A Letter from André: Love & Hate.

Driving down the M1, something started to permeate my consciousness, above the regular rhythm of cars, lorries and service stations.

I noticed that heading south, every bridge was plastered with various combinations of the Union Jack and St George's Cross.

"How curious" I thought to myself. I'd not been keeping up with the news recently, and assumed that I must have missed some major sporting event that was happening that weekend. My heart swelled with a little nationalistic pride; whatever it was, I hoped that we did well.

As we approached London, the flags intensified. Now with vans and cars full of English flags streaming gloriously out of the windows. All headed towards our capital. I remember feeling how amazing it was how sport could unify a country in troubled times.

We'd arranged to go into London to meet some friends for dinner. So as usual we parked up at our favourite spot in the suburbs, and jumped on the Northern line to head in. When we were on the tube, again I saw many people with the red and white draped over their shoulders. But the atmosphere was strange. It was muted, quiet and heavy. Not at all what I would expect around an England match. "I guess we must have lost" I thought to myself.

Of course at dinner my friends revealed the truth to us. That we had inadvertently walked into the aftermath of the Unite the Kingdom rally. A huge protest against many things, but with anti-immigration at its heart.

This considerably changed the context for the journey home, which was a very different experience.

With London being such a multicultural city there was a really strange juxtaposition to see people on the tube going about their daily lives; heading out for their evening plans, alongside those who had just been protesting their very presence, maybe their very existence in this country.

I thought to myself what a strange experience it had been, that earlier today our flag had felt like a symbol of unity for me, and that now it had become a symbol of such division. I still can't think of another nation’s flag that can inspire such polar opposites.

Of course when I got home I looked up images and videos of the rally, and like many of us were quite astounded by the aerial footage of the protest, with apparently over one hundred thousand people flooding the streets. All protesting immigration. All protesting people... like me?

It is a strange feeling to not be sure if you belong. I'm a second generation immigrant in the UK. My parents both arrived here in the 1970s, and without doubt gained a lot from being here. But at the same time I hope they contributed at least as much as they gave. They both worked in the healthcare sector, and my dad later set up a business that employed hundreds of people at its peak. And as for me, I've never known any other home.

It reminds me of the times following the Brexit referendum, when suddenly for the first time in my life, I felt unwelcome. I remember at the time being driven out of a country pub just by the intensity of stares and silence that greeted my arrival. I remember feeling incredible anger within me. Injustice. Even hatred for those that I felt had rejected me and caused me pain.

Many years later as I reflect on this, I have learned that it's very easy to reject those that reject us. It's easy to hate the haters. It's easy to throw pain back at those who cause us pain.

But I'm reminded of a quote from MLK:

"Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that"

And so this time I feel differently. Because I've come to understand that when you sit with your anger long enough, you find out that her real name is grief.

There are a lot of people hurting in the world right now. All for good reason. And it's natural for them to feel angry. It's natural for them to feel hurt. And it's understandable that many choose to redirect that pain and anger at others. Especially when those flames are fanned and manipulated by individuals with something to gain.

This brings me to another one of my favourite quotes:

"Pain that isn't transformed, gets transmitted"

It's easy for anger to beget anger. For hate to beget hate.

It's much harder to sit with my feelings and understand that those who reject me are also in pain. Throwing more anger, hate and pain out into the world won't be the answer. It can't be the answer.

As humans we all experience laughter, happiness and joy. And as humans we all experience tears, sadness and grief. Our emotional journey unites us. It gives us all common ground to start from. If only we can open ourselves to hear the message.

Open House is a place set up by immigrants. Like I mentioned above, I am a second generation immigrant. Regine is an immigrant. Ab is an immigrant. Even Pippa spent the majority of her adult life abroad. And we all call this beautiful valley our home.

In these difficult times we can assure you that everyone is welcome at Open House, no matter what you believe. The only thing that is not tolerated is intolerance itself.

There's enough hate in this world. Let's try and fill it with a bit more love.