Family ties

As some of you know I have three beautiful daughters. In fact it was my youngest daughter's christening yesterday.

During that Christening, I had a chance to catch up with nieces and nephews I hadn't seen in a while. One thing that struck me is how quickly kids grow. Two of my nephews are now in their early twenties. Both are taller than me. I'm six-foot, three so that's no mean feat.

However chatting to them it is clear they're still young. As well as they are both doing, one recently graduated from University and the other is working for a City bank, both still have work to do, particularly when it comes to make smart decisions around money and career direction.

So I praised them about the things they've done well and lectured them on things they can improve on.

What struck me is how attentive and receptive they were to what I was saying. I'm sure I was not telling them anything their parents hadn't told them already. However it dawned on me. They just needed another voice. Someone other than their parents, who was invested in them.

Fateful ride home

I wasn't planning to write about my nephews however something just happened on my way home from work today that had a serendipitous link to my conversations with my nephews yesterday.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, my commute home from work is uneventful. Not today.

I got on the train and a distinct whiff of marijuana assaulted my nose. As I looked down the other end of the carriage, two young black men were having a fight. Everyone else in the carriage was watching. Minding their own business.

I couldn't mind my business. This fight was absolutely my business. These kids were a bit younger than my nephews. I had no idea why they were fighting, who did what to whom but they were not doing battle today. Not on my watch.

As I got closer I could see they were grappling over an industrial metal chain. Clearly at least one of them had the intention of using it. There was a third kid with them. I had no idea what his role was. I couldn't work out whether he was egging them on or trying to stop it.

So I dove between them and broke up the fight. They calmed down yet sat in the same vicinity. Which seemed odd so I asked if they knew each other. They nodded.

Another lecture to young black men came out of my mouth.

I had no idea what I was saying. I'm used to telling off my seven and eight year old girls not boys that are old enough to know better. I was as angry as with these strangers as I would have been had it been my daughter's fighting on public transport.

Telling what needed to be heard

They needed to hear some home truths. As young black men. I say black men because it is relevant. No-one else on that train was going to intervene. To put themselves in harms way for strangers. Particularly if those strangers are high and there are weapons involved and yes, they are black. The rest of the carriage (all races) would have watched and waited for either or both of them to be carted off to hospital or a police cell.

I however felt compelled to intervene. I don't think I could have looked myself in the mirror if one of those boys got seriously hurt and I just stood and watched it unfold. As I spoke to them, I was interrupted by some train station staff. I told them I had it in hand and they signalled for the train driver to continue on.

As the train sped through the tunnel, I sat next to the boys. I spoke they listened. Just as my nephews had listened. It seemed like they had probably heard it before they just needed it from another voice. To know someone else was invested. This time a stranger who they'll probably never see again. They got off the next stop. One of them thanked me. The other to acknowledged.

Extended family

Speaking as someone that grew up as a young black boy in the UK. I understand what it is. I've seen friends die on the street. I've seen friends go to prison over situations that got out of control. I know what it is like to act out or to be looked at as the enemy when you're just trying to do right in the world. I've never seen myself as an elder. I've tried to focus first and foremost on getting my own house in order.

However today made me really appreciate that these kids, that are growing up exactly as I grew up, only in a different time, are part of my house. Part of my extended family.

I was fortunate growing up to know some stand up black men. Real men that ‘weren't about selling us jewellery but dropping real gems’. Although I didn't interact with them much, when they talked, I listened. Well I guess it's my turn to talk. If the kids listen, they listen. I will talk and intervene anyway. I owe it to them. More importantly, I owe it to myself.