Black, Brummie and proud: a walking tour of the real Handsworth | Birmingham holidays
‘The people’s champion” is how Benjamin Zephaniah is fondly remembered in his home town of Handsworth, Birmingham. The words, spray-painted in fiery-red ballooned letters, leap out of a colourful mural that wraps around one side of a local Sons of Rest building, a place where retired war veterans once met and socialised. To the side looms an image of the late poet and writer, his face full of expression and thought. For a moment, it feels as if he’s there with you.
A couple of years earlier, and he may well have been. “Seriously, you could come into Handsworth Park and he’d just be walking through, just leisurely. Benjamin, he’d sit with you, he had time for you,” says Marcia Dunkley, one of the founders of the organisation Black Heritage Walks Network, which commissioned the mural.
It’s a chalky blue-skied August day in Birmingham, and while many of the city’s residents have flocked to the centre for the annual Caribbean music and food festival, I’m on a walking tour in Handsworth, the neighbourhood where much of the creative legacy of Birmingham’s Caribbean population was first felt.
The tour, launched in 2018 by the Black Heritage Walks Network, explores the history and legacy of the influx of Caribbean migrants who settled in Handsworth after the second world war.
The walk largely takes place along Handsworth’s Soho Road, a bustling high street north-west of the city centre where elaborate saris and glistening wedding jewellery spill out of shops and on to pavements. Fifty years ago, the high street, now dominated by south Asian traders, wore a different face.
“Black-owned, Black-owned, Black-owned,” says Dunkley, pointing at an array of mismatched buildings that were once the nightclubs, restaurants, law firms and banks that made up the Black economy in Birmingham, after thousands migrated to the neighbourhood from the Caribbean in the 1950s and 60s.
On any given day, they are buildings that might not warrant a second glance. Take Garvey House – a neglected and disused Victorian house, with a faded white painted front and boarded-up windows. Named after Jamaica’s national hero Marcus Garvey, the space once brimmed with life, offering temporary accommodation to waves of migrants arriving for the first time in the city. The only remnant of its past life is a faint sign above the door.
Black Heritage Walking Network was born out of the ambition of three history buffs, frustrated by Birmingham’s lack of recognition as a city steeped in Black history and heritage. Since creating the Madiba tour in Handsworth, named after Nelson Mandela’s famous visit to the area (Madiba was his Xhosa clan name) the company has developed a plethora of walks, exhibitions, and educational workshops that highlight the history and legacy of the African-Caribbean community in Birmingham.
“People who want to know about Bob Marley and Malcolm X and so on, if you don’t tell them, then they’ll just go to London to find it … People are used to the culture in London and having access to all of that at their fingertips, which means they don’t want to come to Birmingham,” says Dawn Carr, who co-founded the network.
Along Soho Road, unkempt and derelict buildings are contrasted with an array of colourful murals, commissioned over the years, to highlight the neighbourhood’s diverse and evolving identity. On Soho Bridge, a hand-painted mural shows Strikers in Saris to commemorate a group of south Asian women who famously protested poor working conditions at the Grunwick film processing factory in the late 1970s.
Close to the mural of Benjamin Zephaniah in Handsworth Park, is a brightly painted tribute of 13 Birmingham-born reggae artists that Dunkley brings to life by playing Steel Pulse’s Handsworth Revolution and UB40’s Food for Thought out of a portable speaker.
Where the rich cultural history of Handsworth escapes its outward appearance, Dunkley’s evocative storytelling brings it to life. Her passion for uncovering the lost history of Birmingham streets pours out in theatrical re-enactments and poised reflections on the ways we are taught the past.
While narrating the rich cultural and economic life of old Handsworth, Dunkley is careful not to gloss over the more painful realities of the racism and brutality that marked many residents’ lives.
Remembering that the Black and Irish communities ran 24-hour blues parties hosted in the interlinked cellars of houses along Soho Road known as shebeens, she’s quick to remind us that this was often the only nightlife available to residents, who risked returning “blue and beaten” if they ventured into the city centre.
In the same vein, we are frequently reminded of the strength and resilience of the community. “What you had were elders of the community … who would literally stand vigilante along here,” says Marcia at the edge of a road leading to the city centre.
“They stopped the youths from going down there. But they also stopped the neo-Nazis, the skinheads, coming up here, because that’s what was happening. Big clashes there. It was murderous. It was brutal.”
Some of the most painful accounts of the difficult reality for Handsworth residents are discussed outside the austere redbrick building with tall, narrow windows and stone lintels that was once the local police station. Then called Thornhill Road police station, Dunkley recalls a passage from Benjamin Zephaniah’s autobiography, where he describes a room with dreadlocks pinned to the wall, kept by police as trophies after alleged brutality.
Walking tours can at times feel like lectures, only with heavier legs and a burgeoning craving to sit down. On this tour, Marcia keeps us alert by making us work. At every twist and turn in the narrative, she interrogates the group for answers, sparking debate and conversation.
The tour ends at Handsworth leisure centre, the unexpected site of a visit from Nelson Mandela in October 1993. When news spread of his visit, residents of Handsworth flocked in droves to the sports hall– some even camping out the night before – to hear him speak. According to Dunkley, it was a visit city leaders fervently tried to block, fearing it might spark unrest in the part of Birmingham they referred to as the “ghetto”.
“But where’s the statue? Where’s the narration board?” says Dunkley, voicing her frustration at the lack of any physical commemoration to mark the event, a theme she reflects on throughout the tour. “Where’s the celebration?”
Black Heritage Walks Network offers guided tours all year round, weather permitting. Tickets can be bought through its website and start from £17 for adults and £5 for children under 12
