‘I am proud to stand up even if it makes some people uncomfortable’

On a recent morning, I walked through my new neighbourhood. The place I’ll soon be calling home. No fire alarm. No evacuation order. Just the smell of fresh coffee, the soft hum of music through a window, and – for the first time in a long while – calm.

We had breakfast at Radical Roasters, Bristol’s first woman-owned, queer and non-binary-led micro-roastery and cafe in Easton. The founder, Cat, has built more than just a coffee shop. She has created a place where no one needs to shrink themselves to fit in. No panic, no postcodes, just people.

But this kind of peace doesn’t appear out of nowhere. You feel it in your bones when you’ve spent nights in a hotel room, holding your child who is asking if the building will collapse. When the most basic things – safety, home, truth – are uncertain. That was life for many of us in Barton House.

I still remember the evacuation night clearly. I rang Sam Kidel, head of ACORN Bristol. I couldn’t explain what was happening because those evacuating us couldn’t either. No alarms and no fire brigade. Just sudden instructions to leave without real explanation. And then came the confusion.

Eventually, the council wheeled out the handful of ethnic minority officers they had not because they were qualified to lead an emergency but because they were expected to calm us down. And then, whispers: “Don’t work with ACORN.” As if we were naïve and manipulatable. As if we couldn’t tell who was actually showing up for us.

Some in leadership treated us like pawns. But we weren’t pawns. We were parents, nurses, neighbours, workers and people who noticed. And over time, residents saw exactly who was fighting for them. It wasn’t photo ops or promises. It was people knocking doors in the rain. Translating letters. Sitting with elders who were scared. That was ACORN.

Sam, ACORN Bristol secretary Wesley Bear and the whole ACORN team never left. Then Medact joined us. They are a collective of doctors, nurses, public health professionals and carers who reminded the council that housing justice is healthcare. Together, they didn’t just advocate. They treated us like human beings.

So yes, I’m proud to stand with ACORN, proud to be part of Medact and proud to stand up even if it makes some people uncomfortable.

I am a Black, Muslim, neurodivergent single mother. I’m also a campaigner, a worker and a woman who refuses to stay quiet when things are wrong. And while the media loves division, I know I share more in common with white working class women than we’re led to believe. We’re all out here raising children, navigating broken systems, putting our heads down and pushing forward.

That’s why we need each other. And we need housing policies that reflect all of us not just the ones who know how to write polite emails.

Right now, Bristol is multicultural but it’s still segregated. The way homes are allocated and the way whole communities are boxed in is fuelling division and distrust. Anti-immigration protests are not about facts. They are about fear. And we’ve seen where that leads.

So I’m calling on Bristol City Council to carry out a full equality impact assessment on high rise buildings like Barton House. Not as a tick box exercise but to actually understand who is living there, why they’re being placed there and how decisions are being made.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about responsibility. About seeing patterns and refusing to look away.

Barton House in Barton Hill was evacuated in November 2023 – photo: Martin Booth

As we await the independent investigation into the Barton House evacuation, I and others are putting forward Dan Ackroyd as a panel member. Dan is a democratic activist who understands people, policy and public accountability. We need someone who listens without rehearsed lines.

I’ve already offered my support to the council. And while I wait for their reply, I’m not standing still.

To every woman especially single mums like me, working professionals, carers, students, campaigners who feel like they’re holding up a whole house on one shoulder: I see you. We carry more than people know. But we also build more than they expect.

I am often described as the feisty one. Someone who never afraid to speak up, even if it makes the room uncomfortable (and, according to my teenager, deeply embarrassing). I’m a proud member of the ‘We Don’t Care’ club so it doesn’t faze me one bit.

Thanks to Easton Community Children’s Centre, who cared for my daughter Ayah during the evacuation when I had nothing left to give. Thanks to my oldest daughter who stood next to me at protests, proud even when I was shouting. And thank you and I’m sorry to my toddler for the time I took from her while I was busy trying to fix a system I didn’t break.

Please join ACORN Bristol. If you want a community union that will fight with you, not just for you. And if you work in health or care, join Medact Bristol a network proving that real care doesn’t end at a hospital door.

We’ve already made changes. The council can no longer automatically send bailiffs to chase council tax debt. Now people get a call, a plan and a chance. That’s progress.

But the work is far from over. Many Barton House families are still fighting. Some are still scared. And I will keep showing up. This isn’t the end. It’s a new chapter.

I hope to get involved in campaigns that speak to justice, dignity and inclusion including Bristol ACORN and the rights of SEND parents, who are being surveilled and silenced when they speak out for their children.

This is an opinion piece by Fadumo Farah, a Barton House resident, community campaigner and member of ACORN Bristol

Main photo: Leah Hoyle

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