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In 2024, Jade Thirlwall, former member of global pop sensation Little Mix, delivered a powerful cover of Stormzy’s Backbone. Her performance wasn’t just a nod to the grime legend but a strikingly personal statement, featuring lyrics that intertwined her identity and heritage with the track’s original themes. As she rapped, “Tell them little haters that I’m proud and Yemeni,” Thirlwall reclaimed her roots in a genre often synonymous with defiance and authenticity. It was a moment that resonated far beyond the music itself, sparking conversations about identity, racism and representation in the entertainment industry.
Thirlwall’s choice to cover Backbone was significant for many reasons. Over the years, she has spoken openly about the racism she endured growing up as a mixed-race child of Yemeni and Egyptian descent. On the No Country for Young Women podcast, she recounted the bullying she faced in school, saying, “I was pinned down in the toilets, and they put a bindi spot on my forehead. It was horrific.” The singer revealed how deeply this affected her self-esteem and her relationship with her heritage. For much of her early career, she avoided speaking about her Arab background, fearing it might make her less relatable or accepted. However, in recent years, Thirlwall has embraced her identity, using her platform to challenge stereotypes and shed light on the struggles faced by marginalised communities. Her rendition of Backbone was a bold declaration of pride and resilience, celebrating her Yemeni roots in a genre that thrives on unfiltered self-expression.
The cultural significance of this performance also lies in the choice of the song. Grime music has long been more than just a genre; it is a lens through which the sociopolitical fabric of Britain, particularly its inner cities, can be analysed. Dan Hancox’s 2018 book Inner City Pressure offers a profound exploration of grime’s emergence as a response to the neoliberal transformation of London under Tony Blair’s New Labour. In the shadow of gentrification, surveillance and alienation, grime became a mode of resistance and a voice for those sidelined by Britain’s reshaped urban landscape.
Hancox vividly portrays London as a city transformed by policies that prioritised profit over people. Gentrification displaced working-class communities and fostered a climate of fear and division. Middle-class newcomers were taught to view their neighbours as threats, perpetuating a cycle of alienation. Grime arose from this fraught environment, providing young, marginalised voices with a means to fight back. As Hancox notes, these artists “were shunned for refusing to fall into line… for being themselves, and they fought against this with everything that they had.”
Grime’s emergence coincided with a societal crackdown on youth culture. Policies like “no hats, no hoods” cemented the institutionalised penalisation of young Black men, turning fashion and appearance into symbols of danger. This racialised stereotyping extended to the music industry, where grime artists faced barriers to mainstream success.
This defiance came to a head in 2018 when Stormzy—arguably grime’s most prominent ambassador—delivered an unforgettable freestyle at the Brit Awards. After winning two of the night’s biggest accolades for Best British Male and Best British Album, Stormzy turned his moment in the spotlight into a powerful act of protest. Addressing the government’s response to the Grenfell Tower tragedy, he rapped, “Yo, Theresa May, where’s the money for Grenfell? What, you thought we just forgot about Grenfell?”
The Grenfell fire, which claimed 72 lives in June 2017, was a devastating event that exposed systemic neglect and inequality. Many of the victims were working-class immigrants who had raised safety concerns about the building’s flammable cladding long before the disaster occurred. Their warnings went unheeded, with inquiries later revealing decades of regulatory failure. Stormzy’s Brit Awards freestyle was not only a demand for justice but a call to hold those in power accountable for prioritizing profits over human lives.
The government’s response to Grenfell had been widely criticised as inadequate and slow. Survivors spent months in temporary accommodation and promises of financial support often felt hollow. In his freestyle, Stormzy voiced the frustration of a nation, directly addressing Theresa May: “You criminals, and you got the cheek to call us savages. You should do some jail time, you should pay some damages, we should burn your house down and see if you can manage this.” His words struck a chord, resonating with millions who felt the tragedy had been met with indifference from those in power.
The Grenfell Inquiry’s final report, published in 2024, further underscored the systemic failures that led to the tragedy. It revealed that warnings about flammable cladding had been ignored for decades, with policymakers prioritising deregulation over safety.
The report’s findings painted a damning picture of negligence, detailing how the government and private sector had consistently failed to act on repeated warnings. Experts had sounded the alarm about the dangers of flammable cladding as far back as 1992, following a fire at Knowsley Heights in Merseyside. Despite this, the cladding—later identified as the “principal reason” for Grenfell’s rapid fire spread—continued to be used widely, even after further fires in 1999 and 2009 exposed its risks.
One of the most shocking revelations from the inquiry was the deliberate concealment of test results by cladding manufacturers. Companies like Arconic and Celotex were found to have knowingly withheld information about their products’ combustibility, allowing them to be marketed as safe. These deceptive practices misled contractors and regulators, directly contributing to the unsafe refurbishment of Grenfell Tower. The inquiry described this as “systematic dishonesty,” an unnerving reminder of how profit motives superseded safety in the construction industry.
The role of government was equally troubling. The inquiry highlighted how a “red tape” agenda, championed by the 2010 coalition government, had gutted safety regulations. The drive to cut costs and reduce “burdens” on businesses led to the sidelining of critical safety measures. By the time of Grenfell’s refurbishment, oversight had been so weakened that housing authorities and contractors operated in what the inquiry called a “merry-go-round of buck-passing.” No single entity took responsibility for ensuring the building’s safety, creating a perfect storm of negligence.
In many ways, Stormzy’s question—“Where’s the money for Grenfell?”—remains unanswered. Despite promises of reform, systemic inequality and neglect persist in Britain’s housing sector. Yet, grime continues to play a critical role in holding power to account. The genre’s unfiltered authenticity and willingness to confront uncomfortable truths make it a significant voice in British music culture. Stormzy himself has embraced this role, using his platform to advocate for change both within and beyond the music industry. From funding scholarships for Black students at Cambridge University to addressing knife crime in his music, he has consistently demonstrated grime’s potential to drive social impact. As he said after his Brit Awards performance, “This is bigger than me.”.
Racism Embedded in Britain Under Boris Johnson
Stormzy’s political activism didn’t end at the Brits. His hit single Vossi Bop, released in 2019, like the grime industry itself, offered hard-hitting social commentary Britain’s struggle for equality. The song’s most memorable line—“F**k the government, and f**k Boris”— became a rallying cry for a generation disillusioned by systemic racism and the divisive policies of Boris Johnson’s government.
The choice to explicitly call out Boris Johnson in a chart-topping single highlighted Stormzy’s willingness to confront the racism he believed was embedded in British politics. Johnson’s track record comments like referring to Muslim women to letterboxes, had long been criticised for normalising racist rhetoric. For Stormzy, this wasn’t just political posturing; it reflected lived experience. In interviews, he described Britain as “100% racist” and argued that Johnson’s leadership had emboldened individuals with racist views, making it more acceptable to express them publicly.
Under Johnson’s government, policies and scandals further highlighted the systemic nature of racism in the UK. The Windrush scandal, which saw Black British citizens wrongfully detained, deported, or denied healthcare, exposed the devastating impact of the “hostile environment” policy. Meanwhile, the response to events like the Grenfell Tower fire and the ongoing struggles of its survivors revealed stark racial and class inequalities. The majority of Grenfell’s residents were from immigrant backgrounds, and their warnings about unsafe living conditions had been ignored long before the tragedy struck.
Stormzy’s Vossi Bop captured the anger and frustration of those who felt betrayed by a government that not only failed to address these inequalities but perpetuated them. The song’s success—debuting at number one on the UK Singles Chart—was a testament to its resonance. It spoke to a generation unwilling to accept the status quo, using music to amplify calls for accountability and justice.
Stormzy’s critique extended beyond politics to challenge the media’s role in perpetuating racism. Publications like the Daily Mail and The Sun frequently targeted grime artists and Black public figures, often framing them in negative and stereotypical ways. Stormzy’s rise to prominence—and his refusal to conform to the expectations of a predominantly white industry—represented a broader fight for representation and respect.
Grime, at its core, is a genre of defiance and resistance, its raw energy serving as a vital platform for marginalised voices. The genre has not only confronted racial and political injustices but has sparked crucial conversations about power, representation, and accountability. As grime continues to evolve, it remains an unapologetic force for change, using music to amplify the voices of those often sidelined, demanding a better, more inclusive future. The legacy of grime is one of unfiltered truth and undeniable resilience.
Image: Stormzy on Day 2 of Governors Ball by DeShaun Craddock, 2017 // CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
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