What a difference a week can make. Here’s an important update and thank you to the best community around.
by Katrina Marshall
Seven days ago I dropped the last veil of my modesty.
“VisaGate” was unleashed on my wider professional community and the future looked bleak (you can read the original post here)
Seven days later I’ve shed more tears of joy in a week than I have in months.
Because my dear #Unpluggers and the wider #comms community have stepped up for me in a way I once felt was impossible.
Recap:
Facing the perfect storm of circumstances that would rival the plot of an apocalyptic blockbuster movie, I stepped all the way out of character and took my appeal for help “public”.
Possibly being rendered jobless, homeless and stateless all at once, my first hurdle was to scrape together the last of the funds required for my specialist solicitor to submit a portion of my application on my behalf.
At the time of writing, we are as close to that goal as a wall is to a fresh coat of paint. None of that could have happened if you all had not levelled up. Particularly the non-comms folk who weren’t part of our initial target audience (once a PR strategist, always a PR strategist right? ;-)
Status:
Every email, every WhatsApp message, every Twitter DM, every financial donation, every concerned phonecall & every offer of paid work has been equally meaningful.
There is no ‘help hierarchy’ that puts pounds sterling ahead of prayer. In these situations, one needs to be enveloped in a holistic bubble of support and strength, so consider me properly enveloped.
Are we out of the woods yet? No. We are moreso trimming the verge on the outskirts of the woods. But there are many factors determining next steps and if those next steps have a pound value attached remains to be seen.
To my horror, I may yet need to call on you again.
But here’s what I know for sure: first the world is a far kinder place than I allowed myself to believe. Secondly, my tribe is stronger and roars louder than the thunder of this perfect storm swirling around me. As my good sistren Melysah says ‘in our tribe, if you trouble one, you trouble us all’. Clearly my ‘comrades in comms’ have felt deeply troubled on my behalf. A fact I’ll not soon forget.
Reality Check:
So before we all throw a big post-Covid “VisaGate” victory party (sponsored by @mountgayrum of course!), remember these funds only ensure that my solicitors have enough of their fee to work on the first step of the tricky application process. It does not guarantee automatic granting of Indefinite Leave to Remain. From the get go, I’ve made it clear that I’m only asking for the best possible chance at submitting a favourable application. No matter what mine and other folks’ public opinions on the matter are, the Home Office immigration process isn’t going to change overnight. Nor will it change just for me. But maybe if there are more ‘mes’ the change will be a blow that falls by degrees.
Which brings me to the final point…
“My Name is You”
Whether this time next year finds me dialling into a team meeting for my dream comms or journalism role (physical commuting is sssooo Pre-Covid right?); or getting up before dawn to go back to hosting a morning tv show in Barbados, this, I think, is a key takeaway:
My public self- flagellation must be for something more than three hassle free years to live in the U.K. legally at least or indefinite leave to remain at most. It has to be for more than the chance to throw myself into work that I enjoy and am deeply passionate about. As an industry this should be more than something that happens to someone ‘over there’. It’s almost unfathomable, but it still needs to go beyond the tsunami of warmth and kindness that has washed over me in the past few weeks. It needs to be a catalyst for greater discussion on the true barriers to diversity and inclusion in PR and comms. Further, how those existing barriers intersect with the challenges posed by the UK immigration landscape and myriad related social services. It needs to spearhead conversations that start with listening to understand, rather than listening to respond. It needs to recognize that no matter how embarrassing it is for large umbrella bodies, our largely white, middle class industry remains thus because at the base level the structures and systems designed to recruit and attract age, gender, cognitive and cultural diversity do not go far enough. It needs to take the dominant paradigm about working modalities that has been shattered against the slate wall of convention because of Covid19 and mine deeper than the superficial box ticking exercises that barely move the needle on inclusivity in practical terms.
Many have tirelessly championed this cause. Some of whom were predictably the first to reach out to me. But their individual voices need to go from a whisper to a collective shout.
Most of all it needs to remove the ‘othered’ gaze that so many cases like mine are seen through and obliterate the concept of ‘them’ – the people bad things happen to – and ‘us’ the people who need to help them because these things don’t happen to us.
Growing up I loved watching Sesame Street – a programme that was and is prodigious and way ahead of its time in terms of intersectional representation in children’s tv. One of my favourite songs listed the number of ways children were all so very different. But yet so very much the same.
“I live in southern France
I'm from a Texas ranch
I come from Mecca and PeruI live across the street
In the mountains, on a beach
I come from everywhere
And my name is youWe all sing with the same voice
The same song, the same voice
We all sing with the same voice
And we sing in harmony”
A bit syrupy yes. But consider that this perfect storm of circumstance converged on a person from the relative privilege of a foundation of tertiary education, 15 years of global experience in journalism and public relations, membership in esteemed international bodies and being part of a well-connected network of influential comms professionals. Remember this isn’t happening to ‘them over there’. It is happening to me. Remember that my name is Kat… and my name is you.
*If there is anything about Kat’s story (as yet incomplete) that you’d like to chat with her about or share, follow her on twitter at @kat_isha.
Katrina Marshall is a freelance communications and PR specialist and a member of the PRCA. You can say hello on Twitter at @Kat_Isha
