In conducting a follow-up study on a particular story, I was required to travel to Sparkbrook Birmingham to take some photographs, and if possible interview some of the locals. I arrived at my target, a derelict building forgotten by the Council. Its windows boarded up, its garden dishevelled, a true monument to a quickly built urban sprawl, a community building which once offered so much to the neighbourhood now stands as a relic of a forgotten part of the city.

Having taken this story on as an ongoing project of mine, my affiliation with the disused property was perhaps stronger than it should have been. One cannot help but look at its condition and think, “what a waste of community space”, or “if only”. Regardless, on this particular trip I was to learn more about the neglect from high places the community suffers then the disused building could ever tell me.

Walking around to the back of the property, I meet three local Asian lads who were enjoying the peace of the garden, all slightly older than me, and all startled to see me there in front of them. I thought to myself that Sparkbrook’s reputation is renowned in other parts of the city, and this was my cue to leave. I was feeling at this point rather smaller, paler, rather outnumbered, and with retrospect an innate paranoia that I was about to be mugged. How wrong I was.

For the journalistic cause I threw these concerns to the back of my mind and barraged them with questions about the building, what they knew about it, what they think should be done about it, and if they knew anything about the occupation less than a year ago. The three men knew very well what I was talking about, and invited me to talk about it with them. What innate paranoia there was quickly subsided as the four of us spoke with genuine passion about the waste the building is in its current state.

One expressed a desire to buy the property if only he knew what avenue to go down. Another had some fantastic ideas of possible uses, all specifically targeted to the local neighbourhoods, and the third lamented about the neglect this part of the city receives from the powers that be.

Our conversations quickly turned to a lot of other things. We spoke of the wider community and how people passively agree with what is decided in their area without actually having a say or without being consulted by it. They told me about the institutional racism they experience for being Asian; one told me how he and his friend were arrested for stopping their car to break up a fight. On another occasion one of the lads and two white guys were stopped, with the police officer only questioning the Asian, demanding to see his documents and papers. The conversation also turned to religion and faith, but what amazed me was their willingness not to highlight the different faiths between us, but to actively seek common ground between us both on such issues. The conversation also drifted onto how hard it is to be a youth these days, with spiralling house prices, low worker pay and the dire state of some parts of the city, including the said disused property, the Cottage of Content.

They agreed to let me quote them under pseudonyms, and I eventually left them on the bench to write my article. I left, however, feeling that I should write about this, the innate paranoia between different parts of society and how ludicrous it all is. The pleasure of seeking out common ground rather then the differences that separate us. And the surprise of knowing that someone who you assumed to be so different is actually very similar.

United we stand, divided we fall.

Jack Writer