On June 7, 2020, my hometown tossed racism into the river. Literally. Every time I watch the footage of Edward Colston’s statue being pulled down and pushed into Bristol harbour by the heroic Black Lives Matter protesters, I feel the same overwhelming surge of pride. This is a very new thing to me. You see, Bristol may be where I was born, but it hasn’t always felt like where I belong. For all its sex, drugs and trip-hop’n’roll; it has never been as liberal as Banksy would make you believe. For one, you couldn’t walk through the city centre without encountering several commemorations of slave trader Edward Colston. There’s Colston Hall, Colston Girls School, Colston Hill, Colston Street, Colston Road… not to mention one tasteless bronze monument of his li...
