England has a preoccupation with roses. Whatever the reason – my theory is because they are usually red, white or pink, accurately representing your average Brit on holiday – they're all over our culture, from warring royal houses to our sports teams to the gardens we're apparently famous for. Roses are also my favourite flower. I'm not sure why I like them so much. Embarrassingly, I suspect it may have started at a young age because the name sounds so similar to 'Ro'. My parents' garden is full of roses, those beautiful pale pink ones that come out in late June. I remember occupying myself in the pre-Freeview TV days watching the bumble bees (which I liked on the basis that they are fluffy) flying in and out of them, doing whatever it is that bees do that makes them vital to human survival.
I support England's decision to adopt the rose as its national flower. Its decision to leave the European Union, well. I'm not so sold on that.
This morning I woke up and saw that Vote Leave had won, and I felt sick and scared. The pound had already plummeted in value. My French housemate was in tears. Most unsettlingly, Donald Trump had said that something we'd done was a good idea. When Donald Trump, a man so detached from reality that I'm fairly convinced his presidential bid is an SNL sketch gone rogue, thinks you're doing the right thing it's time for a serious re-evaluation.
I wanted to stay in the EU for a number of reasons, not least because I spent one of the best years of my life living in two wonderful European countries effectively for free thanks to it. (If it wasn't for the EU this blog wouldn't exist. Think about that, Brexit readers, if I have any.) But this is not the place to explain why we should have stayed; more educated and eloquent people than I tried and failed to do that. I accept the left-wing reasons to leave, and, while I certainly don't agree with the right-wing ones, I acknowledge that they are not all based on the concept 'ewww, foreigners'.
Neither campaign has acted particularly honourably, but one side has been far more marked by rhetoric that preaches hatred and selfishness than the other, and I don't plan to insult your intelligence by pointing out which one. I care less about the economy than I do about the huge number of people who have been manipulated into blaming foreign people and foreign institutions for problems caused by policies that are enacted here at home. Looking at social media, it's clear that one thing both camps have in common it is a dissatisfaction with the way in which the UK has taken care of its poorest. As much as I love an excuse to be a drama queen, it's not the people like me, people with degrees from top 10 universities and middle-class parents to fall back on, who are going to suffer the most if the worst Brexit predictions come true. Tragically, a lot of the people who will voted for it.
Outside the front of my house, where I live on the edge of north Bristol – just two or three minutes from the now-famous mural of Boris Johnson and Donald Trump celebrating their mutual love of aggressive capitalism with a chaste kiss – there is a tall bush. It hides the front windows from the street and stops people from sitting on the wall. Yesterday morning I looked out of my window and noticed for the first time that a rose had grown up through it. It was pale pink, like the ones in my parents' front garden. I found myself looking at it for several minutes, seemingly for no reason other than I thought it was pretty. It stood out among the green, and especially above the three rubbish bins that sat beneath it. On some level it reminded me that there are things still to like about where I live, and the people with whom I live. In my preoccupation I lost track of time and had to run to work. A lesson in the perils of sentimentality if ever there was one.
When things go wrong, whether it's a break-up, a job loss or the potential economic collapse of an entire continent, it's easy to feel like it'll never be better again. Today my social media feeds were full of people expressing their devastation at the results of the referendum. In a perverse way it's heartening, as it shows that there are plenty of young people in this country who do care deeply about this issue, despite being labelled as apathetic and politically inactive. My initial reaction to the news was similar, but then I asked myself: what's the point? What's the point in being upset?
The point is to channel it into something productive. Being scared and being upset is normal and OK, and you shouldn't feel bad about feeling that way, but bad feeling alone doesn't achieve anything. In this case, neither does relentless optimism, which is my default setting in life most of the time. Sometimes it's OK to stick your head in the sand and not think about the thing that's stressing you out. In this case, it's turning your back on something that you think is going to damage the lives of the people around you. Those of us who wanted the UK to remain in the EU for various reasons are now faced with the task of trying to build the kind of country we want to live in. It's an uphill battle. Our future is as uncertain now as I can ever remember it being, which is why action and unity are so necessary.
How can you do something positive in such a bleak political climate? Pressure groups and going to demonstrations are an obvious answer. People claim they are ineffective, but this doesn't have to be the case. In Slovenia, student protests successfully halted government plans to introduce tuition fees. The civil rights movement in the USA started with one woman on one bus. Even if you're not able to change legislation, you might win a few more voters to the cause. Another way to protect the rights that people are so scared to lose post-EU is to join a trade union. I'd bet good money that at least 80% of the people who read this post aren't a member. Join one. Unions have been painted as the root of all evil by those who want working people to have as little say in how they're treated as possible. Ignore them. Why do you think Italians get 6 weeks of annual leave a year? Unions. Why do you think France has such strong national services? Unions. Even if you don't need one, joining helps strengthen them for the members who will. If you care about workers' rights joining a union is going to help you far more than crying into your keyboard (although I do recommend both, as well as binge-eating Jaffa Cakes).
As with most things, my views have changed with age, and I imagine they will continue to do so. One thing, however, remains constant, and it is my belief that we should not let the lowest in society drag us down. Earlier this year mass-murderer and neo-Nazi Anders Brevik won a case against his prison, where he was being held for the murder of children. He successfully prosecuted them for violating his human rights. This caused outrage – why should a man who supported such a disgusting movement and committed such a disgusting crime have his rights respected? There are many answers, but the most important is that it doesn't matter what he deserves; it matters what the people of Norway deserve. Why should their rights be eroded away because of one of the worst members of their society? Why should the country lower itself for, and I don't enjoy using this phrase but here it is apt, a piece of scum?
And now it's time for us to look at our society and make sure we are not dragged down by out lowest members, those who want to spread discord and keep us weak and scared. Even if you're happy with the result, I think we can all agree that some horrendous people have reared their heads during this referendum. A lot of them are racist. One of them shot a public servant dead. If we pander to these people then we lose. If we allow their existence to make us despair of our entire country then we lose. Hate groups, from ISIS to the EDL, thrive where there is fear and division. They want to ruin your faith in people. Don't let them. The inexplicable success of Ed Sheeran has done enough damage there already.
Every day when I leave for work I can see the bins and I can see the rose. I see the fear and the disappointment that people are feeling, but I also see their potential to act and make real change. I am sad, but I am also strong. I am fearful, but I am also hopeful. Both the bins and the rose exist. I shouldn't ignore either of them. But I'm only going to be smelling one of them.
