What Diane Abbott MP, the Shirley Chisholm of the UK, can teach Americans about politics
I just finished reading A Woman Like Me, the memoir of Diane Abbott, Britain’s first black woman to serve as a member of Parliament, elected in 1987.
For U.S. based readers, Abbott is essentially the Shirley Chisholm of UK politics, except that Chisholm’s 1968 election preceded Abbott’s by almost two decades. Notably, Abbott notes in more than one place that Chisholm’s career — as well as that of Angela Davis — inspired her own work, in terms of running for, winning, and crucially, remaining in office as a public servant.
A Woman Like Me is piercing storytelling, filled with suspense, inspiration, instructive moments, wry humor, and the magnetic personality of Abbott.
A graduate of Cambridge University in history and a precious student throughout her academic journey, Abbott spent her career in justice work and politics in multiple sectors — in public administration, in elected office, in journalism, in community-based activism and organizing.
Of these roles, she is most noted, or depending on the audience, most reviled, for her storied, impactful, still unfolding tenure as a member of Parliament. There, she emerged as an effective champion of the Windrush generation, an effective proponent of labor and immigrant rights, a reliable, persuasive voice against gender discrimination, and an able lawmaker and devotee to constituent work in her district.
What especially intrigued me is her self-identification as a black woman, an ardent internationalist and proud celebrant of her Jamaican, a socialist, a defender of civil liberties, and a kind of movement politician in close conversation with community-based organizations within and around her Hackney district in London. In conventional American discourse, such hybridities of political commitment, personal identity, and multi-issue focus do not exist. Or, if they do exist, they do not enjoy sustained, substantive media coverage.
Yet Abbott does exists, as does the wide-ranging, internationalist tradition of black radical politics. Abbott’s story, and the tradition which she inherits and extends, is one that rewards close, careful attention.
Abbott’s memoir, in many ways, introduces the black radical tradition in a way that corrects and confronts its lamentable, and at times, damnable neglect in incorporating the social reproduction insights of Marxist feminists; critiques against sexism, misogynoir, and patriarchy; the need to envision a kinship in narrative change, policy-making, and justice work that is as expansive, encompassing, and wide as humanity itself, rather than limited to the latest silver-tongued man to grab the microphone.
I especially enjoyed Abbott’s discussion of Race Today, the British anti-colonial magazine of transformative politics, cultural pride, and what was then called “political blackness” in the 1979s and 1980s. As Abbott come of age politically in London, the idea of political blackness functioned something like the way the term, people of color, or the way the term BIPOC (black, indigenous, and people of color today functions today in the United States. In the UK, though, the term named a constellation of conscience and injuries suffered by people once colonized by the British empire, specifically folks from Asian, Carribean, and African nations whose differentiated, yet not wholly different experiences converged until the banner of “political blackness”.
This invocation of blackness fell apart over time, as the various differences between the above-named groups became more salient and harder to stitch together under the both clarifying, and ambiguously named banner of political blackness. That point remaining true, it is also an insightful reminder that diverse, pluralistic populations — which is absolutely what America is as a nation of 340 million folks — thrive best when they can name the uniqueness and unifying dimensions of not only social and individual experience, historically, but of political and economic aspiration, in terms of the horizon we hope to journey towards together. Even more pithy, Abbott’s career and talent demonstrates that coalition politics are necessary for sustainable, effective justice work to take place.
Abbott‘s memoir also stands out for its compelling defense of history, moral argument, and the necessity of articulating what could be as the strategic point of emphasis for politics that can win elections, enact policy change, and crucially, shift cultural narrative and experiences towards widespread acceptance of justice, inclusion, and all the noble things so commonly applauded by those who care about a common good, a commonwealth, the like.
The left in the U.S. has an infamously difficult time naming, campaigning, organizing, and mobilizing around what it is for, rather than dedicating the chunks of its time, money, and resources describing what it opposes. That pathway, it seems to be is both uninspiring, and an unproven pathway to either heightened agency or political victory over time.
In biblical terms, it’s like hoping people will walk towards Canaan by only describing oppression experienced in Egypt. Sooner of later, such descriptions, helpful as they may be in the right amounts, must be met and exceeded by stories and strategies rather how we can make it to Canaan, to an achievable promised land, to a place flowing with milk and honey.
It is for this reason that I prefer, on political and theological grounds, to talk about socialism and solidarity economics, rather than stopping at the opposition level of decrying wealth inequality, income disparities, and unequal pay for equal work.
Inspired by Abbott’s account, with it’s straightforward, substantive point, we need an affirmative, appealing story of how power-sharing and equality across gender identity is a more beautiful, pleasant, and just way to do community, alongside the also needed naming of how hollow, and harmful, patriarchy and sexism are.
A politics that only names problems, or only purports to save democracy is not an effective get out the vote strategy. It’s not great for morale or base-building either. However, a problem solving politics, where challenges and possible solutions come forward, may get us further towards the democracy, the justice, the many-sided belonging that we need and deserve.