Iechiea Cheryl Tenyue | Taking stock 4 generations on: What do we do now?

My grandparents arrived in Britain in the 1950s. Descendants of Africans trafficked to the Americas; they answered the call to help rebuild a country recovering from a world war. They came believing that hard work would bring opportunity, stability and a better future for their children.

They moved through different statuses across history — enslaved, emancipated, colonial subjects, and eventually British citizens. Yet, many African people by race still question whether they are fully accepted despite generations of contribution. Nearly 80 years later, pogroms and racism remind us that the question of belonging remains.

They faced open and unapologetic racism, being called names, denied housing and employment opportunities, and made to feel unwelcome in a country they were taught to see as the motherland. Many arrived intending to stay only a few years but, as families were built, roots were established. Others faced ghettoisation, unemployment and limited opportunities that made returning home increasingly difficult.

Today, my family is four generations deep in Britain. Looking back over that journey, I find myself asking: what do we do now?

The challenges facing African people by race in Britain have not disappeared; they have been rebranded. The racism my grandparents experienced was overt and widespread. Today, many encounter it through workplace exclusion — being allocated non-substantial work, excluded from decision-making, overlooked for opportunities while others are promoted through organisational hierarchies and invited into senior spaces. Even institutions that educate the brightest Africans by race often lack representation in leadership. Alongside this, pogroms and reform marches send a clear message to many: Britain is for the British.

Some still debate whether racism exists despite evidence, lived experience and visible anti-immigration activism. With a professional career spanning almost four decades across the private, public, charity, health and well-being, government and media sectors, I have worked alongside people from many backgrounds. One observation has remained consistent: African people by race are often among the most qualified in the room, yet are too frequently overlooked for promotion, given the most difficult assignments or denied the support needed to succeed.

Many in our community will recognise that experience. We are encouraged to work harder, gain more qualifications and continually prove ourselves, often at the expense of our mental and physical health. Yet the finish line keeps moving. Is individual effort alone enough to secure collective progress? That is not to deny our achievements. Despite racism and discrimination, our resilience has delivered remarkable progress.

My grandparents arrived as skilled workers. My grandfather, a master carpenter, worked for Southwark Council in London for 30 years. Today, my family has produced three generations of university graduates. Across Britain, African people by race are doctors, teachers, business owners, academics, engineers and leaders in their communities. We have every right to be proud of that progress. But pride alone is not a strategy.

I sometimes wonder whether we have spent so much time surviving that we have not stopped to assess where we are and where we want to be. We have become skilled at responding to challenges, but have we developed a long-term plan for our future? That is the conversation I believe we now need to have.

Recently, Barbados Prime Minister Mia Mottley argued that the legacy of slavery continues to shape the lives and opportunities of African people by race today. Whether discussing reparations, justice or equality, her wider message is that history matters because it helps us understand the present and prepare for the future. Understanding our history provides the map to guide us forward.

Marcus Garvey famously said, “A people without the knowledge of past history is like a tree without roots”.

My grandparents survived. My parents endured. My generation is breaking the cycle. The question now is what the next generation will build. The future requires strategy.

Communities that thrive despite hardship share one habit, they plan for generations, not election cycles. What could African people by race achieve over the next 30 years if we committed to a few shared priorities?

Education and entrepreneurship must remain central – not only for our children but for adults too. Many were denied opportunities through educational inequalities and the sub-schooling scandals that disadvantaged black children. It is never too late to return to education, gain new skills or change direction. Investing three to five years in learning can transform the next 30.

We must become more confident talking about money. Financial literacy, saving, investing and business ownership should be everyday conversations in our homes and communities. Wealth creation is about securing future generations, not just individual success. We must also address mental health. Too many African people by race carry the weight of stress, discrimination and unresolved trauma in silence. Strength is not pretending everything is fine; it is asking for help when needed. We need that conversation now more than ever.

Most importantly, we must strengthen our sense of community. Ubuntu teaches that our humanity is connected – when one person succeeds, we all benefit, when one struggles, we all have a responsibility to help. Governments, policies and public opinion will change, but our responsibility to ourselves and future generations must not. We cannot control every barrier, only how we prepare our children, support one another, and plan.

Taking stock is about deciding what comes next. The best time to start may have been when our grandparents arrived. The next best time is now.

Iechiea Cheryl Tenyue is a former government secretary in Antigua and Barbuda, an HR professional, broadcaster, journalist and well-being therapist. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com