Silence is Violence: Why We Can’t Afford to Stand Down in the Fight Against Racism by Mel Nair Mason

“Silence is not just absence; it’s a form of violence. In a world demanding justice, our voices are our most potent weapons.”

Earlier this month, at the InterInvest LGBT+ Equality & Inclusion Black History Month event in partnership with the Diversity Project, I experienced something transformative—a collective awakening and a seismic call for a more just and equitable future.

This wasn’t just an event; it was a movement, daring us to confront a long-standing reality: silence is violence. To remain silent is to betray the hopes of those who suffer. We must use our privilege to create change

We took a hard look at what it truly means to see racism, addressing both its overt and covert forms, and tackling not just the obvious but also the hidden ways it permeates our systems.

All the ‘Isms’

Central to this dialogue was the concept of intersectionality—the various “isms,” such as race, gender, sexuality, disability, and class, colliding and amplifying (and complicating!) the barriers faced by individuals within marginalised communities.

It’s about understanding that real life doesn’t come in neat packages—no one fits perfectly into a single identity box. Think of it this way: we all navigate the world differently, but for some, the journey is uphill, riddled with roadblocks others can’t even imagine.

Take, for example, a Black woman from a working-class background. Her hurdles aren’t just about race or gender; they’re the sum of race, gender, and class. She’s up against biases that consistently underestimate her potential, restrict her access to opportunities, and present unique challenges that often remain invisible to others. The factors shaping her path are distinctly different from those influencing a white woman or a Black man. Her reality is layered, nuanced, and complex.

Intersectionality doesn’t stop there. It affects how we experience the workplace, public spaces, and everyday life. Black women and women of colour, for instance, face a unique form of discrimination known as misogynoir—a double bind of racial and gender bias. And what about women from Muslim or Sikh backgrounds? Their faith often layers additional bias, affecting job opportunities and social acceptance.

Now, consider a queer Black person with a disability navigating a world that rarely accommodates all their needs. Healthcare systems, social services, and workplaces are often designed with blind spots, making daily life harder and isolating those already at society’s margins.

Religion and sexuality often clash, pulling individuals in opposing directions. Imagine a queer person in a conservative religious community or a Muslim navigating a predominantly white LGBTQ+ space—facing rejection from both. These overlapping biases create extra layers of scrutiny and stereotyping, particularly for those practicing faiths outside the mainstream, such as Sikhs, Muslims, Hindus, and Jews in Britain.

Confronting Racism, Head On

The segment on the UK’s long and often glossed-over history with racism was deeply emotional and eye-opening for me, as it was boldly placed front and centre.

The speakers and panellists invited us into their world with unflinching honesty and rawness that shattered any rehearsed narratives. They didn’t hold back or soften the truths, nor did they sugarcoat the harsh realities of racism in Britain. Instead, they laid bare their real, lived pain.

One story struck me hardest: a haunting account of the New Cross Fire tragedy. The speaker had planned to be there, surrounded by friends. Instead, I listened to her voice quivering with the weight of devastation, reliving the horror. Friends who had gathered in celebration were engulfed in flames—some lost their lives, their dreams extinguished before they could take flight. Others survived, bearing scars on their bodies and in their souls—a living testament to the trauma endured.

For her, the fire was a visceral reminder of a brutal truth—that lives are valued unequally. The vibrant spirits of her friends had been reduced to statistics in a world all too willing to look away. In her eyes, I saw anguish and helplessness, knowing that their deaths had become a haunting reminder of the ongoing battle for dignity and justice.

As I listened, my heart broke. This was not just her pain; it was a collective wound, a scar etched deep in Black British history.

“Working on Your Whiteness”

Dismantling bias requires courage, and the call to “work on your whiteness” rang loud and clear. Confronting privilege, especially white privilege, is not an accusation—it’s a responsibility. We spoke openly about white fragility, the discomfort that often accompanies discussions about race, and the need for white individuals to lean into these conversations, not away from them.

When was the last time you worked on your whiteness? This isn’t a one-off question but a constant reflection we must hold up as a mirror to ourselves, particularly in professional spaces where diversity and inclusion should be the norm, not the exception.

This room was not a place for excuses but for accountability, reminding us that information is power—and we need to wield that power to enact change, starting with uncomfortable introspection and meaningful action.

Prejudice + Power = Racism

The discussions illuminated another essential truth: racism is not merely prejudice. Racism is prejudice plus power. It’s the structure that allows one group to systematically impose its biases on others. Racism has layers—economic, social, political—and they all intertwine to maintain a status quo that marginalises and excludes. The fight against racism isn’t just a battle against biased beliefs; it’s a fight to dismantle these entrenched systems of power.

Being anti-racist is a daily commitment, not a title to wear at events. It’s a challenge to consistently push ourselves to recognise, confront, and counteract these structures in every environment, from the boardroom to the streets.

‘I Am Because We Are’

One of the most enlightening conversations focused on a critical distinction: true change isn’t achieved in isolation. Change arises from collective action, from people who are willing to stand together. Anti-racism, inclusivity, and equality aren’t goals to achieve alone; they’re collective commitments that require all of us to step up and support one another.

Coming from South Africa, I understand this intimately. Community is life. Ubuntu—a concept rooted in African philosophy meaning “I am because we are”—was the first language I learned. In South Africa, we are born to a collective heartbeat; we don’t just belong to ourselves; we belong to each other! This shapes how we move through the world.

Anti-racism work is no different. To build a world that is truly inclusive, we must carry each other forward, knowing that we rise, heal, and transform together.

This Wasn’t Just a Moment; It Was a Movement

As the evening concluded, I felt an urgent call to action that transcends the usual “event takeaway.” This was not a one-time gathering; it was a catalyst in the fight against racism and all forms of exclusion. For everyone in that room, the question is not “What did you learn?” but “What will you do next?”

Let’s be clear: anti-racism is not passive. It’s not a corporate checkbox or a feel-good title. It’s a muscle we strengthen every day, a fire we keep stoking, and a battle we keep fighting. We’re not here to be comfortable; we’re here to create change. There’s no place for silence, no room for complacency.

To those in that room, thank you for bringing your whole selves, your stories, and your strength. Thank you for pushing boundaries and igniting our collective awareness. We have work to do, and now, more than ever, we have the clarity and determination to do it.

“Stay loud, stay relentless, and remember: this movement is a force that won’t be silenced“