“Oh,” my colleague remarked as I waited outside a meeting room at the Metropolitan Police headquarters in London. “Are you here to bring tea and coffee?” It was neither the first nor the last time I would be mistaken for the lady from the canteen, or else a secretary present to take minutes. Since I am black and a woman, I surely couldn’t possibly be a chief superintendent – or so they seemed to think.

After serving 30 years in the force I am disappointed and saddened – but not in the least surprised – by the findings of this week’s report by the police watchdog, which revealed violent misogyny, racism and bullying within the Met’s ranks. Nor am I shocked by the outrageous messages officers were found to have exchanged on social media. “I would happily rape you,” wrote one. Another said he would “smack” his “bird”, while further messages related to the deaths of black babies, the Holocaust and using a knife to get a woman into bed. 

It was just “laddish banter” many of the officers implicated claimed. 

The kind, I’m afraid, that has existed for decades in the force, and which I observed first hand on countless occasions. “You’re either a bike or a dyke,” my male colleagues would say about women. If you had sex with them, that was fine; if you didn’t you must be a lesbian. 

To survive amid this toxic culture, female staff like me had one of two options: to either go out drinking with the lads, be a “ladette” and discuss our sexual exploits; or to avoid all this and know you would never truly be viewed as part of the team. You’d never be fully accepted.

I couldn’t be “one of the lads”, because of my colour and race. But I would still have to listen as male colleagues discussed their conquests, or commented on women walking past and what they wanted to do to them.

I joined the Met in 1989. As you might expect, the culture wasn’t any better back then. I had my first taste of this when, out on patrol with a colleague, somebody called me a “Paki”. My colleague stood up for me and told the offender: “Hey, you can’t say that.” My heart briefly filled with gratitude. Then came the sucker punch. “Only we’re allowed to call her a Paki,” he added. 

At night they would watch boxing matches on the TV in the canteen. “That’s the only time I like to see black men”, said one, (except he used a vile racist term instead of “black men”). “When they’re beating the c*** out of each other.” The views of these Met Police officers were openly expressed.

Then the Macpherson Report was published in 1999. Following the racist murder of the teenager Stephen Lawrence, it uncovered major failings in the police investigation. In the years that followed, the culture in the Met really did improve. But then, about 10 years ago, it started sliding backwards once again. With the advent of social media, officers had a new outlet to share their basest opinions and their “banter.” Certain individuals brought their biases to work with them, and it was suddenly easier to spread them and influence others. They created pockets of poison across the Met Police. Clearly after Macpherson, these attitudes hadn’t disappeared; they had only been temporarily suppressed. The number of women and black and ethnic minority officers had increased over the years, but instead of being celebrated, diversity had become a dirty word.