It was a straightforward keynote for an anti-racism march and rally: "No Excuses." The message from the platform was touchingly simple. You could refuse to laugh, challenge a friend, a relative or someone in work who made a racist joke. You could go to a neighbour of different ethnic origin, knock on the door, and let them know you were an ally and where you lived if they needed help. Chinese, Latin-American and Muslim speakers said many were too afraid to be present., writes Fionnuala O Connor
The march and rally last weekend brought seasoned campaigners into the centre of Belfast as well as novices, a decent-sized crowd in a city where for good reason many are allergic to marching. The mix had many elements of protests down the years, plus new touches: homemade placards flanking aged trade union banners, "Christians against Racism" beside self-described queer activists.
Saturday-afternoon shoppers looked on benignly. When the speeches started late and were in parts inaudible, the crowd was good-humoured. Few drifted away. The organisers of the event were the umbrella Anti-Racism Network, and the Chinese Welfare Association. Others were happy to play supporting roles off the platform. It is, as Belfast well knows, almost impossible to appeal across a segregated, riven society, no matter how universal the cause might seem.
Building a sense of civic society is fraught for some with loathing of those they consider villains, or apologists for villains, who have reaped rewards rather than punishment. So Sinn Féin leading figures stood around as inconspicuously as Alliance and SDLP, Sinn Féin placards for once no splashier than Alliance's, the party's name at the bottom in modest small letters.
At the time of the rally, the most recent racist attacks had been in Protestant districts. It emerged that the records of one estate agent bear warnings to staff not to show accommodation in loyalist south Belfast to particular would-be tenants: "No DHSS, no Chinese; not suitable for people from ethnic backgrounds; not suitable for Chinese or Black community." Others allegedly have similar rules.
Last Tuesday Filipino nurses from the Royal Victoria Hospital fled the house off the Catholic Falls where they have lived for almost a year, after intruders smashed furniture and broke windows. On Tuesday night people on the street held a protest rally and asked the nurses to stay. It remains to be seen if the nurses are reassured, but at least the local response was unambiguous.
In the loyalist Village, Sandy Row and Donegall Pass public representatives - with the exception of the Ulster Unionist Esmond Birnie, and it may do him little good in his party - have been much less forthright. A minister said "we are social, gregarious creatures who like to be among our own kind. It is perplexing if you feel that perhaps you are going to be a minority in your own street." Unionist politicians said people feared losing their identity and culture.
The most recent focus has been opposition to a long-planned Chinese community centre. Expressing frustration at years of negotiation, Chinese Welfare Association leader Anna Lo said that there was now a third generation of Belfast Chinese "born and brought up here. When are we going to be accepted? We have stuck with the wider community throughout the Troubles and now when peace comes we are being kicked around. We are told this is their place and we are not allowed in."
A Belfast council committee has found a site for the centre in a nationalist part of the Ormeau Road, subject to approval by the full council and planning permission. In the Catholic Markets, a sheltered housing complex for elderly Chinese people is to open soon, and has been warmly welcomed.
There is a wealth of anti-racist voices, and clear speech from groups representing ethnic minorities. The one voiceless element, it could be argued, is the decent loyalist people in paramilitary-dominated districts of Belfast and elsewhere.
Some have tried to let campaigners know that they would like to speak out against racist attacks, but are too afraid.
Phone calls from distressed, often elderly residents describe their dread of doing what last weekend's rally urged - crossing the street to tell a Chinese, African or other neighbour that they were welcome. "It's like living in Nazi Germany," said one caller. "You're watched all the time."
A strand of unionism lauds the superiority of secular multi-cultural Britishness to what they characterise as inward-looking Irish nationalism.
The sentiment is difficult to reconcile with backstreet loyalist life, where both racism and fear fester.
In Belfast the race issue shines a light on a double victimhood - those who suffer directly from racism, and those decent people who, through fear, low self-esteem and lack of leadership, are silenced.