HAVE you ever noticed how conversations take a really unsettling turn when someone starts with “I’m not racist, but...”? It is as if they think saying that gives them a free pass to say something totally unacceptable.

This “I’m not racist, but” card is all too familiar to me. People seem to believe it is some kind of magic spell that can make their racist comments okay, like they are trying to hypnotise you into ignoring the racism that is about to come out of their mouth. But let’s be honest here – it’s not about them being anti-racist; it’s about them being terrified of being called out for what they are.

They are not scared of being racist or causing harm; they are just scared of looking bad. And it is annoying because it means they can say the ugliest things without anyone calling them out on it. They are more concerned with protecting their own reputation than actually doing the work to fight racism.

The recent revelations about Frank Hester, the Conservative Party’s top donor, have sent shockwaves through the media. The Guardian reported that in a 2019 meeting, Hester openly expressed hateful sentiments about Diane Abbott, Britain’s longest-serving black MP (below).

Hester confessed that seeing Abbott on TV triggered an urge to hate all black women, stating: “It’s like trying not to be racist, but you see Diane Abbott on the TV, and you’re just like, you just want to hate all black women because she’s there, and I don’t hate all black women at all, but I think she should be shot.”

The National: Abbott apologised on Sunday morning

This shocking revelation made me think of another public figure, Hollywood actor Liam Neeson. In 2019, Neeson stunned fans by admitting to a vengeful quest fuelled by racial bias. He revealed that 40 years prior, upon learning of a friend’s rape by a black man, he armed himself with a cosh and patrolled black neighbourhoods, hoping for an altercation that would allow him to bludgeon a random black man to death. Neeson’s subsequent defence rested on the claim of not being racist, attributing his declarations to candour and vulnerability while blaming political correctness for any backlash.

See what happened there?

The way Hester and Neeson share their thoughts makes me cringe astronomically. They both spill out some seriously messed-up thoughts, but then they pull this “I’m not racist” card as if it were some kind of get-out-of-jail-free pass. It looks like they are not really grasping the harm their words and actions can cause, or maybe they just don’t care.

READ MORE: Scottish Tories refuse to condemn Frank Hester's 'racist' comments

Using “I’m not racist” as a shield just shows how out of touch they are with the impact of what they are saying and doing. It’s not about being accountable or recognising the bigger issue of systemic biases; it’s more about deflecting and denying to protect their reputation.

These stories should make us have a real talk about taking responsibility, breaking down those biases and not letting racism hide behind flimsy excuses.

For both Frank Hester and Liam Neeson, the audacity lies in the duality of their expressions – the brazen proclamation of racist thoughts while, in the same breath, vehemently insisting that they are not, in fact, racists.

This is a paradoxical dance between admission and denial, a performance that reveals not only the distorted mindset of these individuals but also the privilege that shields them from the consequences of their prejudiced revelations. They are refusing to recognise how deep their words cut into society.

This habit of starting with a denial, similar to an “I’m not racist, but” vaccine, reflects a flawed understanding of racism. It is as if the mere act of disclaiming racism lets them off the hook, absolves them from accountability, allowing them to flaunt their racial prejudice without acknowledging the damage they perpetuate. The depth of this audacity is rooted in privilege and a warped understanding of racism.

Can you imagine if I, a black woman, said that these declarations made me want to hate all white men? Imagine for a second. Pretty grim, huh?

Hester’s disdain for Abbott and Neeson’s vengeful quest demonstrate a dangerous mindset where any black person becomes synonymous with one disliked figure. This association then becomes an excuse for the justification of violence – a perfect illustration of how racism manifests itself.

Finding the words to convey the sheer disdain I harbour for those who cloak deeply prejudiced sentiments with a flimsy veil of progressiveness is difficult. The audacity of expecting applause for their supposedly candid and vulnerable confessions, all while trying to position themselves as allies of anti-racism, is breathtaking.

In the aftermath of the revelations of Hester’s remarks, a statement from his business attempted to downplay his comments, stating that he “accepts that he was rude about Diane Abbott in a private meeting several years ago, but his criticism had nothing to do with her gender nor colour of skin”.

The statement went on to claim that Hester reached out to Abbott to apologise. The statement concluded with a declaration that Hester regards racism as a poison with no place in public life.

This attempted apology and disassociation from racism fall flat in the face of the initial, deeply prejudiced comments. The statement’s insistence on divorcing the criticism from issues of gender and race is laughable.

But today, I find myself in a generous disposition: I am choosing to believe that Hester might be a good guy, deep down. I mean, hating all black women? That is a monumental amount of hatred because there are so many of us, and it sounds downright exhausting.

So it makes me wonder, what kind of black women does he not harbour this intense animosity towards?

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If he could just share his rationale, he might transform into an unexpected hero of the people. Could it be that he only likes a certain subset of black women – the ones whose heads don’t rise above the parapet, those who obediently stay in their designated places, unseen and unheard, enduring their struggles in silence?

I feel most black women are immune to Hester’s hate. It is probably a minority that he strongly dislikes – those who dare to be visible and audible. The others, I believe, can carry on with their lives without him wishing for the bloodiest of demise.

Well, that’s a relief!

For black women like Abbott, this kind of talk is seriously scary. Especially in the current climate where political conversations can turn dangerous really quickly, people like Frank Hester (below, left) take their audacity to a whole new sinister level.

The National: Tory donor Frank Hester (left) has given millions of pounds to Prime Minister Rishi Sunak

The safety of Members of Parliament is already on shaky ground, and when hateful comments are tossed into the public mix, it becomes a serious worry.

In the UK, where MPs have faced physical attacks and even lost their lives, these confessions carry some heavy weight.

Diane Abbott’s straight-up admission that she now feels “less safe” after these remarks hits hard. The gravity of the situation can’t be overstated.

So let’s not get caught up in the whole “I’m not racist” incantation – it is, basically, a smokescreen. We all need to look past the initial disclaimer that is only aimed as escaping accountability, and dig into what is being said.