WEAR IT WITH PRIDE

On Sunday, the nation will gather at the Cenotaph in London and at memorials across the country to remember the soldiers who gave their lives fighting for Britain. The ceremony, broadcast live on television, is a solemn display of remembrance, with military bands marching in step to Elgar’s haunting Nimrod. Everyone will be wearing a Poppy, something until recently Black and Caribbean people have been reluctant to do. It’s understandable, for historically, they’ve felt, little or no connection, with the symbolism of the day. Yet this view overlooks a wider history-the involvement of Black people in both World Wars.

Originally, Remembrance Sunday was dedicated to the memory of soldiers who died in the First and Second World Wars, but now it includes all those who have given their lives, including, in more recent conflicts, like the Gulf, Afghanistan, and the Falkland wars.

The red poppy which grew in the desolate battle fields of France and Belgium, is today worn by millions with pride. Yet, many Black Britons remain reluctant to wear one. It’s a hesitation perhaps rooted in an unawareness, that Black people — particularly those from the Caribbean — played a significant part in both World Wars, and that many of their soldiers paid the ultimate price.

The contribution Caribbean played in both wars was extensive, and every island played its part. In the First World War, more than 15,000  men formed the British West Indies Regiment, and fought bravely in Egypt, Palestine, Italy, and France. In the Second World War, Caribbean men and women once again volunteered in their thousands, raising funds also to send to Britain. Countries like Jamaica and Trinidad, provided essential resources like bauxite, oil, and food.

This loyalty or sense of duty, —depending on one’s perspective — was remarkable given the economic hardship these nation faced, a legacy of slavery and colonialism. Many a volunteers left their homes for Britain, not knowing what awaited them, the realities of war, the harsh conditions they’d face, the painful truth that they would face racial discrimination, denied recognition, and excluded from many of the very services they were in Britain to protect.

For some, fighting for Britain was also seen as a way to advance the cause of independence, a movement that was beginning to gain momentum across the Caribbean. Whatever their motivation, their courage and contribution deserve to be remembered — not as a footnote, but as a central part of Britain’s shared history of sacrifice and resilience.

Between 1942 and 1945, over a million men and women came to Britain from across the Empire and Commonwealth. There were already around 150,000 Black American GIs stationed in Britain, and with pockets of established Black communities located in seaports towns like Liverpool, Bristol, London, Manchester, and Cardiff, the number of Black people in the country was significant.

Many West Indians who had arrived in Britain to fight, were not allowed initially to do so, instead they were consigned to work in factories, producing munitions or were assigned to labour battalions. Others, such as those recruited from Honduras, were sent to Scotland to work as foresters, in which exposed to the harsh weather, inadequate equipment, and racial discrimination, they suffered terribly. Even those West Indians who were accepted into the forces, were restricted to support and logistical roles, rather than combat duties.

The reason for this was a long-standing army policy that deemed it “unacceptable for a Black soldier to kill a white serviceman” — even if that serviceman was the enemy. As a result, most Black soldiers saw action in North Africa, Italy, and Burma, rather than in mainland Europe. You don’t need a degree to work out why they were sent there.

The Royal Air Force experience was a bit better. Historically, non-white recruits like the army had been excluded from its ranks, but when war broke out in 1939, manpower shortages — along with persistent lobbying from Dr. Harold Moody and the League of Coloured Peoples — forced the government to abandon the policy. Consequently, more than 6,000 West Indians served in the RAF, including around four hundred officers and combat aircrew.

In spite of these restrictions, the West Indians who came to fight, and the Black people in the country, made vital contributions to the war effort. They fought on the battle fields, worked in factories producing the materials to fight, worked on farms, were night-watchers, fire guards, nurses, and hospital orderlies. Yet despite their contributions, the service they’ve made is largely ignored, and is often not remembered in the national services of Remembrance. Why is this?

It’s the same reason that sort to restrict West Indians when they volunteered to fight for Britain, an idea rooted in a racial hierarchy that saw Black people — even those who sacrificed their lives — as inferior, of lesser value than those of the enemy they fought. It’s a mindset that is deeply ingrained, and now operates subconsciously, whereas during the war it was reinforced by imagery and propaganda, with the aim of erasing Black participation. The same is true no less of photographs and newsreels of the war, with an absence of Black soldiers and people, although we know, there were thousands in the country.

It's an omission and removal that is striking, unacceptable, and something we must unequivocally reject, insisting that the stories and sacrifices of Black servicemen and women be fully integrated into the broader narrative of British history. It means ensuring that wartime materials — images, newsreels, photographs, and documentaries featuring Black service personnel — are reviewed, preserved, and made accessible to the public. It should also as a resource be available to schools and colleges, and incorporated into the curricula, so that future generations will come to understand and appreciate this often-neglected chapter of British history.

Monuments and memorials are also important as they play a vital role. They are not merely stone and metal — they are collective memories that shape how a nation understands its past, honours sacrifices and defines its identity. In this, Black people are part of a shared history, and not solely the product of white endeavour.

In this context, Remembrance Day takes on added meaning, for it’s an opportunity for Black people to engage with a broader narrative — one that challenges the oversimplified exclusionary versions of history. It has persisted for too long. So, Remembrance Day, is about Black soldiers and civilians as well. It means we can all wear our Poppy with pride.