ABSTRACT
Part way through writing a book on The Work of Whiteness (2021), I had a dream:
I was helping a friend move into her new home, a cottage located deep within the rolling hills of rural England. It was a lovely day. Taking a break from unpacking boxes I stood at the kitchen window and looked out across the lush green meadows sloping away beneath me to ancient woodland below. I noticed a number of animals dotted across the fields and it slowly dawned on me that these were not the usual cows and sheep I would have expected in such terrain, but large, white polar bears. It was a sorry sight as all were emaciated, clearly starving and in distress. As I looked, a mother bear and her cub made their slow and painful way towards the cottage garden until they were close beneath me. The anguish in the mother’s eyes was palpable.
