aspire, not to have more... but to be more

Raihan Alfaradhi, the LSE Students' Union Anti-Racism Officer 2005-06, offers a personal insight into growing up in London

I can still recall the feeling when I saw it close up. Born and brought up in Stepney, I had always been able to see the Canary Wharf tower in the distance. A magnificent structure, it dwarfed other buildings and marked how far London's Docklands had come in recent years. But as I stood at its base, aged about eight, and looked up, a thought dawned which has never left me since.

I didn’t remember, moments before birth, choosing who my parents would be, or where I would be born. I didn’t choose what I would look like, or the colour of my skin. All the circumstances of my birth were completely out of my hands. And yet those very things were a cause of contention for others.

Life would turn out for many to be unfairly peppered with obstacles, arising from background or appearance.

I grew up in the East End, which has always been one of the poorest areas of London. Initially this was due to the undesirability of living in the direction of the prevailing wind from the city centre in the days of open fires; later because of mass low paid employment in the docks and related industries.

Throughout history, the area has absorbed waves of immigrants who have each added a new dimension to the culture of the area. A testament to this is the Brick Lane mosque - the building was formerly a synagogue, and before that a Catholic church; having started its life as a Protestant church for Huguenots.

However, the East End has also been a focus for racism in Britain. As far back as the anti-Catholic Gordon riots in 1780, racist events have marred the area, with each wave of immigrants seemingly inducing a new threat.

Famous examples include the anti-Semitic Fascist march in 1936 and anti-Asian violence in 1993. I was fortunate enough not to experience most of these problems, though grew up hearing stories of the gang fights that occurred on the very streets I played football on.

This violent history became merely anecdotal, yet for some reason, troubled me greatly. I  looked at the community around me. Social problems were hitting hard.

Drugs were one of the biggest, and this led to further problems, compounded by one another. These were left to the communities themselves to solve - it was stigmatised as a problem of the 'ethnic-minorities', of their own making. That it could perhaps be a wider social problem needing wider attention, and had hit the communities due to them being poor rather than 'ethnic-minorities', did not occur in the minds of most.

It was perhaps due to all these experiences that I decided that I could not be a spectator. I went to school in the City, and had a somewhat privileged education. I decided to help tutor others, and set up a mentoring service with friends. I got involved with a community organisation which ran youth centres and crime/drug prevention programmes. I was determined to make a change and lend a helping hand as best I could.

This is perhaps also why I stood for Student Union Anti-Racism Officer at the LSE. Having previously been involved with a range of societies, I realised there were a lot of students, especially international ones, who did not get involved for some reason.

To tackle these issues, my aim this year is to actively engage all students, regardless of their background, with the Union.

As I look up now at the Canary Wharf tower, the thought that came to me returns. It's now one of optimism for the future, having seen what people can achieve when they put their minds to it.

However, this has grown along with me. I have realised that if we all do our bit, we won't only be looking up at magnificent structures to see what makes our nation great, but we will be able to see that greatness in each and everyone around us.

This article first appeared in LSE Magazine, winter 2005; see www.lse.ac.uk