A lasting legacy | Glasgow – City of Empire, Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow

Syma Ahmed

Over the past few years, there have been many discussions around anti-racism and decolonisation in museums across Britain. In Scotland, I was pleased to see Glasgow Museums taking a positive step in supporting young people of colour to co-curate the permanent exhibition Glasgow – City of Empire at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum.  

My colleague Tabassum Niamat and I were invited to the launch of the exhibition last October. Having worked with some of the young changemakers from the youth-led culture programme Our Shared Cultural Heritage (OSCH), it was a pleasure to see their work analysing museum objects and offering new perspectives on Glasgow’s colonial history.

The introductory board for Glasgow – City of Empire is in the main lobby, which has a lot of footfall, and it grabbed my attention as I walked by. The introduction clearly highlights the growth of Scotland’s wealth, and the former British empire, as a result of the transatlantic slave trade and oppression of people in countries that were colonised. The panel also includes a glossary of words relevant to the exhibition, which will help people understand a bit more about the history of the empire. 

Stepping into the main exhibition space in the south gallery was a thought-provoking experience. It was interesting to find out how Glasgow’s links with empire flourished through the growth of industry, agriculture, railways, buildings and museums. 

Having worked in the museum and cultural sector, as well as with BAME communities across Scotland, over the past 15 years, I understand the city’s complex past and its entanglement with colonialism and the slave trade. While there is contextual information about each object in this exhibition, I gained a much deeper understanding and was given new perspectives through the OSCH changemakers’ interpretation of the items.

The museum text produced by the OSCH changemakers group was also useful. The group analysed the exhibition and wrote interpretations for the objects that make visitors question what aspects of history they learn from these objects and whether they address topics such as transatlantic slavery and colonial empire. 

It was good to see some exhibition labels and texts in different languages, including Urdu. While I was exploring the exhibition, I witnessed the excitement of a BAME woman who connected with an object immediately because she was able to read the information in a language she understood. Providing texts in different languages in museums is essential to engage diverse communities.

One object that impressed me in particular was a small statue of Jhansi Ki Rani astride a horse with an infant on her back. This 19th century Indian warrior queen put up resistance to protect her kingdom from being taken by the British Raj. Being a second-generation Scottish Pakistani woman in Glasgow, with ancestors from India and Pakistan, I was keen to explore stories of women activists from South Asia, and she was someone who has always interested me.

In fact, my work at Glasgow Women’s Library involves researching and celebrating migrant women’s history in Scotland. In 2018, we marked the centenary of women’s suffrage. As well as celebrating key women in British history who fought for the right to vote, we also researched and celebrated BAME women’s activism worldwide, and I made sure Jhansi Ki Rani was in the mix.

It is good to see Glasgow Museums undertaking this timely piece of work. While the exhibition is a good starting point for unfolding the uncomfortable history surrounding the former British empire, there is much more work to do in decolonising the collection. I would recommend Glasgow Museums continue to work with OSCH changemakers and artists of colour, forging collaborations and utilising further resources to continue this essential work. The involvement of diverse audiences in the interpretation of the objects and displays, draws in different perspectives and voices, and improves accessibility. 

Tabassum Niamat

For many of us second-generation South Asians in Britain, learning about British colonialism did not come from the classroom or educational institutions unless we sought it. Our parents who migrated here did not have much to teach us either because for some the partition of India was too painful to discuss or they did not experience the violence first-hand. 

My introduction to what British brutality could look like came from watching a Bollywood movie called Mard (which translates to “Man”) at the age of 10. The film was about the cruelty of the British Raj, the treachery by fellow Indians who benefited from oppressing their own and a love story all mashed up into one.

There are many reasons why I thought about the movie. It was not a masterpiece and was entirely fictitious, but it invoked rage, anger, and portrayed the injustice and cruelty that Indian people were facing. A reference to signs saying: “No Indians or dogs allowed,” was another part of the movie that I remember strongly.

It played on my young mind because here we are living in Britain, this is our home, but the British in India hated us when we were there. That is what my 10-year-old brain was thinking.

Most of the racism I was subjected to when I was young came from other children rather than adults. The reason why I am mentioning the film is because it portrayed the subjugation of our people, the exploitation and stealing of wealth from our country, and that there was a difference between us, our skin colour and language.

Racism was the tool that the British used to rule over India, and one that Europeans used to rule over other parts of the world.

The exhibition Glasgow – City of Empire includes a Barbados penny, a currency that was used on the island and thought to be struck by a plantation owner. It explains how Barbados was where the British introduced laws that categorised “human” as white, while Black people were considered property.

I applaud Kelvingrove’s effort in addressing racism and violent oppression of Black and Brown bodies, and facing up to the looting and dubious acquisition of artefacts that no doubt came about by nefarious means.

Another object I was drawn to was a necklace. In our culture, a woman’s jewellery is her prized possession, especially if she is married. Her adornment tells you how wealthy she is and acts as her security. The Chandrasani Haar on display is intricate in design and has the Hindu goddess Durga engraved, who protects her devotees and removes evil from the world.

This explanation, however, feels ironic as there is no interpretation about how this piece of jewellery was obtained. As we know, many jewels made their way to Britain, the most famous being the Koh-i-noor diamond, which India and Pakistan both lay claim to.

I know a huge amount of work has gone into creating these displays. But even with the best of intentions, this type of exhibition still feels excluding to some visitors because language and education are barriers.

As much as I like to visit museums, I look at them through the lens of my mother, who does not read or write and can’t speak English. How would she feel in a space like the Kelvingrove or any other? I have taken her to places and been her guide, but I know she feels out of place. However, this changes the minute she sees her history, her faith or any artefact that feels like home.

That’s what art should do. And, most importantly, those who do want to get this work right need to meet people like my mum in the middle. They need to respect them and their heritage.

Syma Ahmed is the BAME development worker at Glasgow Women’s Library. Tabassum Niamat is a former project coordinator for the BAME project at Glasgow Women’s Library