#DoreenLawrence

February did not whisper, it exposed. From the BAFTA stage to global politics, from representation to real power, this month forced uncomfortable conversations into the open. In this Editor’s Letter, Dr Diahanne Rhiney interrogates visibility, hierarchy, solidarity, and the cost of performative progress. If you care about power, equity, and the responsibility of independent Black media, this is a reflection you won’t want to miss.

When Dom Taylor quietly exited one of London’s most prestigious hotel kitchens, the whispers travelled fast. Now, two years later, he’s back and this time in Dalston, on his own terms. In this latest review, Paloma Lacy revisits The Good Front Room to discover whether the chef’s bold mission to elevate Caribbean cuisine still holds its magic. From refined jerk to reimagined ackee and saltfish, this is more than a comeback, it’s a statement.

By Dr Diahanne Rhiney, Editor in Chief, Black Wall St Media It was meant to be a night of celebration at the British Academy of Film and Television Arts — a polished tribute to craft, creativity and cultural progress. Instead, the 2026 BAFTAs left many viewers sitting with an altogether different emotion: disbelief. During a ceremony broadcast by the BBC, a racial slur rang out while Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo stood on stage. The context, we later learned, was complex. The impact was not. In this piece, Dr Diahanne Rhiney examines what happens when commitments to inclusion collide — when disability, race, editing decisions and institutional responsibility converge under the brightest lights. This is not a call for outrage. It is a call for competence, care and courage. Because representation without protection is not progress. And when harm is foreseeable, silence is not neutrality — it is a choice.

Britain rarely announces regression. It administers it quietly. Across housing, policing, employment and public services, the institutions designed to confront discrimination are being thinned out, under-resourced, and politically restrained. Not abolished — just softened. This is a story about what happens when oversight falls silent, and why the cost of that silence will be paid by those with the least protection.

Bristol has lost more than a community activist. It has lost a conscience. Ras Judah — born Judah Adunbi — stood at the crossroads of protest and purpose for more than four decades. From the fires of St Pauls in 1980 to the painful spotlight of 2017, he never stopped organising, mentoring, and holding institutions to account. This is not simply a tribute. It is a reminder of the standard he set — and the responsibility he leaves behind.