Recognizing African Heritage

The International Day for People of African Descent exists to recognise and honour the contributions, strength, and resilience of people of African heritage across the globe. It is a day to affirm dignity in the face of centuries of dehumanisation, to celebrate culture despite ongoing erasure, and to acknowledge that racism didn’t end with legislation—it simply changed form.

But at Anah Project, we know visibility does not always bring safety. Nor does it bring justice.

Being visible—as a woman, as a Black woman, as a survivor—is not always empowering. Sometimes it’s dangerous. Sometimes it invites scrutiny instead of support. And too often, visibility is confused with progress.

This day invites us to dig deeper into the realities of what it means to be seen—but not protected.

The Performance of Inclusion

In recent years, there has been a growing effort across sectors to increase the visibility of Black people. We’ve seen campaigns spotlighting Black voices, media pushing for representation, and institutions acknowledging historic wrongs. But visibility on its own is not transformation.

For many Black and minoritised women:

• Visibility comes with expectations: To educate others, to remain calm under pressure, to represent an entire community.
• Visibility is limited by stereotypes: The “strong Black woman” trope, the exoticisation of culture, the silencing of pain.
• Visibility often lacks substance: Being featured in promotional material is not the same as being included in decision-making, policy development, or funding allocation.

Representation matters—but without resources, structural change, and accountability, it risks becoming another performance.

What’s Beneath the Surface?

For women of African descent navigating abuse, violence, or control, these issues become especially sharp. Our experience shows us that:

• Black women are frequently not believed when they disclose abuse.
• Some are over-policed and under-protected, treated as perpetrators rather than survivors.
• Others fear speaking out due to cultural stigma, immigration insecurity, or past experiences of institutional racism.
• Black survivors are less likely to be referred to specialist services—and less likely to be offered trauma-informed care.

Visibility in leaflets or social media campaigns does not fix any of this. What’s needed is sustained investment in support that understands both the trauma of abuse and the impact of racial injustice.

The Global Roots of Local Inequality

To understand the lived experiences of people of African descent in the UK, we must acknowledge the global systems that brought us here. The transatlantic slave trade, colonial rule, and racial capitalism created a world in which Black people were systematically devalued.

These systems didn’t disappear. They evolved.

Today, the descendants of enslaved or colonised peoples are overrepresented in low-paid work, underrepresented in leadership, more likely to face housing insecurity, and more vulnerable to gendered violence. These are not individual failures—they are structural outcomes.

The fact that so many Black women face these overlapping barriers is not coincidental. It is the result of histories that have never been fully confronted—and policies that continue to ignore complexity.

Naming Harm Without Shame

For Black women of African descent, it can be difficult to speak openly about abuse. Cultural expectations, fear of bringing shame to the family, and the pressure to protect one’s community from external racism can all play a role.

As a result, many women suffer in silence, unsure where to turn.

At Anah Project, we’ve worked with women who were told by professionals that their experiences were “just a cultural difference” or “a misunderstanding.” Others were discouraged from reporting due to assumptions about their credibility.

These responses are not just inadequate—they are harmful. They reflect the long-standing pattern of dismissing Black women’s pain, erasing their agency, and excusing violence in the name of culture.

Naming this is not an attack on culture. It is a defence of human dignity.

Creating Real Safety

What would real safety look like for women of African descent?

It would mean:

• Survivors being believed, without having to prove themselves more than others.
• Services offering culturally appropriate care, in multiple languages, led by people who understand the intersections of race, gender and trauma.
• Justice systems that recognise both individual harm and the structural conditions that make that harm more likely.
• Policymaking shaped not by assumption, but by the lived experience of Black women.

Safety is not just about protection from violence. It is about access to power, to support, to opportunity—and to healing.

A Time to Listen

The International Day for People of African Descent is not just a celebration. It’s a reminder. That while African culture has shaped music, art, food, resistance movements, and intellectual thought worldwide—people of African descent still face disproportionate levels of harm, under-investment, and social punishment.

Listening to this truth is essential. But listening must be followed by action.

At Anah Project, we continue to advocate for survivors who are made to feel invisible in systems that were not designed for them. We believe that meaningful visibility comes not from being looked at, but from being listened to, supported, and resourced.

Reflection Points

As this day is observed, we invite you to reflect gently:

• What does visibility mean to you—and to those whose voices remain excluded?
• In your community or workplace, are people of African descent represented, or truly included?
• How can visibility be used not just for awareness, but for structural change?

Dignity begins with recognition. But it cannot end there.