It was date night in the upmarket, ever-fashionable Ivy restaurant, and it was all going so well. The lights were dimmed and we had shared some champagne and zucchini fritti, but the frivolity soon dissipated when the dessert menu arrived. Listed on the pages of puddings before me was a “Plantation” rum-soaked sponge with chantilly cream and raspberries. “Plantation” rum. Hmm (rather than “Mmm”). My dad is Jamaican. My ancestors were slaves. Here I was, the only person of colour in the restaurant, choking on the P-word.
Why is it, despite all the diversity and inclusion awareness that followed the Black Lives Matter movement, that businesses still feel the need to use “plantation” as a selling point? Woodlands may use the term in an agricultural sense, but elsewhere – from wharfs and window dressings to weddings (J-Lo and Ben Affleck’s recent nuptials at his Georgia estate included) – it’s bandied around, fetishised even, to connote luxury, class and status.
