Gaynor Legall

Butetown, Cardiff. 

Date: 2024.

Gaynor Legall, one of the most predominant members of the Butetown community, shares her stories of childhood, family and highlights from her long career and life in Cardiff.

HANNAH RINGANE
What is your name and where do you live?

GAYNOR LEGALL
My name is Gaynor Legall, and I live in Cardiff.

HR
Where did you grow up? What was your home like? And do you have any vivid memories from your childhood?

GL
I grew up in Butetown, which used to be called Tiger Bay, or the Docks. And most of my family still live in the area. I don't. Do I have some vivid memories of my childhood? Yeah. I have very vivid memories of my childhood. I think because I had quite a blessed childhood. We had very little. Some of us had hardly anything at all. But what we did have was community and common purpose and unity. We had adventure.

I think because of the way in which society was set up there, the racism all around us, it was kind of us against the rest of the world. We moved together, [in] friendship groups. And those friendship groups are still ongoing. And I have friends whose grandparents are friends. I think it's a privilege to have been through that kind of childhood, despite all the other disadvantages and handicaps that were thrown at us.

HR
What was your home like?

GL
We lived in a small street in Butetown called Nelson Street. We lived in a terraced house. Our house was owned by someone who lived near us, who owned a number of houses but didn't do any repairs at all. So, our house was sort of falling down around us.

It was a busy home. It was a very happy place. It was a house where we all knew our friends could come and were welcomed. And my grandmother, who was the matriarch of the house, always said you couldn't see anyone without something to drink and a bite to eat. So, you knew you would get fed if you went to my Nana's, to our house.

HR
Could you please describe an average day in your childhood, morning to bedtime?

GL
I don't know if there was an average day. It was sort of organised, a bit chaotic, sort of household. We would get up in the morning. We had no inside running water, so but I thought everybody lived like that, so it was no biggie. In the mornings we would have a washdown; we would have our breakfast. I was very lucky; we were lucky that grew up because um my grandmother believed that there was enough drudgery ahead of us, particularly as women, so we didn't have any chores to do. We didn't do any work around the house. And we weren't forced to eat anything that we didn't like. She would cook sometimes three or four different meals to suit us all.

We would get up, get dressed, and we would walk to school. We had school dinners, which I never ate. After school, we would come home, and so would all my cousins. We'd all meet my nanna’s. And we'd have bread and jam, which we'd toast on a fire in the summer. Or she always had this black iron pot simmering on the grate.

My grandmother cooked on the range. She very rarely used the gas stove in the kitchen. We'd all have a bowl of soup and some bread, and we'd all stay there until it was teatime, and my cousins would go home.

I was a very busy little girl, so I went to guides. I did tap and ballet. I was always doing something. There was a park not far from us, but we played a lot in the street. So, there was no such thing as health and safety. And during the summer, and at the school holidays, we left the house, and we had to be back before dark. That was the only restriction we had.

We wandered the city, and we played in the dock, where we weren't supposed to. The timber floats in the canal, quite dangerous places for kids. But we played there. And then we came home, we ate, and we had a wash down. In those days, people bathed once a week. Because the water had to be brought in. But my mother was quite… she was deemed quite fussy so we had to have a complete wash down every night before we could go to bed.

HR
You went to school in South Church Street. What did your school and your way to school look like?

Well, it was only about 10 minute walk from where I lived, so we just walked along the streets, picked up our friends as we went along. The school was an old building, four stories high. I absolutely hated my time in my primary school. I think it was quite brutal and they had little, if any, aspirations for us. The teachers had been there since Adam was a boy, and I think they just couldn't be bothered anymore. So, I didn't enjoy primary school at all.

They had an odd system: if you were naughty, you got moved into a class where there was a man teacher, who could control you; and if you were bright, you moved up.

At one stage, I ended up about five classes ahead of me, one because I was bright and two because I was naughty. So, you know, you got mixed up. That was their way of dealing with you, handling.

HR
Do you have any particular inklings why your school was like that or why your teachers didn't care?

GL
I think they'd been there for a long time. Three of the teachers taught my mother. Wow. They ruled, they taught by fear. You were okay if you were kept to the rules, behaved yourself, and didn't stand out in any way. If you did, then you were in trouble. So, I was constantly in trouble in school and constantly getting the cane. If the head teacher, Mr Jess Corners, couldn't find his cane, he'd use a billiard cue to hit you in the hands with.

Why were they like this? I remember when I was, I don’t know how old, but I was still in primary school, South Church Street, and I went to my uncle and I said, ‘we have a new teacher’. So, I was telling him about it and I said [that] the teacher ‘looked just like that’, and my uncle turned and he said to my auntie, 'You see they look at them with disdain’. I didn't know what disdain meant but I had a dictionary because I've always loved words and I looked up disdain; it took me a while because I didn't know how to spell it, but I found it and I thought, yes, that's what it's about.

You know they had very little thought for us as individuals. If we were actors, we would have been typecast. The best that you could achieve was to get an office job and that was it; there were no expectations that you would do well or go on to a profession of any sort.

HR
That school and the street doesn't exist anymore. Could you please tell us more about this drastic change of Tiger Bay, witnessed by you, and how you personally experienced it?

GL
The demolition, so-called redevelopment of the docks, began in the late 50s. And families started to be moved out, and they were moved to the new estates of Llanrumney, and Fairwater, and some to Tremorfa. The vacated houses would then be boarded up with corrugated iron, so we used to, as soon as the coast was clear, we'd move into some of these houses and they became our dens, where we squeeze through the corrugated iron and we use them as play. The floorboards were often taken up and got chopped up and used as firewood.

The means of demolishing the houses, where… what they called them great big iron balls? Demolition balls?

HR
Yeah, I know what you're on about.

GL
What are they called?

ROBERT OROS
Wrecking balls.

GL
Wrecking balls, yes. So, you'd hear them coming, bang, bang. So you lived with that. You lived with those houses being demolished, and you lived with streets slowly emptying of its occupants.

At the same time, the council were building blocks of maisonettes, and they were building, for the first time I think in Wales, multi-storey flats. They built two blocks of 16-storey flats in the middle of Loudoun Square, which used to be our park. So, the park had been cleared.

As a child, you lived with the upheaval of your friends being moved out. The families being really distressed because having lived in a close community, you were walking into, the unknown, the new estates. You lived with the noise and the dust and the dirt, and you lived in the constant anticipation that it's going to be your turn next, and where were you going to live because the council didn't give choices about where you could go.

So, growing up, as kids you just get on with your life, but that was always in the background. Families saving and buying new furniture for their new houses, and the furniture being stacked and covered, so you couldn't go into that room because the new furniture was in there. It changed our lives completely.

HR
How do you feel like it impacted your community? As in, when you talked about how you came together in terms of shared struggles and oppression, can either be further strengthened through adversities or it can break apart. What happened with the demolition of Tiger Bay? How did that impact your community?

GL
It was devastating. It [had] a devastating impact. Those of us, families who stayed in Butetown, tended to go to the same school. So, our friendship groups continued into schools. It's interesting because not so long ago we were talking with some friends who were moved to Llanrumney in this instance, and they were saying how different it was, and the boys, how many fights they got into, the racism they had to face and still a lot of resentment that they were on their own, because there was still only a couple of families. And the white families that were moved out, the fact that they missed the mix, they missed their friends. In the docks, the Republic of Tiger Bay, a culture had been developed that was a mix-match of all the different religions and cultures from around the country.

Then people were moved into a monoculture and it was difficult for them. It was difficult for us who stayed here. One of my friends [was] just saying her mother came down every single day…every single day, [as] soon as they went to school, she'd come down, and when they were out of school, they all came down and she's knocking people's doors [asking]: ‘Do you want to swap with me? I want to transfer’, until they eventually got transferred back into the docks. So, some people found it harder than others to fit in.

HR
As we're talking about Tiger Bay, do you remember Casablanca?

GL
Yeah. Casablanca originally was called the Metropole and it was a nightclub.

Before it was the Metropole, it was a chapel, Bethel Baptist Chapel. And that closed and it was taken over. I think someone called Annis Abraham, who was also from the Docks and had a number of nightclubs in town as well. I think that was one of his first, [he] bought it. And it was the Metropole.

It was the place you went to. Everybody got dressed up. I was too young to go there then. My cousins did because all the Yanks came. It played the latest music because the Yanks brought the records, you know. And lots of them met their husbands and stuff. It was the place to go, but it was… everybody dressed up and it was a sort of upmarket.

And then it changed and became the Casablanca. It was bought by Leslie and Cyril Clark. So, Leslie Clark, me, Sinclair, Leslie was from the docks in Butetown, and I think Cyril was from Barbados, but I'm not sure. So, he took over and it became the Casablanca.

It has gone through so many changes. It was a club that people came from all over Cardiff. Lots of students came there because of the music and the dance, and everybody was welcomed, and it was good. And then it became one of the places where reggae was played, one of the few places in Cardiff where reggae was played all night.

It was one of the few places that I knew of then where lesbian couples could come and openly and dance together. It was a very inclusive establishment. Then it went through a series of different managers and whoever was managing it put the style of music and the way the place operated on it. It was the place to be.

But the place I and my friends went to most of all was the Stork Club. The Stork Club was where I think the best music was played. It was a mix of music. You got a really good mix of soul; there was ska, it was in the thing then; R&B. Some of the men they'd be all dressed up in their suits and fancy dancing and footwork going on. You had to be a dancer to go in The Stork.

But again, The Stork was over a series of shops. That block's demolished now. And you entered the Stork by a rickety staircase and there was one unshaded bulb at the top of it. And that was the only way in or out, you know, if there had ever been a fire or anything. But it was absolutely, it was the place to be.

HR
Who were important figures in your life when you were a child? And who were your heroes and role models?

GL
Well, one of the most important people in my life was…there were two. One was my grandmother, my nanna, who was a white woman who was Welsh. My nanna was quite feisty, so, when I talked about my grandmother to other places, they assumed she's Black. I don't know why. You know, all people have a wisdom that is universal, I think, and some of the sayings they say are universal. But one of the things my grandmother was very clear and sort of drummed it into us [is] that ‘you know who you are and the rest of them, let them get on with their lives, but you know who you are’.

My grandmother lived through the 1919 race riots and all the fallout from that. She was married to a Black man and had Black children. My grandfather came to this country [when he was] 18-something [years-old]. My grandparents were married in 1901. He came from the colour bar system in the Caribbean. So, he thought [that] these light-skinned children he had were wonderful. My grandmother used to say, 'It doesn't matter what colour their skin is, out there they know what they are and they'd better know what they are'. It was very clear. And she helped me to form, because I think you form your identity. I don't think you're born with one, you're born with all sorts of things. But then in your environment, your circumstances, the social…society around you, the politics and that, they add or take away or whatever. She helped me to form that because she's very clear about being clear about who I was. She was very important to me.

The other person who was important to me was my uncle Robert, who was from Trinidad. My uncle Robert thought I was the bee's knees. He thought I was beautiful; I was exceptional; I was the best thing ever. And for a child growing up with that sort of love and adoration, [it] gives [them] so much confidence.

I've gone lighter skinned since I was born. I was the blackest person in our family. But I don't get enough sun here, so I'm being bleached. Anyway, that's another story. For a Black child, because nothing else: we saw no images of ourselves; we weren't allowed to work in the shops in town; we didn't see any images of ourselves in books or films or whatever.
So, for somebody to make you feel special and important, that is a fantastic foundation. It makes you feel important and so, those two people from the time I was very little were the ones who were instrumental and are my heroes.

In terms of my role models and what influenced me the most, it's where I grew up. You know, that cohesion of different people from different places, Black and white, Christian, Muslim, no religion at all. The learning from those people and those families. That's my role model. It gives me some hope ss a people inhabiting this world. We can accommodate each other. We can live together if we want to. So those are my role models, and those two are my heroes.

HR
What kind of people were part of the community in Tiger Bay? How did they make it a special place?

GL
What type of people? There were all sorts. Good, bad, and the ugly, you know. You name it, it was there. The first time I saw somebody who was gay, I was in primary school, so I didn't know how old I was. A family moved in across the road from us, and the guy was gay. And his friends came to visit him. He was - I would guess - you'd call it a transvestite. He was dressed in a camel air coat and a hat, and his face was fully made up; he stretched it down the street, and everybody was looking, of course.

Then one of the women on the street said, 'Did you see all the makeup he had on?' And the other woman said, 'No, I was looking at his bloody coat; it was beautiful.' He had this gorgeous camel air coat. There were gamblers, there were drunks, there were ordinary hard-working people who worked in the hardest, dirtiest jobs you could imagine. On the ships, always below deck or on the docks. So, there was a mix of people, as I said, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and you could find it all. There were the religious, there were some people who, one family in particular, who spent their lifetime building a mosque. There was a group of sisters who didn't live in the docks but were there all the time and they ran the Angelina Street Mission, which was a Pentecostal mission, and their father had started the Coloured Brethren back in the 1920s and 30s.

57 languages were spoken in the area at the time, and every religion. The only thing, I was saying this the other day, the only religion that I didn't come across growing up was Hindu. I don't know why, probably because of where immigration took place from the Indian subcontinent. But every religion, most languages, all sorts of foods. And we tried it all.

HR
I know this is a very basic question to ask. But how was it living with that many people?

Well, I think I've said, it was fantastic. It was such a rich childhood. And we weren't being taught. We were taken it in as part of our experience. They weren't Jews or Muslims or Arabs. They were friends, our friends. And we moved together as a friendship group. I learned so much, much more than I would ever have learned in school, about religion and its customs, just because of my friends. I learned more about geography than I ever did in school because of where the fathers came from. And the other interesting thing is the politics. I talked about my uncle Robert earlier on. He was the first one who explained to me about the Mau Mau's. It was a derogatory term. And these were freedom fighters.

The politics that went on, mostly with the men, but, the women as well who were involved in the Labour Party. It was the foundation for my life, my adult life.

HR
what about your own heritage and what places and communities do you feel connected to now?

GL
Do you mean in terms of my ancestry or where I came from?

HR
Both. What you feel connected to, what you want to speak about. And following that, what places and communities do you feel connected to now?

GL
Okay, it's quite strange. I am classed… I see myself as Black British. When I have to fill in forms, I put down Black Welsh. One, because I want to emphasise the fact that we are here. We haven't just come from somewhere. And people like me, whose parents and grandparents were here, this is our home. Don't try and classify us differently. People get confused between nationality, ethnicity, etc. My ethnic origins, my ethnicity is African Caribbean. That shows in my physical appearance.

In terms of where I feel at home - when I've been in other countries, I know where my home is. Because I see the difference, I feel the difference.

HR
What does that feel like to you?

GL
I feel like a tourist. I felt like a tourist in the Caribbean. I was called Hinglish. I was walking down the street and I thought, ‘how do they know?’. Because we walk differently, we walk too quickly, we hold ourselves differently, all sorts of things like that.

When I worked in London and part of my job was meeting lots of different community groups, trying to form into groups that could respond to government policy change, I was always asked what island do I come from? Everybody wants to put you into some sort of little pigeonhole. I always said [that] I'm from Cardiff. And then they say, ‘yeah, but you know, your parents’. And Black people get annoyed because white people say, 'But where are you really from?' But Black people say it too. They say it in a different way. They mean it in a different way. They're looking for kinship.

White people ask that question because they want to say, 'We knew you weren't one of us’, but they still ask the question because people feel more comfortable if they can categorise you... But my home is here, my home is Cardiff

HR
After school, you said you went to London for a little bit. Did you look for work straight away? Were you able to travel or start a family?

GL
I left school, I failed my 11 plus. So, as did all the kids from South Church Street, I think, some passed the first half. Anyway, the boys went to Ninian Park School, and some went to others, but the majority went to Ninian Park School.

The majority of girls went to a Grangetown Council, unless they were Catholic and then they went to Catholic schools. I left school at 16 and I did a course in nursery nursing, and then when I finished the course, I did SRN training, and then I left that and I went wandering. I went to live in America for a while. Then I came back and I trained as a social worker.

HR
What were the highlights and challenges of my adult life?

GL
Well, I mean, one of the biggest challenges is that I was only 18 when I had my daughter. Bringing up a child and still, I wanted to do what I wanted to do. I wasn't clear what that was, but I knew I wasn't going to work in a factory. I wanted to be everything, to be honest. Singer, entertainer, doctor, scientist. Interested in everything, wanted to do everything. But with a small child, the limitations, [and] because of where I came from and my family, that wasn't a problem for me because I didn't have to worry about babysitters or whatever. I'm sorry, I lost the last part of your question.

HR
No worries, and the highlights, something that your favourite memory perhaps from your adult life.

GL
I don't know, I think that I've had a very interesting life. It hasn't been an easy life, but it's been an interesting one. I've been able to do lots of things and meet lots of people that other folk would not have had the opportunity. I've been lucky in that I'm one of these people who I'm an interferer. In my life's journey where I've seen there are inadequacies, no service provision or injustices, I've wanted to do something about it and I've worked with others to make some changes, and I'm quite proud of some of the changes and the organisations we've set up.

I was heavily involved in Wales' Anti-Apartheid movement and cried when Nelson Mandela was released; it was funny because he was released on the launch day of the Wales Refugee Council, which is another organisation I was involved in establishing. So we broke off just to celebrate that.

Seeing my daughter grow up and have children of her own - that's an achievement, that's something that I'm really proud of. The fact that I'm still alive, is an achievement. And the fact that I've been able to earn my living in ways in which I choose is a major achievement for me.

HR
How about your parents, your grandparents, your ancestors? What did they do? Where were they born? Where did they live? Are there any particular memories or histories when it comes to them?

GL
I know nothing about my father's family except that most of the men die before they're 60. There is a genetic heart problem and my brother had it, my brother died a couple of years ago. My father was from Belize, Central America, so I've been there and met some of the family, but I don't know anything about it.

My mother's side of the family - my grandmother was born in Cardiff and my grandfather was born in Jamaica. My grandfather, we were little, and my grandfather would wind up gramophone. And on a Saturday night, he'd put some calypsos on, and he'd teach me how to shake my hips. We listened to a few calypsos, and then he put 'God Save the King' on, and we'd all have to go to bed.

HR
That was our goodnight song?

GL
Yeah.

And we had to go to church. We went to the mission, and we went to Sunday school. My grandfather, evidently, was quite strict, but he died before I grew up.

My grandmother was a strong personality, and it was her house that we all went to, and we lived in. And I've told you about her and her legacy. My Uncle Robert, who was my hero, was married to my mother's sisters, and they had one son. So, yeah, my family and my cousins are really important to me.

HR
Are there any particular challenges you've found while growing up? How about later in life?

GL
Well, the challenge of… the same. What I keep saying now is it's the same dance, different tune. So, racism is still around. It presents itself in different ways now. The discrimination against particular groups, the way in which the world responds to particular groups of people. I'm thinking about Gaza and I think to myself, have we not learned any lessons from history? This is apartheid. This is what happened in Nazi Germany, but it's the Israelites, the Israelis who are doing it.

The challenges are, I think for me, helping people to know about history and hopefully to learn from it so that we don't keep making the same mistakes. The challenge is about trying to get wider acceptance of people. You know, people are people. They come with a whole load of baggage. But to accept them as they are without trying to put them into a category that then we feel we can handle, you know, take them as they are. I think that is one of the biggest challenges.

I used to say I want to improve the world for my daughter. Now, I'm talking about my granddaughter, because she's still facing some of the challenges. The hatred of dark-skinned people that perpetuates itself. We're not touching it. It's going on. I think that is one of the major challenges.

HR
You’ve talked about how racism has still continued, It just looks slightly different. How has it changed in your opinion? What does it look like now compared to what it was like in the past?

GL
In the past, racism was blatant. It was in your face. People called you names with impunity. You were refused jobs with impunity. They just said, 'I didn't like you' or 'we don't employ coloured’.

Now, coloured is part of the words we talk about people of colour. I've never met a colourless person, by the way, so I never quite understand that phrase. But previously, there have been laws that have stopped Black people, and I use that term generically. I'm not talking about the colour of your skin. I'm talking about Black and minority ethnic people. And we have constantly been used as political footballs in terms of migration and immigration. And after the 1919 riots, the government of the day introduced the 1920 Aliens Act, etc. So, it goes back, and we keep doing this; we look for others to blame for the ills of the country, so it's got to be these newcomers into the country. But how it's changed is the people that are being targeted as these ‘nasty people’ change slightly.

On the other hand, we have laws that are about equality and inclusion and diversity. With tricks and between the two of them, you know, we are really between a rock and a hard place because I think our duty is to oppose a lot of the rhetoric around immigration and migration. Racism has changed because it has become more subtle, it has developed its own language, it has developed the whole profession. People are making money teaching others how to be anti-racist. But it persists in different forms and as I said, it's not as in your face as it used to be.

HR
Although you're born much later, [are there] any memories of the riots of 1919 within your community or family?

GL
I am the chair of the Heritage and Cultural Exchange, and we actually did a project and an exhibition on the 1919 race riots.

I live with the memory because my nana had dementia at the end of her life and she thought she was living through them. She talked a lot about them. Every night she'd say, 'Have you barricaded the doors? Have you brought bricks up?' And I'd say, 'Why do you want to bring brick in?'. They'd take the bricks upstairs so, if the rioters broke into the houses, they'd throw them on there. She talked a lot about it. And some other people that we interviewed for the project, although they had the memories from the parents telling them, so their fathers. Generally fathers who were Black, the mother would say, 'You dressed before you went out.' And one woman said to me, 'I used to think, of course he's dressed, you can see.' But she meant his gun.

There are memories. Butetown was protected from the worst of the rioting because the men built barricades across the bridge in Bute Street and stopped people coming in. Black families from Barry and from Grangetown, and that came into the docks for protection. So, they were protected.

Saying about how racism has changed, the response of civic society and of the government, was to put restrictions on the Black men. They had to report to the police station every day. For the first time, the seamen didn't have passports, they had the seamen's books. They had to have passports. They tried forced repatriation and inducements of money for the men to leave. A lot of the things they're doing now, exactly the same things they're doing now.

In terms of that history, I have it in me. It's because I listened to those stories every night for a couple of years and my grandmother went through them.

HR
What are some changes, good or bad, that you've witnessed?

GL
I have [seen] changes in terms of employment. That's one of the things, you know. Now, you still don't see many Black people working in the shops in town, but you do see them. You see Black people in uniform. I'd never seen them as a kid. I'd never seen other than in the pictures. The opportunities for Black people have developed. Thee right to speak up and to speak out is increased, where it was before, you would be locked up, beaten up by the police. That's it that's a major change

The third one, and I think it's really important one, is that young people won't take the same sort of nonsense now. They're standing up and speaking out about their lives and what is happening.

On the opposite side and the bad thing is [that] the opportunities are still not as wide and as open as they could be, I think it's still more difficult. And whilst we are encouraged to join boards, etc. when we're on that board there is a certain expectation of who we are and what we're going to bring.

I think that around the issues of education, there's huge improvements needed. I'm really hopeful about the New Curriculum for Wales. But the structures of education, particularly further education in the university, is still stacked against Black students, particularly foreign students. I think those things need to need to change.

And there are still lots of issues around housing. But I don't know what is going to happen, they are a complex area because, you know, we're in a housing crisis and there’s a housing shortage generally. This and immigration, Oh my goodness. We will, I think, each government, because you can't say it's the Labour Party or the Conservatives, each government has used immigration as a political football and as a way of diverting the attention from the shortcomings of their own government and the bad things that are going on in the world around them.

HR
If you could please speak about a specific decade, it could be the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, etc. How did Cardiff feel during that time or wherever you lived during that time and what events come to your mind when you think about them?

GL
My favourite decade is the 70s.

HR
How come?

GL
Well, I was very politically active. I'd met a group of students in Cardiff University from the Third World Society, and they just opened my eyes to the world and what was going on around there.

I was out and about having a really good time, deeply involved in politics and anti-apartheid, organising demonstrations and stuff. It was the period of my life when I became the most aware, politically aware. I read voraciously all sorts of books by the likes of Fanon and Baldwin and so on and so forth. It formed my thinking around politics and confirmed some of the ideas I had and got rid of some of the other more fanciful ones. So, the 70s were brilliant for me.

HR
If you could talk to your younger self, what would you tell them?

GL
I was asked this question last week. I was. And I would say, when I was 12 or 13, one of my report cards says, from school, Gaynor has a lot of ability. If she stopped interfering and talking to others in the class, she would do have more work. She needs to concentrate and organise herself. So, I tell myself, if I could, to read that and to follow the instructions because very little, unfortunately, has changed in the way I behave.

HR
If you could speak to an ancestor, who you might talk to and what would you ask them?

GL
I think, I don't know what the answer, but I'd speak to my Uncle Robert. And I'd say to him, 'What do you think of me now? Have I done all right? Are you pleased with me? Are you still angry with me now?' Yeah, and I'd want to know the reasons for his answers.

HR
This is the last question, and if possible, could you please look at the camera because you’re going to be speaking to the future. What would you like to say to future generations?

GL
To the future generations, I’d say keep up the good fight. There is no room for complacency. That things may look as though they’re changing, but we have to make sure that the foundations on which we make change, the foundations on which we're building, that new structure, are really safe and secure. That needs working together, partnership, allyship, and persistence.

HR
Thank you so much!