colston, pulled it over and rolled it into the Floating Harbour.
Like most momentous events that shape our lives or our city, it both feels like that happened 20 years ago and two weeks ago.
On one hand, as someone who spent the 2010s listening to a lot of people, and writing a lot of words reporting on how Bristol was grappling with its challenging and often uncomfortable past, its difficult present and the dreams of a better future, I still can't believe June 7, 2020 happened. It still feels like last week. It is even now a bit jarring to walk in The Centre and pass the empty plinth where Colston stood for so long.
Read more: Colston 4 case to go to Court of Appeal this month
On the other hand, so much has happened in the two years since, as a direct result of the actions of that crowd, that it feels like decades ago now.
However, there are two things that I constantly have to tell myself, as the second anniversary of that day in June arrives.
Firstly, the vast, vast majority of people in Bristol weren't there that day, maybe didn't even know who the statue was of, didn't know that much about how Bristol's wealth, fortune, lovely Georgian buildings and restored 1830s churches were built on the money made using enslaved labour, and don't really care that much. And also, there's a sizeable number of people in Bristol who shudder a bit when being reminded of what happened when what they saw as a lawless mob pulled down one of the city's main landmarks or monuments - and then 18 months later 'got away with it'.
The second thing that provides the reality check I often need is that the statue was just a statue - a symbol of an elite and very niche power battle between Victorian businessmen, vying to establish their own version of Bristol's history. It wasn't even really a symbol of racism - just a reminder of 400 years of black lives not mattering to the white people who own everything and run everything.
Racism didn't end because a big crowd pulled over a statue two years ago today. The systemic racism endemic in society and our city that sees young black kids more likely to be stopped by the police, to be dealt with differently, on average, in the criminal justice system, to not do as well at school, to not get as good jobs, or promotion, to live in worse housing, statistically, than people of other ethnicities.... that's still with us.
And before anyone complains - saying systemic racism is endemic in our society is not the same as saying people are racist as individuals - even though many people undoubtedly are. It's about averages, statistics, outcomes, life-chances. Read the Runnymede Report about Bristol's statistics on this to find out more.
Equally, the million or more people around the world who are enslaved today weren't set free by the statue being toppled. In fact, they are still working in brothels and nail bars here, or building World Cup stadiums in other countries.
So nothing, fundamentally, changed when the statue was toppled. Or even when the four people put on trial for criminal damage were acquitted.
But lots did change. In one day, from being dismissed as a niche or uncomfortable issue that mainstream politicians and business leaders were happy to sweep under the carpet and say wasn't important, Bristol's history and its weird 'cult of Colston' was suddenly something everyone had a view on.
Suddenly, politicians, moneymen, business leaders, were falling over themselves to pronounce themselves against Colston and all he stood for - even though the week before they were happy with what had been the status quo for 125 years or more.
That hypocrisy has not been forgotten by the people in Bristol who had been trying to shine a light on this for years before. To them, the words to disassociate themselves from Bristol's past story and the 'cult of Colston' appeared as hollow as the statue itself.
Bristol wasn't comfortable being thrust into the forefront of a global culture war two years ago. Whichever side of history you found yourself - or even if you still tried awkwardly to sit on the barbed wire fence - it didn't feel right having culture warriors in Texas or Tottenham spouting forth on June 8, 20202 about the statue of a man they hadn't heard of until June 7, 2020. Maybe it's parochial, but this was a very Bristol-specific issue.
Ever since the late 19th century, Bristol existed in its own bubble of history, telling itself white lies about where the money came from, while constructing an elaborate web of power, control and leadership that allowed myths and half-truths to be perpetuated about the city's story.
A web of power and a series of myths and half-truths that seemed incredible and baffling to the outside world when the outside world suddenly walked into Bristol the next day to ask what the hell a modern cosmopolitan city was doing having pubs, schools, office blocks, concert halls, roads, forts, weirs, student halls and sweetened bread products named after one of the architects of the industrialisation of the transatlantic slave trade.
As Bristol continues to move into the 2020s and beyond, at least the city is now a place where the main institutions, schools, business leaders and politicians, finally, have had to publicly state their opposition to the slave trade, its legacy and to racism. That, at least is something.
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