Seeing and being the visualised 'other': humanitarian representations and hybridity in African diaspora identities
If we are to assume the Shakespearean platitude that 'the eyes are the windows of the soul', then it is not beyond our comprehension that visual images used by NGOs (non-governmental organisations) in their advertisements are carefully curated ideas over who or what is ‘seen’, and more importantly ‘how’ it is seen, and for whom. In today’s progressively changing and competitive media and communications environment, humanitarianism is now a profitable enterprise in our visual-as-currency economy.
On our television screens, in our social media applications and unsolicited pop-up email advertisements, and even among the rumpled pile of outdated magazines in the doctor’s waiting room, the public faces of the international aid and relief industry are seldom out of sight. Whether it is malnourished pot-bellied toddlers wearing western football memorabilia of seasons past, a despondent refugee mother in a displacement camp, or a vast horde of shaven-headed, undifferentiated Black and Brown masses in conflict zones, these images are the aesthetic currencies of commercialised suffering employed by humanitarian organisations to brand themselves and their strategic ambitions, and imbue western audiences with a philanthropic disposition.
Visual representations are central to – and orbit around – the phenomenon and work of humanitarianism. When we think of humanitarian work, we often visualise much of the non-western, Black and Brown world. As image producers and disseminators, these organisations set the visual tone within which certain people and places are defined and comprehended – indeed, who (and what) they ‘are’, ‘aren’t’ and ‘ought to be’.
Much critical and mainstream international development literature has critiqued the different ways in which NGO representations affect audience’ perceptions, knowledge and dispositions of distant ‘others’. Yet, much of this literature presents white hegemonic interpretations of British audiences of NGO representations, including visions of a singular community of people who are assumed self-evidently white, and seemingly devoid of racial differentiation. These studies further assume audiences interpret and are impacted by such images in largely undifferentiated ways, i.e. audiences do not understand the perspectives of Black African audiences and how they interpret these images. What is it like for those who are ‘seeing’, while also ‘being’, the visualised ‘other’?
Using Nigerians as a case study, my research, as discussed in my Identities article, 'Seeing and Being the Visualised 'Other': Humanitarian Representations and hybridity in African Diaspora identities', reveals how Nigerian subject-making is relative to humanitarian representations. This is most pronounced in the paradoxical relationships that Nigerians have with these images, by their simultaneous resentment for and identification with humanitarian representations. These oxymoronic, 'harmoniously-conflicting' relationships are managed by Nigerians adopting and (re)appropriating new, alternative and preferential racialised identities, or ‘personae’, such as the ‘taking up’ of Afro-Caribbean identities that ‘downplay’ their Nigerian and/or African-ness. Others acquire ‘ambassadorial’ and self-celebratory identities, such as 'unapologetically Black' or 'fiercely Nigerian,' to emphasise their ethno-racial subjectivities.
These Nigerian self-iterations are strategically mobilised in their attempt to make ‘meaning’ legible amid racially-stereotyped and problematic portrayals of Africa(ns) that are mediated by white supremacy. These identities are also class-based: adopted to access and mimic the optics of middle-class statuses, while attempting to disassociate themselves from imagery of ‘the Black African poor’. Not only does this ventriloquise ideologies of whiteness, by appropriating its 'them/us' binary oppositions used to subjugate the non-white, but it also fuels anti-Black racialised sentiments and hierarchical divisions among Nigerians that are undergirded by whiteness.
Blog post by Edward Ademolu, The London School of Economics and Political Science, UK
Read the full article: Ademolu, Edward. Seeing and Being the Visualised 'Other': Humanitarian Representations and hybridity in African Diaspora identities. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power. DOI: 10.1080/1070289X.2019.1686878
2019 marks 25 years since Nelson Mandela was elected as the first black president of South Africa. Finally, apartheid, the system of racial segregation institutionalised by the Afrikaans-led Nationalist Party in 1948, was a chapter closed. Since that time, South Africans of all backgrounds have been debating the extent to which the post-apartheid vision of ‘a rainbow nation’ -- a multicultural unity of people of many different nations -- is being realised.
This question is not only of interest and importance within South Africa. Against a context of rising populism and white nationalism across the Global North, are white people in South Africa really rejecting the privileges of white supremacism which they have enjoyed for so long?
My Identities article, 'Reimagining racism: understanding the whiteness and nationhood strategies of British-born South Africans', examines this question by looking at one group of South African Whites: those who were born in Britain and migrated to South Africa. Many did so in the 1960s, 70s and 80s, through a ‘Ten Pound Pom’ scheme which offered them cheap passage, good jobs and comfortable accommodation on arrival. Whereas, at home in Britain, there was rising rejection of the apartheid system in South Africa, this group chose to up sticks and move to a deeply segregated society. How do they explain this, to others and themselves? And how do they now talk about the situation in South Africa today?
Research on racism more generally reveals that ‘denial’ is a common white strategy. Studies across Australia, the Netherlands, Scotland and New Zealand show that, when white people talk about race, denial of racism is a pervasive tactic to avoid charges of being racist (van Dijk 1992; Augoustinos & Every 2007). My Identities article builds on this research but argues that the history of South Africa brings an additional, but significant, context. The overt segregation institutionalised through the apartheid system established a legacy of racism that means that outright denial is not an option open to white South Africans. However, through close examination of the talk of people I interviewed, I show how racialised systems, both past and present, may be reimagined, such that their forms and meanings are recast into alternative narratives.
I found four ‘discourses’, or ways of reimagining, are commonly used. First is temporal reimagination, which holds that racism in the past was not as bad as it was made out to be, in the British press in particular. As a result, in the present, a return to the ‘good old days’ is desired by both Blacks and Whites in South Africa. For example, Moira, in her 60s, explained:
'In some ways [the South African Government] were too good at communicating, because I don’t think that racialism was any worse here, but the mistake was giving it a name: ‘apartheid’. Rather than trying to shovel it under the carpet and say, 'Oh no, it doesn’t exist’, they were honest about it, upfront about it and said, ‘Yes it exists, we know it exists, we’re going to support it and we’re going to give it a name!'
Susan, now in her 70s, agreed, telling me that her helpers:
'Elijah and Christmas say they were a lot better off under the Brittos, the white guys, because then -- well there was law and order then you see. They knew where they stood.'
Second, boundary reimagination maintains that South African politics is ‘nothing to do with me, as I am British’. The racism of other groups (e.g. Afrikaners) was worse, and ongoing racialised systems are a consequence of their beliefs, not ours (the British). For example, Neil, an engineer in his 40s, told me over a beer:
'There’s a lot of corruption because there isn’t the money or resources to give to people. One time I was pulled over by a metro cop and he says 'I’m thinking I’m gonna have some beers tonight — do you have any money?', and it was like … police begging. When I go to the UK and I see the police pull someone over, I feel like that is how it should be done, you know, not like what you see in this country.'
Third, is open acceptance: Yes, racial segregation existed, and still exists. However, this is both accepted and acceptable as it delivers privileges to Whites. Richard, now in his 80s, whom I met at an exclusive country club in a leafy white neighbourhood in Johannesburg, admits:
'Let's be honest about it, I'm not one of those people who will shrink form that part of South Africa's history, it was brilliant! If you come to a country where you've got blue skies and you've got sea and you've got beaches and you've got a wonderful way of life with a maid and everything is quite a zillion times cheaper than the UK, you think this is paradise!!'
Finally, social reimagination holds that social change is both possible and desirable, and new opportunities are opening to white people. Laura, a young British teacher in her 30s was inspired by the following:
'There’s a sense that everybody’s invited to join in the history -- you’re very close to history being made here because it’s in the making. You can taste it in your -- that edge of meeting people. Everybody’s making an effort and moving forwards -- it’s an opportunity -- everyone says the opportunity is here to be grabbed and you’re quite close to the people who are trying to grab the opportunities.'
These different reimaginings of racism demonstrate diversity within British-born South Africans and it is important to recognise the plurality of white positions. However at the same time, a common feature was the lack of any real attempt to reimagine whiteness, and its privileges, and what it might mean to be a citizen of the ‘rainbow nation’.
Augoustinos, M. & D. Every. 2007. The language of ‘race’ and prejudice: a discourse of denial, reason, and liberal-practical politics. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 26: 123-141.
Van Dijk, T. 1992. Discourse and the denial of racism. Discourse and Society 3: 87-118.
Blog post by Pauline Leonard, University of Southampton, UK
Read the full article: Leonard, Pauline. Reimagining racism: understanding the whiteness and nationhood strategies of British-born South Africans. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power. DOI: 10.1080/1070289X.2019.1637624
On April 15, 2013, two pressure-cooker bombs exploded at the finishing line of the Boston Marathon, killing five and injuring 264. In the absence of information about who the bombers were, Salon.com published liberal commentator David Sirota’s piece 'Let’s Hope the Boston Marathon Bomber is a White American'. Sirota argued that if the bombers turned out to be white, Muslims would be protected from an inevitable anti-Muslim backlash. A few days later, the bombers’ identities were revealed as brothers Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, children of Chechen refugees who came to the United States when they were 16 and 8 years old, respectively. Interestingly, the brothers were phenotypically white and, as conservative commentators online were fond of saying, quite literally Caucasian (i.e. from the Caucuses). They were also, however, Muslims.
Sirota’s article provoked a firestorm across conservative media, and Sirota was accused of being race obsessed and blind to the threat of Jihadist terrorism. In our Identities article, '‘Let’s hope the Boston Marathon Bomber is a White American’: racialising Muslims and the politics of white identity', we analysed conservative responses to Sirota’s article, as well as the ensuing debate about whether the Tsarnaevs were, in fact, the white Americans Sirota had hoped for.
Given the widely held view that the brothers were phenotypically white, we were surprised to find that this question was shrouded in ambiguity. On the one hand, conservatives referred to the brothers’ whiteness to affirm a distinction between race and Islam, and to argue that the latter was a dangerous political ideology that people choose to believe in regardless of their race. On the other hand, however, and despite this apparently non-racial criticism of Islam, conservative responses to Sirota were permeated by accusations of anti-white racism, race treachery, white guilt, and even discussions of race suicide. We sought to explain this contradiction between intense expressions of racialised threat with avowed commitments to a non-racial critique of Islam.
We argue that reactions to Sirota’s article, as well as the liberal position he is considered to represent, reflect a deeply engrained view that there is a racial war between American whites and Muslims. The accommodation of Islam by white liberals is therefore cast as a direct threat to the United States, which white Americans are deemed responsible to protect. In other words, participating and agreeing to the terms of Muslim racialisation is central to the performance of a hegemonic white racial identity. Failure to perform this combativeness is deemed tantamount to race treachery and facilitating a form of racial suicide. Our critical contribution is that while previous scholarship on Islamophobia has focused on the cultural or phenotypical characteristics of Muslims that mark them as ‘other’, our argument shows that the racialisation of Muslims also occurs through a contested process of white racial formation.
Moreover, we identify a critical weakness in popular liberal critiques of Islamophobia. The critique deployed by Sirota, as well as other liberal commentators in the debate, hinged on a racial distinction between Muslims and whiteness. It was only through this (racialising) distinction that liberals were able to make operative the view that anti-Muslim sentiments after terrorist attacks reflect a form of racism. Liberals struggled to articulate a coherent critique in the face of the strategic use conservatives made of the Tsarnaevs’ ambiguous racial identity, emphasising the need for political counter-discourses to the white supremacist Islamophobia described in our Identities article. Alongside a more refined concept of racism attuned to relational racial formation processes, a primary goal must be disentangling whiteness from American citizenship -- a struggle with stark dimensions in the current moment.
Blog post by Jake Watson, Boston University, USA; Saher Selod, Simmons College, USA; and Nazli Kibria, Boston University, USA
Read the full article: Watson, Jake; Selod, Saher & Kibria, Nazli. ‘Let’s hope the Boston Marathon Bomber is a White American’: racialising Muslims and the politics of white identity. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power. DOI: 10.1080/1070289X.2017.1397964
The narratives presented in British public debates around terrorism have been long rooted in notions of increased presence of Islam in the public square as intuitively resulting in greater risk to the public. The most significant question this raises is who the ‘public’ refers to when discussing issues around securitisation. The recent horror of Christchurch represents something of an inverted scenario with the positioning, and following it we saw a series of Islamophobic attacks on mosques in Birmingham.
The connection between global and local events is significant because it explicitly requires us to engage in a process which, we argue in our Identities article, 'Securing whiteness?: Critical Race Theory (CRT) and the securitization of Muslims in education', is often absent. Our purpose in the article was to explore some of the ways in which Muslim communities are racialised and instrumentalised, rather than protected. Getting to grips with how Muslims have been located as stakeholders in national security in Britain is revealing.
A large part of the Prevent counter-terror strategy relies on partnerships with Muslim communities. So in many senses British Muslims are the key stakeholder group in the securitisation process -- so how does it play out for them? How are their interests reflected in exchange for engaging in these partnerships with the state?
The answers to these questions are explored in depth in our article, and are centred around a series of processes of racialisation that have disproportionately impacted on communities across nearly all sectors of social life.
An alliance of political debates and media narratives has forged a reality where it seems like common sense to commandeer Muslim organisations in securitisation strategies as a way of negating ‘risk’ by regulating Islamic influence in the public space. However, thinking about Muslims as stakeholders in any part of this process has been made to seem like a counter-intuitive position.
When we consider that the notion of ‘Fundamental British Values’ first appears in Prevent guidelines as a counter-point for identifying extremism, the overlooking of Muslim interests becomes absorbed into a bigger picture within which white British interests hold a far higher value than those of British Muslim citizens.
It is within this problematic scenario where we see a disparity in how voices are responded to -- and this occurs across racialised lines. The emphasis on Fundamental British Values clearly connects these disparities to wider issues around national identity and what is meant by Britishness and Englishness.
Security is presented as an impartial process which is about the protection of citizens. But for British Muslims the experience is very different. It seems that for them security is less about being protected and more about being instrumentalised.
The question to ask amidst all of this is how far securitisation strategies are ‘securing whiteness’, at the expense of British Muslims as stakeholders in security themselves?
Blog post by Damian Breen, Birmingham City University, UK and Nasar Meer, University of Edinburgh, UK
Read the full article: Breen, Damian & Meer, Nasar. Securing whiteness?: Critical Race Theory (CRT) and the securitization of Muslims in education. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power. DOI: 10.1080/1070289X.2019.1589981
When you see images of French daily life or French people in magazines, films, or other media, what do you see?
Usually, it’s white people, with perhaps a few visibly non-white people depicted. But this is odd for multiple reasons.
One, France has a long history of immigration, primarily from its overseas territories and former colonies. Due to years of colonialism, colonial slavery, and subsequent migration, ethnic minorities, or 'visible minorities' in French academic parlance, have long been part of French society.
Secondly, France does not acknowledge or measure race as a separate identity category. So while France is a multicultural society, it does not, as a facet of law, distinguish between these different cultures. One is either French or not. This is France’s Republican model.
Yet representations in popular culture or government reveal how this ideology does not quite play out this way as representations of Frenchness, whether it’d be French people, French identity, or French culture, are usually white, in terms of positions in government or images in French cinema and television.
In my Identities article, 'Are French people white?: Towards an understanding of whiteness in Republican France', I discuss how middle-class adult children of North African immigrants – individuals who were born in France and are descendants of France’s colonial empire in the Maghreb – navigate a French society that is supposedly colorblind where whiteness is the default.
How do they wrestle with definitions of French identity as white and full belonging in French society as centered on whiteness?
One way to understand this is as part of a racial project (Omi & Winant 1994) in which distinctions among individuals are marked without explicit categories.
David Theo Goldberg (2006) argues that our ideas of Europeans and European identity more generally are also based on whiteness as default. Just as French Republicanism denies the existence of race and racism, I argue that it simultaneously denies the existence of whiteness and white supremacy.
Part of France’s racial project is the continued production and reproduction of white as normal or default.
This is one reason why France is a fascinating place to examine white supremacy and everyday racism.
Goldberg, D. T. 2006. Racial Europeanization. Ethnic and Racial Studies 29: 331–364.
Omi, M. & H. Winant. 1994. Racial formation in the United States: from the 1960s to the 1990s. New York: Routledge.
Blog post by Jean Beaman, Purdue University, USA
Read the full article: Beaman, Jean. Are French people white?: Towards an understanding of whiteness in Republican France. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power. DOI: 10.1080/1070289X.2018.1543831
Whiteness, populism and the racialisation of the working class in the United Kingdom and the United States
In October 2016, as the US election loomed, Farage (2016) wrote in an opinion piece in The Telegraph, a symbol of his media prominence:
The similarities between the different sides in this election are very like our own recent battle. As the rich get richer and big companies dominate the global economy, voters all across the West are being left behind. The blue-collar workers in the valleys of South Wales angry with Chinese steel dumping voted Brexit in their droves. In the American rust belt, traditional manufacturing industries have declined, and it is to these people that Trump speaks very effectively….
This kind of statement was not limited to far-right politicians claiming political support from the working class, but has become common in much of the political commentary since.
To make sense of these developments, our Identities article, 'Whiteness, populism and the racialisation of the working class in the United Kingdom and the United States', examines the populist racialisation of the working class as white and ‘left behind’, and representative of the ‘people’ or ‘demos’, in the campaigns and commentaries.
We argue that such constructions made race central, obscured the class make-up, allowed for the re-assertion of white identity as a legitimate political category and legitimised, mainstreamed and normalised racism and the far right. Moreover, it delegitimised black, minority ethnic and immigrant experiences and interests, including working class ones.
We show that the construction of the votes as (white) working class revolts, and representing the 'people' and/or 'demos', is based on a partial reading of electoral data, misrepresents the votes, stigmatises the working class, and supports an ideological purpose which maintains the racial, political and economic status quo.
While much of the west has witnessed a resurgence of the far right since the end of the 2000s, 2016 marked a new step in the mainstreaming of reactionary and particularly racist, Islamophobic and xenophobic political movements, agendas and discourses (Mondon & Winter 2017).
Amongst others, the Brexit victory in the United Kingdom and Donald Trump’s election to the Presidency in the United States have demonstrated that these movements, agendas and discourses can now win key electoral battles.
While much has already been written on these two cases and events, the aim of our article is to focus the discussion on the construction of the white working class to promote racist agendas, adding to a limited, but growing analysis (Bhambra 2017, Emejulu 2016, Lentin 2017, Mondon 2017, Nadeem et al. 2017, Saini 2017, Virdee & McGeever 2017, Winter 2017).
Our contribution is three-fold: first, to interrogate the construction of these votes, specifically as white working class revolts; second, demonstrate that the prevalent mainstream explanations about the rise of a (white) working class reaction is based on an ideological racialised construction of the working class and skewed reading of data in both cases that do not sustain even basic scrutiny; third, that such explanations and skewered data reproduce and even support a particular discourse and political agenda, legitimising Trump and Brexit, as well as racism and xenophobia, and delegitimising the working class, whether consciously or not.
To achieve so, our article examines this mainstreaming of racism, focusing on the transformation of the discourses and rhetoric about race and class. Particular attention is paid to the populist racialisation of the working class as white and indigenous in the Brexit and Trump campaigns. In doing so, our aim is not to explain the reasons behind the vote for Trump or Brexit, but rather to examine such explanations and how these reproduce or even support a particular discourse and political agenda.
To challenge the narrative constructing Brexit and Trump as working-class revolts, we use a two-pronged approach: first, we demonstrate that there is a long history of whitening the working class and ignoring its diversity, thus promoting an essentialist narrative based on white (male) experience. This leads us to conclude that, while racism is indeed present in the working class, its diverse nature should not be ignored and the racism present in upper classes should not be downplayed, particularly when the so-called revolt is led by the privileged (both in terms of race and wealth).
We then take a more electoral approach and demonstrate that the working-class revolts for both Trump and Brexit are in fact far less obvious than the coverage of both electoral contests would suggest. In fact, the working-class nature of these two votes is marginal and can be challenged, but is mostly ignored in elite discourse.
We argue that the white working class narrative as problematic in four ways. The first is that it racialises the working class as white and pits an elusive ‘white working class’ against racialised minorities and immigrants, who are denied working class status, in a competition for scarce, deregulated and casualised employment and ever dwindling resources in neo-liberal Britain and America.
Second, it constructs the ‘white working class’ as privileging their racial interests above class ones and as being racist, which results in the very stigma right-wing populist and libertarian advocates, who are themselves often part of the elites, falsely and opportunistically claim to oppose. Third, it normalises and mainstreams racism in both discourse and practice by portraying it as a popular demand, thus potentially fuelling hate crime.
Finally, in addition to not addressing the inequality faced by ‘white’ working class people, it exacerbates the inequality and vulnerability faced by racialised and migrant working class peoples and actually serves establishment political and economic interests.
The white working class revolt narrative mobilised by the populist far right and hyped by elite discourse (Glynos & Mondon 2016) has ignored not only elite driven racism (e.g. in politics, academia and the media), but also the more structural, institutional and systemic operation of racism in our societies. While those in positions of power (whether political or discursive) have often argued that they are merely responding to what ‘the people’ want, they have carefully ignored or downplayed the role they play as gate-keepers and shapers of public discourse and their proven influence as agenda-setters.
Therefore, rather than ‘the people’ suddenly reverting to racist attitudes, we argue that it is the widespread and widely publicised acceptance, based on skewed evidence, that ‘the people’ has turned racist, that perversely led to the legitimisation of a racism as it began to be discussed as a popular feeling, rather than a construction fuelled by elite discourse.
UPDATE FOLLOWING THE 2020 US ELECTION:
While it would be premature to draw full conclusions about the 2020 US election, we can already hear similar narratives to 2016 being pushed, hyping again the popular, ‘left-behind’ composition of Trump's vote.
Yet, early exit polls seem to suggest that it is even harder to justify the ‘left behind’ narrative in 2020 than it was in 2016. It is worth noting that these are based on preliminary data that is likely to be refined over the coming days and weeks, but it is this data that is currently being used to push certain explanations of the vote, and for this reason, they are worth analysing in this context.
In terms of education and, while we have less detail for now than in 2016, Joe Biden appears to have managed to appeal to those without college education more than Clinton had in 2020, but still remains behind Obama in these demographics, something which certainly helps Trump look better. However, Trump’s support in these categories appears to have shrunk. Of course, the higher turnout means that he may have kept his electorate there, but this would suggest then that the growth in his vote came from voters with higher degrees of qualifications.
In terms of race, Biden seems to have performed better with white voters than Clinton and Obama in 2012. However, he seems to have lost votes within other communities compared to Obama in particular. Trump has only done marginally better with Latino and Asian voters and the bulk of his support remains white, the only category where he beats Biden.
Finally, vote per income is the most fascinating at this stage, as it was in 2016. The narrative in 2016 and 2020, from both Trump’s supporters and opponents, is that his electorate is to be found in the ‘left behind’, who find themselves seduced by his populism and how he appears to respect and address them. While this already was inaccurate in 2016, it appears that Trump’s support base has mostly increased in the wealthier sections of the population, the very demographics he appealed most to, and more than Democrats in 2016 already. Interestingly, his support also seems to have fallen with the middle category of income.
This is of course basic opinion poll analysis based on preliminary data; there are many caveats and we would not claim that this is representative of public opinion. However, this still matters as it is the data that is used to construct narratives about the election and justify the appeal of leaders like Trump. Yet, as we can see, even this data does not support the more mainstream argument that Trump is indeed the leader of the revolt of the left behind. Stressing this is crucial not only to provide a more accurate picture of Trump’s support, but also to start to undermine the political and democratic legitimacy of reactionary politics which has falsely tied it to the plight of the working class and the people. More than ever, it is essential to reiterate that Trump’s interests and politics are not that of the many or those at the bottom, but squarely in favour of the elite, which he is himself a symbol of.
Bhambra, G. 2017. Brexit, Trump, and ‘Methodological Whiteness’: On the Misrecognition of Race and Class. British Journal of Sociology: Special Issue on the Trump/Brexit Moment: Causes and Consequences 68: S214–S232.
Emejulu, A. 2016. On the hideous whiteness of Brexit: 'Let us be honest about our past and our present if we truly seek to dismantle white supremacy'. Verso.
Glynos, J. & A. Mondon. 2016. The political logic of populist hype: the case of right wing populism’s ‘meteoric rise’ and its relation to the status quo. Populismus working paper series no. 4.
Mondon, A. 2017. Limiting democratic horizons to a nationalist reaction: populism, the radical right and the working class. Javnost/the public: Journal of the European Institute for Communication and Culture 24: 355-374.
Mondon, A. & A. Winter. 2017. Articulations of Islamophobia: from the extreme to the mainstream? Ethnic and Racial Studies Review 40: 2151-2179.
Nadeem, S., R. B. Horowitz, V. T. Chen, M. W. Hughley, J. Eastman & K. J. Cramer. 2017. Viewpoints: Whitewashing the Working Class. Contexts, June 23.
Virdee, S. & B. McGeever. 2017. Racism, crisis, Brexit. In: Ethnic and Racial Studies: Race and Crisis Special Issue, edited by VIRDEE and GUPTA, 1802-1819. 41/10.
Winter, A. 2017. Brexit and Trump: on Racism, the far right and violence. Institute for Policy Research (IPR) Blog, April 3.
Blog post by Aurelien Mondon, University of Bath, UK; and Aaron Winter, University of East London, UK
Blog first published 10 June 2019; updated 9 November 2020.
Read the full article: Mondon, Aurelien & Winter, Aaron. Whiteness, populism and the racialisation of the working class in the United Kingdom and the United States. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power. DOI: 10.1080/1070289X.2018.1552440