About IsleBlaque

A Founding Reflection from IsleBlaque 'Summer' It began in the summer of 2024 — the year I finished college — walking through Birmingham city centre and witnessing something that unsettled me more than I expected. A non-Black person wearing a durag, moving as if they were stepping into a performance of Black identity. To some, it would look harmless. To me, it felt symbolic. The durag is not random fabric. In Black American history, it traces back to head coverings worn by en

Jamaican flag in the style of the Union Jack The Jamaican phrase “Wi Deh Yah” — meaning “we are here” — is more than a greeting. It is a declaration of presence. It is a reminder that the Black British Caribbean community exists, persists, and contributes — even when conversations about the Black diaspora overlook us. When people speak about the diaspora, the focus often centres on the United States. If not the US, then the Caribbean. If not the Caribbean, then the African c

'A Shooting Star' that'a meant to represent hope. Over the next decade and beyond, IsleBlaque aims to strengthen the Black British Caribbean community by building internal stability while fostering respectful relationships across the wider Black diaspora. Our intention is to settle differences where possible, amend unnecessary conflicts, and reduce distractions that prevent progress. Public “diaspora wars” often shift focus away from what truly matters — economic advancement,

Like many movements and organisations, IsleBlaque is often misunderstood. I want to clarify what we stand for — and equally, what we do not stand for. IsleBlaque is not a party space. We are not here for “Party Party” energy, for casual entertainment, or to feed into stereotypes. While cultural events like the Notting Hill Carnival have deep and serious roots, IsleBlaque’s purpose is different: we exist to create change, to progress together organically, and to build long-t

IsleBlaque was born out of anger. And from that anger came a rebellion against the normalisation of the things that harm Black people. One of the most visible of these is the erasure of our culture. Our achievements, our language, our style, our dress, our businesses — all too often taken and repackaged without credit. Fashion brands appropriate our cultural clothing. Hairstyles we wear for generations are treated as trends. Our inventions, our music, and even our methods of

Anger is not all the same. There is malicious anger — the kind rooted in bitterness. The kind that seeks to destroy, mistreat, or retaliate. It lashes out. It burns indiscriminately. And while it may feel powerful in the moment, it rarely solves the root of what caused it. Then there is righteous anger. Righteous anger does not aim to harm. It signals that something is wrong. It is the discomfort that rises when you witness injustice, exploitation, or erasure. It does not whi

People from windrush, exiting the ship Every founder must make a decision at the beginning: Do you try to serve everyone — or do you start where you stand? For IsleBlaque, the choice is intentional. Founders should begin with their roots. Not because other communities are unimportant, but because depth requires proximity. Trying to serve the entire Black diaspora from day one would not be ambitious — it would be unfocused. Without a clear starting point, there is no structure

For Black British communities, Windrush should be remembered as more than a historical event. It is legacy. It is sacrifice. It is the reason many of us exist in Britain today. The term Windrush generation refers to the thousands of Commonwealth citizens — predominantly from the Caribbean — who arrived in the UK between 1948 (possibility it was before that) and 1971. They were invited to help rebuild Britain after World War II, working in public transport, factories, and the

The Journey of Finding Ourselves Growing up Black in the UK can be confusing. At a young age, we learn how to code-switch before we even have a name for it. We discover that certain parts of ourselves are acceptable in some spaces but too much in others. In primary school, we often feel like we’re walking on eggshells. Around our white and Asian friends, we feel the need to soften ourselves. We adjust our tone, translate our culture, and make ourselves understandable. It’s no

Gates that are protecting the 'harvest' - symbolising something that IsleBlaque is trying to do for it's people. IsleBlaque is a community hub. It does not exist as a physical place, but its purpose is to provide and protect its own. When people hear the word gatekeeping , they often assume division. They imagine exclusion. But within IsleBlaque, “gated” does not mean shutting others out — it means preserving what is sacred. For generations, Black cultures across the diaspor

IsleBlaque officially began on October 5th, 2025.2026 will be our first full year of intentional building. 1. Build & Engage Our Community In 2026, IsleBlaque aims to actively engage with potential members who come across our platform, inviting them to join us in creating meaningful change. This community is centred around Black people — whether you are Caribbean, African, Afro-Latin, Afro-American or part of the wider diaspora. No matter your shade, tribe, area, or walk of l

IsleBlaque is an epiphany of what we call exploitation. Something that has happened since the beginning of time. Something we have witnessed repeatedly — culturally, economically, socially. Watching what is ours be taken, reshaped, and redistributed without honour or acknowledgment. As the founder, I will admit this openly: This idea was born from anger. From feeling distraught. From the grief of seeing something stolen over and over again. But anger is not the destination. I