ZARE at Uniqlo Tate Lates: Jay Bernard.

By Ella Monnerat

Jay Bernard talks about information gatekeeping, queer and black activism, and their book ‘Surge’ at Tate Lates event.  

Jay Bernard is a force of nature. They sing perfectly in tune, read with a passion rarely seen and make the audience laugh and cry. The queer poet and archivist, who read excerpts of their poetry book, Surge, at Tate Lates last month, captivated the audience with their every move. The room was crowded, and Bernard’s soft but intense presence filled it with raw emotion. 

Bernard’s 2019 book, Surge, is a poetry collection that explores the 1981 New Cross Massacre, which killed 13 young black people and led a 14th to commit suicide. Society’s indifference to the deaths and the perception of the police led to protests that marked a turning point in black British history. Surge functions as an excavation of these events, and it blends together both political and personal memories, allowing the reader insight into the New Cross Massacre and into Jay Bernard’s mind.During the Tate event, Bernard discusses what drew them to writing about the tragedy. “I came across the fire by chance while doing a residence at George Padmore Institute. I just thought it was very weird that I knew so much, and yet, I was completely unaware of something that had happened just down the street from where I lived.”  

The most striking part of the night is the question and answer session, where the atmosphere of the event comes out through the questions of activism, resistance, survival and more. “What inspires you to write?” a man in the audience asks. “Bills, rent…” Bernard answers without thinking twice. Everyone laughs, but the expectation of a more hopeful response remains. “Putting together the New Cross fire and queerness in the current political climate inspires me. Something about having privilege, about being able to stand in this room and contribute to the culture by talking about black, British history. In terms of creating, the most encouraging thing has been looking through archives. This was a residency and then it was supposed to end - I didn’t expect it to become a book. Archives are a great position to start from, and serve as a rite of passage.”  

The cultural and political relevance of Bernard’s work becomes even more apparent when a woman in the audience raises her hand to speak: “I found out recently that my uncles were invited to that party. They are such important people in my life, and the idea that if they’d accepted that invitation, they wouldn’t be here, terrifies me. Keep doing the work you’re doing,” she says.  

Another member of the audience asks, “do you have any advice for people struggling with their identity?”. Bernard smiles, and says “I don’t give advice. I mean, look at me”. Once again, the entire audience laughs. Jay continues, “take away from identity and think about current political existence. Don't think just about your identity, but about the material realities that created it. Queerness is only an identity because of oppression. It’s not a personal problem”.  

Important conversations relating their work to Grenfell, immigration, and information gatekeeping also take place. When a member of the audience talks about the lack of public access to certain archives, Bernard ponders, “it’s so frustrating how a missing piece about someone can be in a building they have no access to or awareness of. I have no sense of nativity, I can’t trace myself anywhere in the world. It’s crazy how you can grow up here and not learn about this. How can the first black protest in the UK be a specialist area?”. 

On the subject of the archives, Bernard discusses the origin of the files they have looked through, and considers the fact that many of them have been taken by the British from other countries. So, should those items be returned? Bernard worries about how the items would be preserved in developing countries, but argues that “there is something powerful about something being returned and turning to dust under the culture that it came from”.  

Bernard is an example of resistance, and we should all take notes from their graceful ways of asserting their identity and history. The event is a refreshing reminder of the power that art can carry during turbulent political times.  

After the New Cross fire, 20,000 people protested, and many carried placards with the statement: “Thirteen Dead And Nothing Said.” But forty years later, Jay Bernard is here, saying it all, bringing more visibility to this part of London’s history.