While narrating the audio version of my new book, The Good, the Black and the Boujee, came a revelatory reminder of why many black Britons see middle class status as a “white people ting”. After a recording session, I headed upstairs to see if I could find any friendly faces from my publisher before heading out into the sweltering heatwave for my cycle home. To my disappointment, I found a near-empty office floor, and left minutes later. Donning my helmet, I joined the middle class commuters who regularly left the office in cycling gear.

As I approached the exit, something peculiar happened: I was met with a friendly expression of relief from the reception staff. The building had received a concerned report about a potential intruder on the top floor, they told me. The intruder was believed to be a rogue courier who had somehow passed the loading bay and made it into the editorial offices. It took me a moment to realise – the intruding courier was … me.

Although I was amused rather than offended, the misunderstanding joined a chorus of similar anecdotes. In 2020, Edward Enninful, the first black editor-in-chief of Vogue, revealed that he had also been mistaken for a courier at the publication by security. In court, black barristers say they are assumed to be defendants. Black politicians say they are assumed to be support staff in the Houses of Parliament. While these are mundane and momentary examples of social profiling, they reveal a more interesting truth. A black professional class has significantly expanded, but the meaning of blackness in Britain is unchanged in the public imagination.

***

Wielding significant influence

In Britain, to be black is to be assumed to be working class. This means that class differences between the black working class and the emergent black bourgeoisie are made invisible. Black British people who have gained the closest proximity to power are predominantly those who were either born middle class, or quickly initiated into it. Yet, although this social group has the power to wield significant cultural and political influence, they are a relatively young social group of barely 50 years old. As a result, their sensibility and behaviour has largely been ignored until now.

Facing a data desert on this salaried group, I decided to undertake a wide ranging study of 1,460 black professionals. I gathered insights into their wealth, education and political decisions. My research revealed three groups that make up the black British middle class: a precarious “emerging black middle class” from the ends; a “traditional black middle class”, who were often racial minorities in their social lives; and a “black elite”, including influential families like the Casely-Hayfords, but also those self made, such as Stormzy or the business executive Dean Forbes.

***

Whose black lives mattered?

I began the odyssey of writing this book at a pivotal moment for the black middle class – the aftermath of 2020, when the Black Lives Matter movement moved from the margins to the mainstream. Many black people were beginning to demand a seat at the table. I saw a protest placard quoting the lyrics of Jay-Z, exalting the rise of black excellence. When donations poured into the coffers of BLMUK by white supporters guilted into penance, its leftist leadership faced criticism for diverting some donations to grassroots campaigns. Some demanded that the funding should have gone to black businesses. I found the criticism was perverse, but revelatory.

After George Floyd’s death, black elites began to speak out in greater voice. Enninful’s story of profiling, for example, was made in a moment of public reckoning, when stories of racism were suddenly more en vogue than anything that had graced his magazine covers. This elite also temporarily grew during this BLM boom due to a concentrated attempt to expand black representation in the upper echelons. There were successes: from the first black British photographer to shoot British Vogue’s front cover, to high profile appointments of privately educated black figures to the boards of major institutions like the Southbank Centre and National Portrait Gallery. The black middle class appear the biggest beneficiary of the BLM movement, although their success has been cyclical.

Today, the black presence in these professions is facing an onslaught of political and legal challenges. A campaign to give internships to black students is being aggressively challenged, and the rightwing press currently runs pieces criticising the senior black appointments of major institutions that they believe have been “DEI hires”.

I am convinced that a material opportunity for wider racial justice was hijacked by Britain’s aspirational elites who sought to consolidate their class positions. During the 2020 protests internet personalities with little historical knowledge were propelled as voices of black Britain, but had no grasp of the scholarship or activism detailing how we got here. Meanwhile, the demands of the UK BLM movement were diffuse, but many crystallised around the call for more representation in media or on boards and higher pay for black influencers over issues like racial bias in housing that affect the black people disproportionately in poverty. The irony was the racial justice protests took place during the UK’s most diverse government in history, damaging faith in electoral politics to deliver for black voters.

***

A precarious class position

In black Britain a pervasive, underlying status anxiety has grown within the emergent middle class. A class position that once promised security, is now precarious. In 2001, about 70% of all black people in Britain lived in London; 25 years later, that figure is under 50%, despite the majority of professionals I surveyed saying they’d like to live in the city if they could afford to. Today, a generation of black professionals approaching middle age have acquired multiple degrees, earn a middle income or above and cultivate elite tastes, yet are unlikely to ever afford a house in their home borough.

Middle class status anxieties even express themselves in the sphere of lifestyle and dating. When black content creators’ viral complaints are not focused on elite representation, they are often focused on social mobility through dating. Among the under-40s, there are endless discussions on the absence of suitable black men in the dating pool, reflecting the fact that black women’s social mobility has outpaced their male counterparts. Other online debates include hand-wringing over which types of black people get represented through media opportunities like book deals. Asinine questions like “are mixed-race people black” place a similar superficial emphasis on aesthetics, rather than material conditions.

***

What’s the future of the black and boujee?

You’d be forgiven for wanting to escape this all. Only one in three of the black professionals I surveyed wanted to remain in the UK, and this was before the rise of Reform, the latest incarnation of the nations’ anti-migrant movement. Desired destinations included Canada and Dubai. And, of course, the U.S. Despite its political turmoil, America boasts better salaries, stronger social infrastructure through black university networks, and an even more visible black elite. Just ask the new British Black Panther, David Jonsson.

Black Britain itself is at an interesting crossroads, and it is hard to say which future path it will take. One road is further assimilation into white Britain, with high rates of interracial marriage between Caribbean and white families over a few short generations. I can imagine a future of mas bands at Notting Hill carnival made up of fair-skinned masqueraders with very distant Caribbean heritage, or school classrooms filled with blonde, blue-eyed children answering to Yoruba, Igbo or Ga names.

Another is more global. We are increasingly connected to the transnational black diaspora identity joined by the internet. Migration and marriages across the black Atlantic might create a future marked by fluidity and cross-border movement, where Britain is a place of convergence and memory. Although black Britons have become middle class just as the entire middle is being squeezed, at no point in history has there been a black presence in Europe with greater social, cultural and economic power. The question is what will they build with it? The answer belongs to the good, the black and the boujee.

Tap in

Are you Black and boujee? Is middle class aspiration an abandonment of the Black struggle, or is it possible to do both? Tell us your thoughts by emailing us at thelongwave@theguardian.com and we may include your response in a future issue.

Diaspora discusses

Last week, we looked at the rising cost of box braids, and the social and economic pressures impacting customers and braiders. Here’s what you thought:

As a salon owner, I see both sides every day. Clients are understandably asking why braids have become more expensive, but many don’t see what happens behind the scenes. Braiding is physically demanding work that takes years to master. Yet many talented braiders leave the industry because the pay often isn’t enough to build a sustainable career, save for a home or see a long-term future working for someone else. The shortage of experienced braiders also pushes costs up. Training takes time and salons are balancing rising business costs alongside paying people fairly. It’s a complex issue. – Fola, based in London

I like to see why the least I’d pay for braids is $200 because at the end of the day, most times in New York City, it’s one lady standing for about 6/7 hours braiding my hair. I think where I started to lose connection was when the attachment (braiding extensions) started to feel like the same exact price as getting my hair done. Human hair this, human hair that; it feels like we’ve turned something as basic and simple as braids to having a bussdown. – Fayobomi Olusola-Falodun, based in New York

I’m all for paying good, reliable braiders what they’re worth. Braiding is a skill, and skilled work deserves fair pay. But can we talk about some of these new rules? Being charged extra if your hair isn’t blow-dried bone straight? Excessive heat for what’s meant to be a protective style? The insistence on using huge amounts of gel? What happened to prioritising healthy hair? Customers should come with clean, detangled hair, absolutely. But expecting everyone to apply unnecessary heat or products that may not suit them shouldn’t be the standard. Prices have increased significantly, yet in many cases the overall service and attention to hair health haven’t improved alongside them. – Adenikè Z, based in London