Original subtitles

Hi, Leone here.

The girl you lot started following last week.

The day it was announced,

without permission or pre-warning by every media outlet out there,

that our baby would be making history.

The girl who then tried to disappear, come off-line,

enjoy my pregnancy with my partner in peace,

but who you won't let, because I am the girl

responsible for tipping the UK into a white minority country.

And what difference does it make, really?

If racism isn't a thing any more, then what are you so scared of?

I mean, have the number of Caribbean restaurants by you skyrocketed?

Does the national anthem have a dancehall beat?

I mean, and if so, is that such a bad thing?

What do you think we're planning?

What you did?

So, I am still here in the clinic. I haven't got my scan.

We're having a girl, if anybody cares.

But I'm now stuck here because some of you found out where I was,

and you got that mad that it's now not safe for me to leave.

And I just keep thinking, "What a waste of everyone's time."

And since the police don't seem to be doing anything,

and since I've been hidden back here seemingly to protect myself,

I have come online to issue a warning.

Leave me the fuck alone.

Leave, leave the hospital right now.

You'll... You'll not find me, you'll not hurt me, you do not scare me.

And for those of you who won't heed the caution,

the men that have travelled here with tiki torches and pitchforks

who care more about statistics and demographics

than goddamn human rights...

..story time.

I was eight or nine years old...

..my nan's caravan, Herne Bay.

The weather was...

..which means it is the last half term before Christmas,

and the final week the park is open before it shuts for the winter.

The fact that it's opposite Haven Park with an indoor pool and a wave

machine was all that mattered, though.

Some people live in the park for the full eight months of the year.

Grandma was one.

And Teddy Peters, in the caravan two down, was another.

He flashed me once, and though it didn't bother me,

Grandma told him firmly that if he ever even looked in my direction

again, she would drag him to the police station herself.

Now, Grandma's big - Irish blood.

I was certain she meant it.

So me and my favourite cousin, Charlene,

we're running back from the Haven in the rain with hair already wet,

so as quick as we can,

kind of struggling to see and scream laughing all the way,

and as soon as we get in,

Grandma wraps us that both up the big towels that tells us to put our

pyjamas on, and puts chips in the oven so that we can eat

in front of the TV. And then there's a bang at the door.

And it is Teddy Peters.

And he looks mad.

And he looks at me and he points and he shouts, "Keep those kids

"away from my flower beds!"

And I'm looking at Grandma.

I'm wondering why she's not dragging him down to the police station.

And then he turns and he leaves.

And I'm not about to be tarred so easily, so I scream after him,

"No one went near your stupid flowers."

Which wasn't a lie,

because I couldn't remember exactly which gardens we'd cut across,

but the cheek earned me a clip around the ear,

because according to Grandma, under no circumstances were children

allowed to answer back to adults. Ever.

Even if said adult touched his penis whilst said child

innocently hunted for crabs nearby.

And then he's gone.

Back in his car, back to the city for the rest of the year.

And Grandma goes on, "What have I told you

"about staying away from that man?"

And I sulk, because I wasn't told to do anything,

because I haven't done anything.

Grandma sees my upset and she reasons,

"Mr Peters is angry because he got caught having an affair,

"black woman, got her pregnant. His wife found out and left him,

"and he's been left with nothing.

"But he gets to see the baby at weekends, so..."

Then Grandma concludes, "We, as women, must always do our best

"to stay away from angry men."

That makes me sulk again.

I wondered briefly if he's always had a thing about black women

and if that's what that thing at the beach was about, but not for long,

because I truly... I don't care.

The day before we go home was the one sunny day at the park.

Me and Charlene are outside playing tennis.

I'm Venus. She's Serena.

We're 15 love, and then Charlene hits the ball

so hard I have to duck.

It shoots straight past me and smacks Teddy Peters' caravan hard,

completely destroying a cluster of dandelions in the process.

I freeze from fear, looking at the ball in the flower bed, thinking,

"Maybe that is the garden we cut across,"

but I shake the memory quick because I don't want to ever be wrong,

especially to him, so... And then I see Charlene

going to collect the ball.

And I shout at her, but she reassures me,

"It's empty - he's left."

So, she picks up the ball and then...

Inexplicably, she goes up the steps and peers into his window.

And this is just unnecessarily brazen -

what if he came back in the night?

Sure, his car wasn't there, but what if he parked in the Haven?

I shout at her again,

but she holds up a finger as though instructing me to wait.

And then she just runs back. Straight past me into the caravan.

I asked her for the ball, which she drops, and she doesn't say anything.

Game over.

And whilst I'm wondering what made her so scared, I suddenly notice...

..Teddy Peters doesn't really have any flowers in his garden.

Not to be concerned about, really.

And then suddenly Grandma bursts outside, down the steps,

holding tight to the rail to support the unusual speed

that rocks the porch.

She shifts side to side as she hurries after Charlene,

back towards the destroyed flowers, and I follow behind,

cautious, ready to explain how everything's an accident.

But Grandma's already shifting through the spare keys,

and I begin to worry about what we've done.

What we've broke.

I mean, the ball, it did hit the side hard.

Maybe it made an ornament fall.

But was Teddy Peters the type to have ornaments?

And then I look at the rest of his flower bed

and conclude that he'd probably say that he did

and he'd probably say whatever had fallen was sentimental,

just for spite.

And then Grandma's unlocking the door and I... I braced myself.

And as it opens...

..I think I see her recoil as dozens of flies escape,

like those trapped in the dustbin huts in the summer,

before she sends Charlene back to call the site manager.

"No, no, an ambulance."

Now Grandma never does anything at speed,

and now suddenly even her voice is hurried.

She covers her mouth with her sleeve and she goes inside...

..and I take a deep breath. I don't know why.

But when a few moments later, a smell hits me and

I have to take a deeper breath, I regret it.

I think I might be sick.

What smells like that?

And now I'm thinking, "I shouldn't have shouted at Teddy Peters.

"If he was sad, if I made him sadder."

There were all these stories around the caravan park

about what happened to people, to men who got too sad,

but why hide the car?

Did he park it in the Haven car park to be left alone?

Did he warn us about the flowers to keep us away?

Be unseen?

I was scared, but I implicitly trusted Grandma

to make everything OK. She was good at that.

And then I'm thinking, "How much

"money do I have in my piggy bank at home?

"Do I have enough money to buy Teddy any flowers?"

And I'm thinking about how he might smile at me,

when I give them to him

and apologise for that silly thing that happened at the beach.

He was just starting to crush on black women,

and he didn't know how to deal with it.

And before I finish concocting my perfect forgiveness scenario,

Grandma almost falls backwards

outside, holding laundry,

or blankets.

Did he have an accident?

The smell gets stronger.

Grandma holds them tight and shouts, "Call an ambulance!"

And now I'm really scared that I'm in so much more trouble.

And I stutter, "Charlene's doing it."

And Grandma is...

She's down the steps on the lawn and she falls down to her knees,

and I think, "I bet that grass is wet."

She lays the blanket down and inside...

..truly I don't believe it, at first,

because, well, that's not what they look like.

And Grandma, she said that he only has her on the weekends,

and why are there maggots?

And I screamed.

It's not a high-pitched scream as I would have thought,

but...but words, actual words form and punch out

at her demanding, "Why did you not drag him to the police station,

"like you promised you would?"

I think the baby lived.

I think, I don't really...

I don't really know.

So you see...

..I have seen the worst.

I've seen the worst of what people, men like you, can do.

And I have learned we have to look after ourselves.

Because you might be mad at me for changing the make up

of your precious little line, but I am beyond angry

that it's taken this long for it to happen.

How many other babies like Teddy Peters' baby,

black babies, children, women, men, have you tried to...

..stop?

And have we let, because...

"..Stay away from angry men."

Only I'm not staying away any more.

Maybe you should stay away.

Stay the fuck away.

I have an aerosol can, and a flip lighter,

and enough surgical tape to fashion quite a powerful blowtorch,

just in case.

But I really hope you listened when I told to leave.

Because we will be making history.

Finally.

By just living.

And you will not stop us any more.