This morning after seeing what I thought was a deeply stereotypical and offensive article on the Guardian’s website today- http://m.guardian.co.uk/culture/2011/may/28/tribes-of-manchester?cat=culture&type=article , I feel I need to put the facts straight and give you the truth about my fair city.
“Dressed head-to-toe in Reebok or Nike, tracksuit bottoms tucked into socks, the shaven-headed, perma-scowling scally is an object of much fear and/or derision in Manchester. You may laugh. You may sneer. But the scally “look” is an indigenous north-west street style.” -Look around Manchester as I do many times and there are few that actually do dress like that. With the Arndale centre being the UK’s largest inner city shopping centre, we have many places where we can purchase our style thank you.
Manchester has a cultural legacy as being a centre of music, with the likes of Oasis hailing from our fair city, and key historical significance as being a centre of cotton production earning it the name Cottonopolis. Manchester also has been at the forefront for calling for greater political recognition, one such riot ended with the Peterloo Massacre of 16 August 1819. Manchester has a notable place in the history of Marxism and left-wing politics; being the subject of Friedrich Engels‘ work The Condition of the Working Class in England in 1844; and a place where both Engels and Marx both met to think. The first Trades Union Congress was held in Manchester, from 2 to 6 June 1868. Manchester was also an important cradle of the Labour Party and the Suffragette Movement with the Pankhursts dwelling here. This theme of left wing outlook can be seen at the council elections this year, when Manchester voted out Lib Dem councillors in order to secure the city for Labour (Ed et al, are you interested now), truly showing the government that we oppose their policies.
Most of all despite this impressiveness, what I love most about my city is the people for the most part who I have encountered are amongst the most friendly people. Many of my friends from London have remarked about how strange it is that we say thank you to bus drivers for instance, something that comes second nature to us. We know we have rough spots as a result of 80′s deprivation, yet I ask you, what other cities do not have such rough parts? After the bombing of 1996, Manchester has turned itself around with massive regeneration and who can forget the commonwealth games in 2002, where we put on a show.
What I’m saying here is that we deserve respect for what we are as a city, not crude stereotypes from a newspaper that used to actually be named “the manchester guardian”. We have offered much to the nations story and we can continue to offer much more in the future.
In pouring rain, I walk the streets of my Manchester,
The city of King Cotton,
Grand buildings, the criss crossing canals bear witness to his distant reign,
Distant, yet not forgotten.
The city of Marx, Engels, Pankhurst, of Peterloo,
Of the dream of a world much fairer,
No matter the cost, we raise our voice unafraid, unafraid of the tryant’s sabre.
I walk the streets of my city,
Buildings of gothic stone and modern steel stand side by side,
In the hallowed stands of the Theatre of Dreams, proudly my heart pounds, a beat I cannot hide.
To a city where the blood of culture and history run through its veins,
A rainsoaked rival to Paris or Rome,
I raise a glass to Manchester, my cradle, my home.