Tess Hardy (she/her)
the memory of holding a stranger’s arm, or being offered bags and bags of crisps was enough. That day gave birth to such small moments of humanity and community that sometimes feel extinct in this day and age.
To me, the Glasgow Film Festival is a national holiday, and if social justice is involved, me and my girls are there. As I spent the last two years attempting to engage with various kinds of direct political action, at each protest I attended, the rumblings of what happened at Kenmure Street felt like a legend. The renowned documentarian Felipe Bustos Sierra followed the sounds of shuffling feet and the breaking of bikes and cars as the people of Glasgow assembled on Kenmure Street. In 2021, a Home Office immigration enforcement van pulled up to Kenmure Street in Pollokshields. Just like the rest of the UK, Kenmure Street is a multicultural epicenter: the call to prayer from the mosque, children going to school, and people walking their dogs. Everything was normal, calm even, until one van and two officers started what would be an eight hour standoff between the people and the police.
It could be said that the Home Office’s biggest mistake was coming to one of the most diverse communities in Scotland, housing some of the most resilient and passionate people I have ever met. But, what becomes most apparent in this failed operation is the date: May 13th, the morning of the Muslim festival of Eid. Maybe that date was pure chance, but it was a token of unity and community that protesters could exploit to rally their own side. Maybe it was chosen because the Home Office, in a calculated move, hoped that the community would be largely at home on this holiday and more vulnerable – oh, how they were wrong!
Either way, it was an unreminable strategic error, solidifying the community view that this was heavy-handed policing against a proud, close-knit Scottish community by the British authorities. What underscored the utter, radicalised injustice of the day was the fact that the two men who the van came for had lived on the street for ten years, and were given no legal representation.
Word spread like wildfire as neighbours and activists rushed to surround the van. One man made the most important move of the day: he went under the van, clung to the axel, and did not move. In Sierra’s film, the “Van Man” is voiced by Emma Tompson to ensure anonymity whilst still letting us hear his words of solidarity. The film brings us down under with “Van Man” and, suspended in the darkness of Screen 1, you are down there with him. The camera then moves up, and you are consumed by the darkness with the two men, chanting sounds echoing through the glass. Then, finally, you find yourself on the ground-level, sitting on the road in unity with the rest of the Southside community. Sierra comments on how it was an unlikely band of heroes: a neighbour who ran out to the street in his pajamas, community activists, the local imam, and the schoolkid ditching his biology class for a real life lesson. They all stood against the Home Office because they knew it was the right thing to do.
While watching the film, there are numerous moments of laughter. Ultimately, it’s a joyous account of the standoff with the police and the UK Home Office – a true David and Goliath clash. A community leader recounts that the crowds were allowed to use the mosque toilets; protesters and police officers shoulder to shoulder in the queue. Afterwards, they resumed their positions on opposite sides of the line. The film celebrates and trophies collective action, not just at Kenmure Street but across the UK for various causes. In true Sierra fashion, he looks back to Glasgow’s history of socialism, trade unionism, and community activism, showing the events that led to that day which have subsequently shaped this community. Sierra highlights the importance of the Glasgow Girls: in 2005, following their friend being deported, the schoolgirls ended dawn raids through campaigning, lobbying ministers, and bringing media attention to their cause, becoming unlikely activists.
As the “Van Man” crawls out from underneath the vehicle, the two men are freed, the people embrace each other, the police crawl away in shame, and the credits roll, I hear a familiar call…
‘THE PEOPLE UNITED, WILL NEVER BE DEFEATED!’
It’s true. We had all just seen it on the screen in front of our eyes, and you felt it in your heart. You look around and think, ‘Maybe I’m not as alone as I think I am’ – that there is power in numbers. And, maybe we can do this – life, in all its madness. After Kenmure Street, some residents kept the cardboard signs they made frantically in their living rooms before rushing down. For others the memory of holding a stranger’s arm, or being offered bags and bags of crisps was enough. That day gave birth to such small moments of humanity and community that sometimes feel extinct in this day and age. In our current climate that is becoming increasingly anti-immigration with the rise of Reform and Trump’s MAGA tirades, to see so many people bustling to get the best seat was soul warming. There was a range of ages, genders, and races, and it was, quite simply, an evening of people coming together in a collective understanding of the barbarity of the Home Office. We came for inspiration and saw utter unwavering persistence. The people stood their ground and the men were freed: it was surreal.
Kenmure Street stands as a legend of community triumph: a souvenir of solidarity. Together, hand-in-hand, if we focus on the insistence on justice, unlawful and inhumane anti-immigration racist governments can be halted in their tracks and those they target can be free. But, we must act together. So, the next time they tell everyone to take to the street, get your arse down there!
All the power to all the people, refugees are welcome here.
