I was at the BAFTA Awards – and while hearing the word ‘nigger’ is unsettling, all the anger should be directed at the BBC | Jason Okundaye

I He attended the BAFTA Awards on Sunday. I arrived early enough to hear an introduction to John Davidson, the Tourette’s syndrome campaigner on whom the biopic I Swear was based. He stood to wave and receive applause, and we were told that because of his TS, we might expect to hear involuntary vocal outbursts, known as tics, and that we should understand that the Baftas are an inclusive space where all people are welcome.

Perhaps half the people were listening, while others were talking on their phones or engaging in light chatter. But the tics were immediately audible. When host Alan Cumming was on stage we heard the word “boring” and there was laughter. As Sarah Boot, the outgoing BAFTA president, spoke, we heard the words “Shut up”, and there was a mixture of silence and confusion. But, as you all know by now, when Sinners actors Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo presented an award that turned the tics from things that could be read as anti-social to things that were more downright offensive, we also heard the N-word. There were gasps and whispers of “Did he just say…?”

Many will wonder what it was like to be a black person in the room at that moment, to hear that inflammatory word, carrying with it a history of generations of pain and brutality. And I suppose you expect that I felt immediately upset or angry about that. In fact, what I felt most was a degree of embarrassment. It was true that Davidson was invited to this place (any suggestion that he should have been confined to a separate room or placed in a soundproof box is clear discrimination) and also that the possibility of tics was mitigated by the disclaimer.

But gosh, isn’t that the worst outcome you could imagine? I even started laughing, thinking about everything that happened here at once. I also felt very sad for Jordan and Lindo, when I saw their faces collapse when they stood on stage to hear that speech. No amount of warning can really prepare you for how the word will send shockwaves through your body. I therefore sympathized with their mental strength and magnanimity to continue in the performance of their duties.

Any conviction of Davidson is not only futile but completely unhelpful. I’ve seen a lot of comments online suggesting that his tics were akin to a Freudian slip, an impulsive communication of thoughts he’s holding internally. But this is a misunderstanding of TS. Coprolalia, a specific tic disorder that results in the utterance of obscene and socially taboo language, is not a communication of unconscious thoughts or desires.

This is not a situation like a white person getting angry at a black person and screaming obscenities. This is akin to saying “Fuck the Queen” while receiving an OBE, as Davidson actually did. It’s something you don’t want to do, but it came out of you without you even thinking about it — and it’s inherently tied to the social context in front of you.

In 2011, the BBC released the documentary Tourette’s: I Swear I Can Sing, which features Ruth Ojadi, a black woman with the condition. The turmoil in her life she described was unimaginable. As for her insults? “No race, caste, gender, sexuality or religion is safe,” she said. Such a condition should only be met with deep sympathy and understanding.

Davidson said he was “very afraid if anyone would consider my tics to be intentional or have any meaning.” Some have criticized this as falling short of a proper apology. But I’m not sure what exactly apologizing to him would do in this case. The reality of the situation is that if Davidson met Lindo or Jordan, or any of the event’s other black attendees, we would likely hear the “N” word again — and it would be no fault of his own.

Some have also framed it as a test of competing rights: the right of people with disabilities to be in a public space, and not to meet black people with racially offensive language. This seems disconnected from reality. And in that space on Sunday, Davidson’s presence alone did not impact my rights or the rights of any other black person. It is an uncomfortable truth that inclusion will be uncomfortable and emotionally complex for a variety of reasons. That this was so slanderous was extremely unfortunate. But TS is not the same as intentional racist abuse.

What I cannot accept is the BBC’s decision not to remove the phrase “the N-word”, even though there was a delay in the broadcast. The producers claimed they “didn’t hear” the slur while working from the trucks. Even if that were the case, Warner Bros, the studio behind Sinners, reportedly raised the issue with BAFTA and was assured that the word would be removed before broadcast. It is also not flattering given that the decision was made to delete “Free Palestine” from Akinola Davis Jr.’s winning speech. Why didn’t anyone talk to Jordan and Lindo after the incident?

In the past few years in the UK, we have seen race riots and far-right demonstrations, while public discourse around race has deteriorated – and ethnic and religious hate crimes have increased in England and Wales. In this context, the intense anger towards two black actors can seem like the culmination of a broader societal breakdown. In this way, everyone failed – he made Davidson look like the embodiment of British racism, leaving black people feeling confused and angry while being told to remain graceful and tolerant.

I left the room feeling understood, even if a little upset by the incident. But I felt more sad because of the broadcaster’s negligence. This episode could have been an appropriate opportunity for awareness and education. However, it seems that our institutions remain woefully unfit to meet this moment.