Rural Minority Report

Despite making up nearly a tenth of the British population, just one per cent of visitors to national parks are from an ethnic minority. Emma Simkins discovers some inspiring projects helping to open up Britain’s countryside to a new audience.

“The countryside is a place for the rich, white upper classes. All the land belongs to farmers and any black man caught trespassing will be shot – at least that’s what some of my friends think,” says Ghanaian-born Henry Squire from Birmingham. It may seem an extreme perception but its sentiment – that the British countryside is unwelcoming – is a real barrier to many black and minority ethnic groups (BMEs). Worries about sticking out, feeling unwanted and even being subjected to passive or aggressive racism all contribute to what Sir Trevor Phillips, chair of the Equality and Human Rights Commission, has called a ‘passive apartheid’ in rural Britain.

It’s not just a matter of overcoming racial attitudes. There is a real knowledge gap among many urban BMEs about the countryside, where to go and what activities are on offer. Add to that a lack of decent rural transport options, a shortage of map-reading and first-aid skills, and a confusing and sometimes poorly signed footpath network, and you have a recipe for exclusion based on both actual and perceived barriers.

Fortunately, there are a number of projects in place to try and overcome these barriers (about which, more later), but for now it seems rural Britain has an image problem. Twenty-six-year-old Sarwar Khan is the son of first-generation Asian immigrants and feels this is heightened for his parents and their peers. “I think they perceive rural areas to be less accommodating. They can’t see ‘their type’ of people there, so are more hesitant about visiting the countryside,” he says. “But this is a perception problem and an understandably difficult part of settling in a foreign environment. I think the younger generation view it differently – I know I do.”

While overt racism is rare, non-white faces in some areas still provoke a reaction, which requires a degree of self-confidence to shrug off. “I’m fully aware that the colour of my skin makes me stand out,” says Ade Alele, a London-born 30-year-old of Nigerian heritage. “It’s a bit more noticeable when going into enclosed spaces such as a pub full of regulars, but it’s OK. I know that if the shoe was on the other foot I’d probably take a second look, too.”

Mildred Talabi, 25, from Streatham voices similar experiences: “I do get stared at, but I feel it’s out of curiosity and perhaps a little bit of ignorance. It’s not malicious and doesn’t offend me. But I think for it to change, there needs to be more mobility in Britain. We need to move in to rural areas and get people used to ethnic diversity everywhere.” This is easier said than done though, when very real physical barriers prevent people accessing the countryside.

Historically, immigration has been to the urban centres of Britain, resulting in a disproportionate number of BMEs living in inner-city areas. Many, but by no means all, of these people also inhabit some of the poorest inner-city communities.

“I live in London’s East End,” says 20-yearold Afro-Caribbean Zara Jones-Loblack. “Where’s the countryside near there? I have no car, so how am I meant to get to these open spaces on my own? I’ve no idea.”

It wasn’t until Zara joined a local walking group, the East End Girls, to train for a sponsored walk that a whole new world opened up to her. On visiting the Lake District, she said she never thought such a place could exist in England. But without her walking coach, Heather Waring, she would never have experienced this beauty. Heather has seen how walking has helped the women in her group to blossom.

“Lena, one of the Asian girls, used to be very shy,” says Heather. “At the start, she’d only come if her mum was walking, but after a while she would come on her own. She even ended up leading a walk and this new-found responsibility made her more confident, which really helped her when she left home for university.”

While Zara had Heather to help organise her trip to the Lakes, undertaking the journey independently can prove a difficult and costly exercise for the uninitiated.

“Rural public transport is getting worse and harder to use,” argues Terry Howard, who runs a Walking Out scheme for the Ramblers in Sheffield that offers led walks for novices in the Peak District. “Fears about being stranded miles from home can make a trip out very unnerving. It puts people off.”

Language problems can also compound the problem, says Tasnim Niaz, who runs walking groups for mixed Asian groups on the North York Moors: “For anyone whose English isn’t too good, poring over bus timetables and negotiating maps to find the right stop can be too big a hurdle to combat.”

Cultural forces are also at work. One criticism levelled at British tourism boards by racial-equality campaigners is that much of their advertising features white people enjoying the outdoors, further alienating BME groups by reinforcing the notion that certain places aren’t ‘for them’. They argue that more targeted campaigns are needed to reach these under-represented communities.

There’s also the issue of habit. If it hasn’t been common practice in childhood to visit the countryside, as adults some people simply don’t think much about going walking or find much interest in it.