As ‘Dreams and Songs to sing’ at Cartwright Hall is being to draw to end (The final day of the exhibition is on the 8th September), we wanted to share a couple more of the stories from the community that are in the exhibition
First is Violet’s story
I was born in the BRI Hospital. Our trailer was pulled with one set of grandparents or the other, I don’t know which.
We went up and down the country, but Bradford was home. Going to Wapping Road Primary School, playing with my cousins on Bolton Road and Tong Street, learning to ride my blue bird bike dressed like as Wonder Woman on Mary Street, visiting Aunt Maggie Ann and Aunt Margaret on Esholt site. My childhood is Bradford. My memories are Bradford!
The first time I read Roald Dahl, the first time I worked out 2+2 will always be 4.
Where I learned to ice skate, my first dog… all Bradford.
When we were living on the car park of the old prospect public house, my Mam got a job. She helped set up Bradford Councils Travellers Education Service as it was. She would pick us up from school and then we would play on the computers in her office and learn instruments.
In that office I fell in love with the green Berol Italic pen. It made that red handwriting pen I’d worked so hard for seem so worthless. I wanted to be a writer and change people’s world with my words, if only for a short while. She stayed there for a while, but decided that the system was racist and the service had no power to change it. It’s sad to think 30 years later, she was right!
I tried to enrol in Bradford University when I was in my late 20’s. I wanted a degree. I spoke to the equalities admission person, explained how hard it would be and asked what support was available.
“Maybe your community aren’t ready for higher education” he responded.
He broke my heart and seemed to confirm everything my family was saying. That I’ve done fine without it, I don’t need it. I went down to Mary street and told my aunt. Her response nailed the coffin shut.
“I think you might have took this education thing far enough, don’t you?”
My mams drive for change, drove me. I wanted to be like her; she was and always will be my hero.
So I’ve been working for change in mine and other Traveller communities for over 27 years. Pretty much as soon as I could earn I was earning through activism. First at Bradford Council, then Leeds GATE. I was their first full time employee. Then over to Doncaster. I’m now CEO of York Travellers Trust and Chair Person of Moving for Change. In a way I feel I’ve come full circle. The University of York recently gave me an Honorary Degree in recognition of my work and I became an author in my early 30’s. My autobiography Gypsy Princess was in the Sunday Times bestseller list for weeks.
But I’ll always continue to fight for our communities. I will always have hope and I will always sing my song for change, my song of hope.
Annie Dear’s Story (1948-2021)
Annie was born in York 1948, the oldest of 10 children.
She married her husband Pa and had 7 children. Her oldest son Holly died at the age 28. Annie never got over the loss of her son but carried on to look after her grandchildren as she promised her son she would.
Annie was an amazing mother and fantastic grandmother to all 31 of her grandchildren. Four generations of her family have lived and continue to live on Mary Street site in Bradford to this day. Her daughter, granddaughter and great-granddaughter are all also featured in the exhibition photos.
She was a great voice for the members of Mary street site and wasn’t afraid to say what she thought. She fought so hard to get, among many things, fencing on the site, for the safety of residents and their children. Eventually all her hard work paid off with the fencing being fitted years later. Unfortunately Annie wasn’t around to see them done as she passed away in 2021.
Annie was a great role model and is sadly missed by everyone that knew her. We are all trying to improve people’s quality of life in Bradford and West Yorkshire, as Annie’s passion for Mary Street site and her community continues to be an inspiration.
