REGULAR readers of this page would have noticed that, as with many topical or, should I say, trending issues, I have recently chosen to exercise more restraint than engagement, opting to focus on more structural matters. I am making an exception today to discuss Kemi Badenoch because some people dear to me have turned this into a virtual dinner table conversation. I refer primarily to my old schoolmates and my biracial daughter, who, by virtue of her parentage, our lifestyles, her talent, and her passion, can legitimately and logically claim three nationalities, teaches and writes in five languages.
When public figures, especially those who come from communities that have faced or are facing considerable hardship and adversity, express opinions or take positions that seem to conflict with the hopes and aspirations of those very communities, it is only natural that the initial reaction for many is one of anger or frustration. However, in the particular case of Kemi Badenoch, it might be more fitting to feel a sense of pity rather than anger. Her feelings, memories and words could be seen as arising from misunderstanding or misplaced priorities, rather than malicious intent. Recognising this distinction can lead to a more compassionate and measured response, encouraging us to look beyond the surface and understand the complexity of her position and the context in which she makes her statements.
Ms Badenoch, a former Secretary of State for Business and Trade and currently the leader of the opposition as well as the head of the Conservative Party in the United Kingdom, is a woman of Nigerian heritage with a remarkable academic and political career. She is undoubtedly not a Barack Obama, yet to many, she exemplifies the potential that arises when talent is given the right opportunities. Throughout her journey, she has undoubtedly broken through numerous barriers. However, she has gained notoriety not for championing minority rights, inspiring the needy or promoting inclusivity, but rather for stirring contentious debates around issues of race, inclusion, and post-colonial perspectives. Her trajectory illustrates the complex nature of political leadership and the diverse perceptions of her role and influence.
She is quick to criticise the so-called “woke culture”, often dismissing diversity initiatives and frequently positioning herself against what she refers to as “identity politics”. For some, these utterances are seen as courageous; for many, it appears suspiciously detached, potentially complicit, or even perilous. Recently, I heard she announced that she does not feel a connection to her ancestral roots. Most headlines I was shown quoted her as using the phrase “I don’t identify as … anymore”; the irony in the choice of words seems to be lost on many, including Ms. Badenoch. To each their own, of course. By the way, I defend her right to choose who she identifies as, and I pay tribute to those humanists who made that possible. However, perhaps the more pressing question we should be considering is: why does she feel this way? What has led her to these sentiments and positions? Beyond partisan politics, it raises broader inquiries about identity, culture, and personal history, and why individuals choose to embrace or reject aspects of their heritage.
Why would a Black woman, born and raised in the UK but with significant ties to Nigeria, choose to publicly downplay the very struggles faced by people of African descent and immigrant communities with whom she shares more than just a peripheral connection? It’s puzzling why she appears more eager to appeal to the most radical factions within British politics rather than to the concerns of mainstream Britain, let alone the oppressed and marginalised groups. She doesn’t even make the effort to pretend she’s embracing the noble, if aspirational, tradition of compassionate conservatism, let alone the more pragmatic common-sense centre that has historically enabled the Conservative Party to win and keep the extremes of both the left and right at bay.
The core of understanding, I believe, lies in recognising the profound psychological and sociopolitical toll that is often associated with the pursuit of a sense of belonging within environments that were never truly designed to be inclusive or accommodating towards someone with your background. Let us confront the reality that it is objectively challenging to operate and lead as a right-wing politician if you are black and happened to be born in England. Kemi Badenoch appears to be caught in a timeless dilemma faced by many ambitious outsiders: the tendency to overcompensate. In her determined efforts to demonstrate loyalty and unwavering commitment, she seems to feel compelled to go beyond the usual expectations placed upon insiders, often feeling the need to prove her allegiance more emphatically than those who were born into the inner circles of power and influence, in this case, the British inner circles of power and influence.
History and literature abound with such figures. In the courts of empire, it was often the colonised individuals who, in their bid for favour, enforced the rulings of their colonial masters with even greater fervour and ruthlessness. Similarly, within corporate boardrooms and parliamentary chambers, the so-called ‘model minority” is frequently lauded not for their innovation or compassion, but rather for their silence, conformity, and unwavering obedience. This tendency to praise conformity over creativity underscores a pervasive attitude that values subservience over genuine merit or ingenuity.
Kemi Badenoch wants votes; she does not require our hatred; she needs our understanding and perhaps our prayers. What she demonstrates is not true power, but rather a form of exile. Not confidence, but rather a profound insecurity disguised as unwavering conviction. She is not genuinely advocating for the emancipation or liberation of anyone, not even herself. Instead, she appears to be constantly auditioning for acceptance, seeking validation from others. The sad reality is that she is unlikely ever to gain full acceptance from the unestablished establishment she aspires to please. At best, she might be tolerated when it suits their interests, but ultimately, she risks being cast aside once she is no longer deemed useful. The historical appearance of her chosen persona is also jumbled and smudged by the presence of Reform UK, the party now led by Nigel Farage, but cofounded by Catherine Blaiklock. On another note, I suspect the latter is the true model of Kemi Badenoch, not Margaret Thatcher. I promise to write about Catherine Blaiklock one day.
Let us not exhaust our energy in anger. Instead, let us view Kemi Badenoch for the remarkable woman she is. A woman whose journey should have served as an inspiration to most, but unfortunately, has instead become a cautionary tale, illustrating what can happen when one sacrifices innovation and empathy in pursuit of approval. And for this, we owe her not anger, but a deeper understanding and perhaps a reflection on the values we uphold.
Join me, @anthonykila, if you can, to continue these conversations.