From Broken Silence to Rising Sound: Kings Heath and the Making of Communities of Resistance

By Mukhtar Dar

It began with a brutal act of violence. On the night of March 29th, 2023, a 73-year-old Muslim man was ambushed on York Road in Kings Heath. Walking home from the mosque after Ramadan prayers, he was kicked in the back by three racist thugs, subjected to Islamophobic abuse—called a "raghead"—and left unconscious in a pool of blood, with a broken hand and severe facial injuries.

But while the attackers sought to instil fear, what followed was something they never anticipated: a tidal wave of solidarity.

What could have faded into just another headline instead ignited a movement. Residents—of all faiths, backgrounds, and ethnicities—gathered at the site of the attack to hold a vigil. They didn’t wait for council approval or official statements. They organised themselves, stood together, and transformed grief into action.

From that moment was born Kings Heath United Against Racism (KHUAR), a grassroots force made up of anti-racist activists, local venue owners, artists, and concerned neighbours. They took inspiration from A. Sivanandan’s enduring principle: “Build from below.” Cases become issues. Issues become causes. Causes become movements. And movements—when they reach beyond their silos—become Communities of Resistance.

The family of the victim, Mr. Naseem, stood with them. And together, they created the Unity Weekender, a festival that stretched across three days and multiple venues in May 2023. There were no corporate sponsors or state grants. Just sound systems, microphones, paintbrushes, banners, and resolve. Local venues like Fletchers Bar, Kitchen Garden Café, Hare & Hounds, The Juke, and The Station flung open their doors, offering space, staff, and equipment for free.

But something else happened in the process—something just as powerful as the events themselves. The friendships among those who organised the events had been forged over years of shared experience: through living in the same neighbourhoods, facing similar challenges, and raising children in the same schools. Some were old friends, reunited through a renewed sense of purpose. Their relationships were transformed into comradeship—not just affection, but collective resolve. In the fire of organising, new alliances were also forged—between neighbours who had never met before but now stood shoulder to shoulder, united by a deep concern for the future of their community and a shared vision of what it could become. What bound them together was not only outrage at injustice, but a common belief in the possibility of a more just, more beautiful, more human world.

It was out of these multiple converging experiences—resistance, grief, joy, solidarity—that something new and enduring took root: Kalab Lounge – No Place for Hate. A monthly live music night at Fletchers Bar that has now entered its third year, Kalab Lounge isn’t just entertainment—it’s a platform, a politicised space, and a radical act of collective joy. Run through a partnership between a venue, a network of community activists, and local musicians, Kalab Lounge is fiercely independent. It does not rely on state arts funding. That means no strings, no censorship, no compromise.

Kalab Lounge refuses to dilute its message to appease funders or conform to the “acceptable” boundaries of state-sanctioned multiculturalism. Nowhere was this stance more powerfully expressed than at the Palestine Weekender—a multi-venue cultural resistance event that spilled into the streets. York Road came alive with a live music stage, stalls showcasing Palestinian arts, crafts, and political education, and Palestinian flags draped from every lamppost. Kings Heath was transformed into a vibrant, public declaration of solidarity and unity with the people of Palestine. The event clearly positioned the Palestinian struggle as an anti-racist, anti-apartheid, and anti-colonial movement.

In a climate of growing repression—where artists and organisers are routinely silenced for expressing solidarity with Palestine—Kalab Lounge held the line. Speakers, poets, musicians, and muralists gave voice to a reality too often erased: that Britain is not a neutral actor. It is complicit—politically, economically, and militarily—in the Israeli state’s apartheid policies and brutal occupation. The weekender raised funds for Medical Aid for Palestinians and the Palestine Solidarity Campaign, helping cover coach costs for activists travelling to national demonstrations. But more than that, it raised consciousness—deepening political understanding and strengthening collective resolve in the face of ongoing genocide.

But before that Weekender unfolded, another shock hit Kings Heath—a tragedy that pierced the community once again. In the early hours of Wednesday, April 26th, 2023, a 33-year-old man was stabbed to death on Kings Heath High Street, just metres from the local police station. Despite the best efforts of paramedics, he died at the scene.

This time the violence wasn’t racially motivated, but it was no less political. It was a reflection of what years of austerity, youth marginalisation, and welfare erosion had done to the fabric of our streets. Disaffected, abandoned young people—without support, hope or community—turned against one another in desperation. The violence was tragic, but it was also symptomatic.

Within days, KHUAR mobilised again. On Saturday, April 29th, over 300 residents gathered at the site of the murder for a wreath-laying ceremony and a one-minute silence. Flowers were tied to the railings where the man took his last breath. Ruchi Tandon from KHUAR addressed the crowd with quiet defiance: “How could we not respond to this horrific murder on our High Street?”

What unfolded wasn’t just mourning. It was a reckoning. A call to see the connections—between racist assaults and social abandonment, between Islamophobia and street violence, between systemic neglect and the lives that fall through the cracks. And once again, Kings Heath didn’t flinch. It faced the pain head-on and responded with collective care.

The independence of Kalab Lounge enables it to be honest. Its programming is bold, intersectional, and unapologetically political. And that politics doesn’t stay within four walls. In early 2024, when Reform UK—a far-right party dressed in populist clothing—announced their "biggest rally to date" at Birmingham’s Utilita Arena, it was KHUAR, through the networks forged at Kalab Lounge, that played a pivotal role in mobilising the counter-protest.

Working as part of Birmingham Stand Up to Racism, KHUAR helped galvanise hundreds to reject hate on the streets. Artists who had performed at Kalab Lounge came forward, offering their talents for free at the counter-rally. Musicians stood side-by-side with trade unionists, youth organisers, and community elders. Speakers condemned not just Reform UK’s rhetoric, but the deeper structures—border regimes, racist policing, austerity, and empire—that make such movements possible.

This is the strength of a united front. KHUAR is not an isolated initiative. It is a vital organ within the larger body of Stand Up to Racism, both in Birmingham and nationally. And within this formation, it plays a crucial role: cultural-political organiser, movement builder, and public educator.

One powerful offshoot of KHUAR, alongside Kalab Lounge, is the Poetic Justice series—events that have platformed a new generation of poets and spoken word artists. These are not just performances, but acts of resistance: poetry that speaks to migration, identity, racism, feminism, colonialism, and imperialism. Their words bear witness to both past and present struggles for justice, illuminating the realities of our times and challenging audiences to think, feel, and act. This powerful work culminated in the publication of Poetic Justice: Who Am I – Words of Resistance, an anthology that brings together the voices shaping today’s cultural resistance.

Kalab Lounge itself has become more than an event—it is a living commons. Its regulars are not just an audience; they are a community in resistance. It is also a space of remembrance, where we honour and pay tribute to those who have passed but whose lives were deeply committed to the greater cause—activists, artists, and organisers like Benjamin Zephaniah, Conrad Kelly, and Jiggy Francis, whose spirits continue to inspire the struggle.

There is no ticket price for solidarity. Donations collected during the nights go toward campaigns, crisis funds, and upcoming actions. We also call on our community to support ongoing struggles for justice—most recently, by backing the Justice for Marcus Meade Campaign. Announcements between sets serve as a reminder: music can heal, but it must also fight.

And after the speeches and the live performances, the rhythm always returns. The lights dim. The beat drops. And the dancefloor fills—as Kings Heath’s own DJ Don Simon, an internationally acclaimed music producer, takes to the decks with his specially crafted remixes. Feet stomp and bodies move in unison, surrounded by people who understand that joy is not escapism—it is endurance.

This is how we build. From a single act of violence came a defiant, ongoing act of community. From broken silence rose sound. From outrage, organisation. From York Road to the High Street, from Palestine to Birmingham, from vigils to dancefloors—Kings Heath.

As Sivanandan reminded us, we must build alliances. We must recognise that no single issue is ever isolated. And we must never wait for permission to speak truth.

Join us for the next Kalab Lounge:

Big Ship Alliance + DJ Don Simon

Fletchers Bar, Kings Heath, B14 7SA

Fri 20 June | 9PM – 1AM