Sexuality, privacy, and professional safety
Written by Emma Swift
Emma Swift is a Vice Principal and former trust-wide subject lead for a multi academy trust, specialising in science and initial teacher training. She is the subject lead for Physics for the National Institute of Teaching and Education.
On being visible, being private, and deciding what to carry at work
For some teachers, sexuality is something that barely enters their working life.
For others, it is something they think about constantly not because they want to, but because it shapes how visible, safe, or exposed they feel at work.
This difference matters.
Heteronormativity and the illusion of “not sharing”
Many heterosexual teachers will say they don’t talk about their sexuality at work and genuinely believe it.
But mentioning a spouse, a partner, a weekend plan, or a family photo on a desk is already a form of disclosure. It’s simply one that aligns with what students and colleagues expect, so it passes unnoticed.
For LGBTQ+ teachers, the same casual references can feel loaded. A simple pronoun choice can suddenly feel like a decision with consequences.
This isn’t about oversensitivity. It’s about risk awareness.
Being “out” is not a single decision
There is a persistent narrative that being out is an all-or-nothing state: either you are open, or you are hiding.
The reality is far more nuanced.
You may be:
- Out to colleagues but not students
- Out in one school but not another
- Open in some contexts and private in others
- Comfortable one year and cautious the next
None of these positions are dishonest.
They are strategic.
Teaching is not a neutral workplace. It is shaped by:
- Community attitudes
- School culture
- Leadership support
- Student maturity
- Media narratives
Your safety and wellbeing sit within all of that.
You do not owe visibility to anyone
There can be subtle and sometimes explicit – pressure on LGBTQ+ teachers to be visible “for the students”.
Representation matters.
But representation should never come at the cost of personal safety.
No individual teacher is responsible for fixing systemic inequality.
You are allowed to prioritise:
- Emotional safety
- Job security
- Mental health
- Professional focus
Choosing privacy is not a failure of courage.
It is an assessment of context.
The classroom is not a neutral space
Students talk. Families talk. Communities talk. What is said in a classroom rarely stays there. This is not paranoia – it is experience. Before sharing anything personal, it’s worth asking:
- How might this be repeated?
- How might it be reframed?
- How might it be misunderstood?
Once information enters the student sphere, control over it is lost. That doesn’t mean you should never share; no it means you should share deliberately.
Managing questions about relationships
Students may ask:
“Do you have a husband/wife?”
“Are you married?”
“Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?”
You are not required to correct assumptions. You are not required to disclose.
Neutral responses can include:
“I keep my personal life private.”
“That’s not something I discuss with students.”
“I’m here as your teacher.”
Some teachers choose gender-neutral language.
Some choose redirection.
Some choose openness.
The key is that you decide, not the moment.
Professional safety is not the same as secrecy
There is an important distinction between secrecy and privacy.
- Secrecy is driven by fear.
- Privacy is driven by choice.
You can be open with trusted colleagues and private with students. You can advocate for inclusion without narrating your life. You can support LGBTQ+ students without positioning yourself as evidence.
Your professionalism is not diminished by boundaries.
Who gets asked to do the work
In many schools, inclusion work doesn’t get distributed evenly. It often lands on the people most affected by it. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been asked to deliver the “LGBT assembly” or lead something for LGBT History Month. As a senior leader, I’m always willing to do an assembly that’s part of the role. But there’s an extra layer here that often goes unacknowledged.
When you are the one standing in front of a room talking about LGBTQ+ lives, you are also the one absorbing the reaction. The looks. The comments. The atmosphere. And when students express strong views which are sometimes openly homophobic, it is often the person most directly affected who is expected to manage that moment.
That carries a cost.
I still remember, around sixteen years ago, sitting in an assembly where a heterosexual male teacher spoke about Alan Turing his work, and what was done to him. It stirred something in me I wasn’t used to feeling in school. At the time, hearing LGBTQ+ lives acknowledged at all felt rare.
That moment stayed with me. And part of why it mattered was that it didn’t come from someone who had to carry the personal weight of it. There’s a difference between choosing to share and being positioned as the one who should. Even smaller moments of coming out can carry that same weight. Not just the big, defining conversations – sometimes it’s the quieter ones that stay with you.
I remember telling one of my A Level classes while working in North London. I wasn’t sure how they would respond, particularly given the strength of religious belief in the room. I had prepared myself for discomfort. Instead, they were warm, protective, and thoughtful. It meant a great deal.
Sometime after I left, one of those students wrote to me. She said she wanted to go into teaching and wrote: “I thought I wanted to be the teacher I needed. Then I realised I wanted to be the person I had.”
That stayed with me.
It’s also important to say that these experiences aren’t the same for everyone. As a lesbian, I’m aware that I may be navigating less immediate risk than some of my gay male colleagues. Context matters too – subjects, age groups, school culture. A PE teacher, for example, may face a very different set of challenges to a science teacher.
All of this shapes who feels able to speak, and when. Which is why inclusion work shouldn’t quietly default to the same people, again and again.
When schools talk about inclusion
If a school claims to value inclusion, that should show up in:
- Clear policies
- Leadership behaviour
- Responses to incidents
- How staff are supported, not showcased
Be wary of environments where inclusion is performative, but protection is absent.
A genuinely inclusive school does not pressure staff into visibility. It ensures that if staff are visible, they are safe.
A final thought
Sexuality at work is not about honesty versus hiding. It’s about context, consent, and control. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to reassess. You are allowed to protect yourself. Professional safety is not selfish.
It is what allows you to keep doing the work well and to keep yourself intact while you do it.
AI Will Shape Education - But Who Gets to Shape AI?
Written by Belonging Effect
Belonging Effect is committed to shaping intention into impact and supporting people with their Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, & Belonging strategy and training needs.
Artificial intelligence is already changing education. From lesson planning and assessment tools to tutoring platforms and student support systems, AI is becoming embedded in how schools operate and how young people learn. The conversation is no longer about whether AI will influence education. It already does.
The real question is this: Who gets to shape the future of AI in education?
Because AI is not neutral. Every AI system reflects the decisions, assumptions, priorities, and perspectives of the people who build it. The data selected. The questions asked. The problems chosen to solve. The voices included – and excluded – from the room.
If we are not intentional, AI risks reinforcing the very inequities education is trying to disrupt. And that matters deeply for schools.
We have already seen examples of AI systems producing biased outcomes:
- Recruitment algorithms favouring certain demographics
- Writing detection tools disproportionately flagging multilingual learners
- Facial recognition systems performing less accurately on darker skin tones
- Predictive technologies reinforcing historical inequalities rather than challenging them
Bias in AI is often not malicious. But it can become invisible, automated, and scaled at a speed education systems have never seen before. That is why educators must be part of shaping AI strategy – not simply responding to it after decisions have already been made.
Teachers, school leaders, inclusion specialists, youth workers, parents, and community voices bring something essential to this conversation: human understanding. Educators understand context: they understand belonging; they understand lived experience; they understand the difference between efficiency and equity.
If AI strategy is shaped only by technologists and commercial interests, we risk creating systems that optimise for speed and standardisation over humanity and inclusion.
But there is another possibility…
AI could become a powerful tool for accessibility, creativity, personalisation, and opportunity – if a broader and more diverse range of people are involved in shaping what responsible AI looks like in practice.
That means we need more diverse voices and thinkers involved: more perspectives; more challenge; more collaboration. We need people from different backgrounds, communities, cultures, identities, and professional experiences helping to shape the future of AI in education. Not because diversity is a “nice to have,” but because it is a safeguard against harm.
At The Belonging Effect, we believe belonging and equity must sit at the centre of conversations about innovation and technology. That is why we are inviting our network to get involved.
Over the coming months, we will be hosting a series of free webinars exploring AI, education, equity, and belonging. These sessions are designed to create accessible spaces for educators and leaders to learn, question, challenge, and contribute to the conversation – regardless of their starting point with AI.
We are also collaborating on a fully funded training programme with our partners at CVP Group for educators and professionals who want to deepen their understanding of AI, inclusive practice, and ethical leadership in this rapidly evolving space.
We are keen to amplify more diverse voices in this conversation as too often, discussions about AI are dominated by a narrow range of perspectives so we want to help change that. Therefore, we are actively looking to publish blogs, reflections, case studies, and opinion pieces from educators, practitioners, community leaders, and changemakers from diverse backgrounds who are thinking critically about AI, inclusion, belonging, and the future of education.
You do not need to be an AI expert. You do not need to work in technology. If you care about equity, representation, belonging, and the future young people are inheriting, your voice matters, because the future of AI in education should not be built for communities without them – it must be built with them.
This moment presents both a challenge and an opportunity as the decisions being made now will shape classrooms, opportunities, and experiences for years to come. We cannot afford for those decisions to be shaped by only a small group of voices. Disrupting bias in AI starts with diversifying who is involved in shaping strategy and that work belongs to all of us.
The future of AI is being written right now. The question is whether education – and the communities most impacted by these technologies – will help write the story.
To join one of our free webinars, apply for the fully funded training programme, or contribute a blog to our growing community of voices, connect with The Belonging Effect today. Our monthly newsletter will be out on Wednesday.
Together, let’s ensure the future of AI in education is inclusive, ethical, and rooted in belonging.
Race and Leadership Roles in Schools – My Story
Written by Patrick Cozier
Patrick Cozier is a headteacher, a coach and the author of Calm Leadership.
Desire to be a Headteacher
I came into teaching because of a desire to make a difference to the lives of children. I have always believed that education has the ability to transform lives and create opportunities for young people. My own personal example is one that I always draw strength from. My parents came over from Barbados in the 1960s as part of the Windrush generation – my mother an auxiliary nurse and my father a postal worker. They came here with the intention of creating a better life for their children than they had experienced. Education was at the heart of this dream. And so, it began…
I started teaching in September 1994, in South London. I knew by 1996 that I wanted to be a Headteacher. Working in a school with a high number of Black and Asian children, I could see the impact that myself and some other Black staff in the school had on connecting with those students and providing role models to fuel their aspiration. I recognised pretty early that if we could have that effect as teachers, the potential for Black and Asian leaders to create a significant positive impact was huge. I wanted to be THAT person. From that moment on, everything that I did in my teaching career was done with the intention to propel me towards that aim.
For me it was interesting, because I did not at the time view being Black as a disadvantage. I felt very much as though it was one of my big selling points. I always felt that my ‘Blackness’ (i.e., my cultural heritage, skill set, adaptability, and shared experiences with children from African and Caribbean heritage) would place me in a strong position to lead a school with a mix of cultures. In the early days of my career, I did not see barriers – just dreams, ambitions and goals.
What I did not consider was that my own sense of value and self-belief was only half the story. The challenge was finding ways to ensure that others (in particular governors doing the selecting) could see in me what I saw in me. This was a much bigger challenge than I had anticipated, and I think explains to a large extent why there are comparatively few senior leaders and Headteachers from Black and Asian backgrounds represented in the profession.
Gov.UK – School Teacher Workforce February 2021 shows
- in 2019, 85.7% of all teachers in state-funded schools in England were White British (where ethnicity was known)
- 78.5% of the working age population was White British at the time of the 2011 Census
- 92.7% of headteachers were White British
| Ethnicity | % of the Working Population | % of
Classroom Teachers |
% of Deputies and Assistant Heads | % of Headteachers |
| White British | 85.7 | 84.9 | 89.7 | 92.7 |
| White Irish | 1.5 | 1.5 | 1.7 | 1.8 |
Source: School Workforce in England: November 2019 https://explore-education-statistics.service.gov.uk/find-statistics/school-workforce-in-england
The data in the table above gives a clear indication of the national picture. The percentage of White British teachers in 2019 (84.9) was almost identical to the percentage of the working population that was White British (85.7). The percentage of Headteachers who were White British at this time was 92.7, which shows an over-representation.
Contrast this with the same data for Black African, Black Caribbean and Black Other below.
| Ethnicity | % of the Working Population | % of
Classroom Teachers |
% of Deputies and Assistant Heads | % of Headteachers |
| Black African | 1.9 | 1.0 | 0.4 | 0.2 |
| Black Caribbean | 1.2 | 1.1 | 1.0 | 0.7 |
| Black Other | 0.5 | 0.4 | 0.2 | 0.1 |
Source: School Workforce in England: November 2019 https://explore-education-statistics.service.gov.uk/find-statistics/school-workforce-in-england
The proportion of Headteachers is a significant under-representation of Black heads and as compared to both the general working population and the proportion of classroom teachers.
What this points to is the comparatively poor progression that has been made in the profession for our Black African and Black Caribbean colleagues. So, what is the story here?
There are many theories for why the number of Black Headteachers is so low.
- Poor/biased recruitment processes
- Insufficient opportunities for development of our Black teachers in school
- Black teachers do not want to apply because
- they do not believe they will be given an opportunity or
- they do not see headship itself as an attractive prospect or
- They feel the situation of headship for a person of colour is precarious as they will be judged harshly if things go wrong
In my conversations with colleagues over the years I have encountered all of the above scenarios. It seems to be commonplace and the data certainly supports this view – that is, unless you believe in the meritocratic theory and your view is that there are just insufficient Black candidates who are up to the job. I personally can’t and won’t accept this as a position.
My own journey was nearly derailed by one line manager who tried to sabotage my first ever application for a senior leadership position. This was back in 2001. I was a head of year, and I was keen on promotion. I was confident and believed that I was ready. My line manager did not and told me so – I recall her specific words were ‘I would be worried if you were appointed to a senior leadership role’. Now to be fair, I don’t know whether my Blackness had anything to do with her view, but I do not that she failed to see the potential in me at the time.
However, I was fortunate in that I was confident, and my Headteacher at the time believed in my capacity to do a great job as a senior leader. His support turned out to be critical as following a very successful interview process I was informed by the school that I had applied to that the two references that they had received were in contrast – one very supportive and the other less so. I found that disappointing, but sadly predictable.
The Headteacher of the school that I had applied to (who in the end decided to appoint me) explained to me that what they saw and felt throughout my gruelling two-day interview process was more aligned to the reference from my Headteacher, than that of my immediate line manager – so they took a chance and believed in me. I haven’t looked back since.
But now I think… was I just one of the lucky ones?
Much can be done to change this situation. For example,
- The government should invest in the diversity of our sector and fund leadership development programmes for people of colour.
- Governing bodies need to think about their own makeup and be genuinely committed to proactively recruiting governors who represent the communities served by the school.
- Governing bodies also need to consider how a lack of diversity influences the decisions they make when recruiting senior leaders – in particular they need to seek out training in unconscious bias and use their learning from that to shape thought and process.
- More of our current crop of leaders of colour need to adhere to the ‘each one, teach one’ mantra – we have to give back and help our more junior colleagues navigate their way through the system the way that we have through coaching, mentoring and offering opportunities for work experience and shadowing.
Afraid of own shadow
I started my first headship at the age of 34 in September 2006, just 18 months after I have first become a deputy. It was sooner than I had anticipated, and it was scary. Despite my clear ambition to be a headteacher, I was not expecting it quite so soon. And the truth was, I was not quite ready for what I was taking on. I think I was scared of my own shadow! I was confident that I could learn quickly (and boy, did I have to!), but the journey was a very challenging one and extended me in ways that I did not know was possible.
I was an internal candidate. I applied for the job because I wanted to take advantage of the experience of applying for headships and going through the process. I applied because I was convinced by those around me that I would be a good candidate for the job. I applied because I wanted to compare myself to the competition. Never (and I mean like, ever) did I imagine I would get the job, until the second day of interviews when I was down to the final three candidates from over 30 applicants. Then it hit me… This was REAL! After I was successful on day 2 and I was offered the job, I responded by asking the then Chair of Governors, ‘Are you sure?’. In hindsight, that was a silly (albeit honest) thing to say based on how I felt at the time.
I was excited, but also petrified. To talk about ‘imposter syndrome’ would not do how I felt at the time any justice. I remember saying to my coach (who was a very experienced ex-headteacher) that I just couldn’t get used to the feeling of constantly being on the edge of my comfort zone. It was just not something that I was prepared for.
The first few years were tough and represented a very steep learning curve. My first challenge was not so much about leading the school as leading my colleagues. I was the last one in – the young pretender. Suddenly, I was thrust into having to manage a team of people who were more experienced than I was and who had been at my school for longer than me. My confidence to make decisions when others who I had great respect for, and a sense of awe in some cases, disagreed.
There was also the added pressure of being a young Black Headteacher, at the time one of only 11 secondary school male Black Headteachers of African-Caribbean heritage in the UK. I felt proud, but also daunted. I enjoyed the wearing the cloak of representation. A particular source of joy and strength for me was hearing from Black parents how pleased they were to see me in my role and how much they were rooting for me. That always touched me (and still does) and I used it as fuel to overcome some of the fears of the role. I have always embraced this responsibility as a privilege rather than a burden. However, it is not easy.
The need to be extra-vigilant about what one says is tough and draining. The feeling of being a lone voice at the many tables at which one sits in Headship and as a system leader can be frustrating and dispiriting. These all make the job much more demanding as a person of colour.
However the biggest difficulty that I had as a new Headteacher (and admittedly still now at times) was the propensity that I had for editing myself. It is hard to explain, but as a Black person in a position of leadership there are certain stereotypes about Black people that you are aware of and wish to avoid. I found myself minimising certain aspects of my culture and natural state of being. Below are some examples, with differing degrees of seriousness.
- Turning down my music in the car as I drive through the gates in the morning – not wanting other staff to hear the beautiful thumping reggae beats that set up my positive and confident mood for the day.
- Being cool and calm at ALL times. I was very aware of the stereotype of the ‘angry Black man’, and I never wanted to fall foul of this.
- Restricting the desire to challenge racism whenever and wherever I witnessed it. As a Black person you see it all the time in various different explicit and implicit guises and you want to call it out – but the editing process leads you to pick your battles carefully as you don’t want to be seen as that Black person where ‘everything is about race’.
- I edited my accent. Around friends and family it is entirely natural to speak in our heavy patois dialect. There were times in the early days where I wanted to do so with Black colleagues or students to accentuate that connection and shared experience through a shared language, but the pressure of being the Black Headteacher prevented me from doing so.
When I reflect now on how important these issues are, the conclusion that I draw is that they are crucial. It isn’t so much about the trivial nature of some of the edits described above. There is something more fundamental taking place in my view that gnaws away at the very purpose of diversity. Having diversity in leadership can only make a difference if leaders bring their diversity in with them as they travel through the school gates. To edit oneself is to lose the very difference that your diversity can make. It essentially turns everyone into a middle-class white man.
Based on my reflections of my own journey and experiences, I now make a point of telling our young aspiring Black leaders to be themselves. I tell them that their authenticity is actually what matters the most. They each can bring something different to the role if they are prepared to be brave and resist the temptation to edit.
In the early stages of my headship, I had great support from a range of coaches that I saw in my first few years in post – and each helped me significantly in very different ways. As well as the need to feel like I was worthy of the job, I had that added need to stop falling to the temptation of editing myself. I learned a lot from my coaches. The helped me make sense of my experiences and supported the development of the sense of perspective that I have honed over time. However, my early struggles were tough – and when I think of it now, I reflect on how I might have changed the nature of that support if I could go back as an experienced leader now and help my younger, less experienced self. I have been developing something I refer to as ‘Calm Leadership’ as a means of addressing this (What is calm leadership and why is it important? (sec-ed.co.uk)).
Getting Diversity in a Team Which Is Not Diverse
Although diversity in leadership is the ultimate aim to ensure that leadership is inclusive in its purpose and function, the reality is that many teams are not there in terms of the representation among the leadership. Getting the team to that point is a long-term strategy. In the meantime, it is important to find ways to work with what you have to increase awareness, understanding and to promote diversity of thought and approach.
I have a leadership team that is not diverse. We represent a school community that looks different from the team of senior leaders who are there to represent them. The same is true of my wider staff body. We have done a number of things over the last couple of years to try to move things forward. Some examples are shared below:
- We got our leadership team to read the book White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo and Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging by Afua Hirsch and to reflect on their own views, perspectives and practice
- Presentation from the me to staff on my own journey to being a Headteacher – sharing my experiences as a Black boy in North London to a Black man
- We showed staff videos recordings of our Black and Asian students talking about their experiences at our school
- We weaved our equality targets into our SDP – so every other departmental plan must reference this
- All student data is broken down and analysed by a range of sub-criteria including ethnic background
- We have a Racial Equity governor
- We have created a Student Cultural Diversity Forum (early stages)
- Zero tolerance of any racist behaviours – even against ‘your own’
- Staff have received training in unconscious bias
- We have reviewed our approach to promoting positive behaviours utilising the skills and experience of an external behaviour specialist
- Every member of staff was given the opportunity to have a book on anti-racism brought for them to read for the summer – 65 took up the offer! We have met twice since September to review, learn and apply
Race and Leadership Roles in Schools
Race matters. Visibility matters. Diversity matters. In leadership roles, they matter even more… so long as they actually make a difference.
Authenticity is the key. We have to train people to be their authentic selves as diverse leaders in order for the diversity of their experiences, backgrounds, thinking approaches and views to bring something different to the table.
In order to benefit from this, we need to make sure that we are doing more to encourage and bring the talent pool of ethnic global majority leaders through the system. We need to get more Black and Asian teachers into the profession and then help them progress their journeys through to leadership. To do this we must carefully consider the current barriers and blockers as to why this is not already the case and find ways to overcome them. This will take leadership at all levels, from the UK Government, down to Local Authorities and Multi-Academy Trusts and ultimately with the school governors and leaders.
If Black and Asian Leaders succeed, then everybody does!
Does your belonging culture include every Generation?
Written by Alex Atherton
Alex Atherton is an award-winning speaker, trainer and consultant who focuses on Gen Z recruitment & retention and leading multigenerational workplaces. He is the author of The Snowflake Myth: Explaining Gen Z in the Workplace and Beyond. He is also a former secondary school headteacher.
Age ranges are growing across UK workplaces.
This is largely because the proportion of workers aged 65 and over has more than doubled in the last two decades.
A four generation workplace with an age range of fifty, if not sixty, years has become increasingly common. At the younger end Generation Z now account for over a quarter of the workforce, with that figure set to exceed a third globally by 2030.
At no point in modern history have so many different generational experiences been present in the same building, on the same Teams call, or trying to agree on what a productive working culture looks like.
Concept of generations
The concept of generations is useful in terms of analysing outlooks and attitudes over time. Fifteen to twenty years is long enough for there to have been enough economic, social, political and technological change for that exercise to be worthwhile.
But we are all the same species, and there is no guillotine between them. Whilst the concept is useful it is also limited, and generational stereotypes serve no one. Differences within generations are far bigger than those between, and I strongly recommend you treat everyone as individuals first with no generational label.
Analysing the impact of change over time can offer clues when understanding your workforce, and therefore what needs to be done to ensure everyone feels they belong.
I want to differentiate between ‘age’ and ‘generations’. The former is, of course, a protected characteristic. The latter is cohort-based. Opinions and outlooks may change for individuals over time, but there is something about those created in the formative years which stick with people in different ways and to various extents.
It would be an interesting tribunal case that sought to separate the two fully. My argument is organisations who consider the full range of their age diversity to be a considerable asset are in a better position to thrive, and considering generational perspective is part of that exercise.
This is the set of names and dates that I use. You may find others elsewhere, which is fine as it reinforces the idea that these are not hard and fast:
- Silent Generation (1925-1945: 81-100 years old)
- Baby Boomers (1946-1964: 62-80 years old)
- Generation X (1965-1980: 46-61 years old)
- Millennials (1981-1996: 30-45 years old)
- Generation Z (1997-2012: 14-29 years old)
- Generation Alpha (2013-2028: max 13 years old)
The snowflake problem
I came into this topic area as a reaction to the youngest generation currently in the workplace, Gen Z, being labelled as ‘snowflakes’.
In my book The Snowflake Myth, I argue that the stereotypes routinely applied to Gen Z (lazy, unreliable, apathetic etc) tell us more about a failure to understand them than about who they actually are.
Gen Z’s academic record is off the scale compared to all who came before them. They are more likely than any previous generation to work nights and weekends for higher pay. They are the most diverse generation we have ever seen, and the most vocal advocates for equity, diversity, inclusion and belonging in the workplace.
Calling them snowflakes is not a neutral observation. It is an exclusion.
But you know this, otherwise you would not be on this website. So what to do?
Belonging Is not age-selective
Let me tell you something else you already know. When belonging is present, engagement rises, wellbeing is protected and performance improves. When it is absent, the damage is real.
Does your belonging culture extend to the oldest and youngest people in your organisation?
Gen Z in the workplace will tell you, should you ask them, that they are watching. They notice whether the DEIB commitments on your website show up in how decisions are made and who gets a seat at which table. They notice whether authenticity is genuinely embedded in your culture, or whether the sign behind reception is performative. They notice whether any effort has been made to understand their experience, or whether they are simply expected to adapt.
The Boomers (and Silents too) will also give you their feedback as to whether they belong or now feel marginalised, but you may need to work a little harder to capture their voice. It is too tempting to consider that your belonging culture is in the right place because a clear majority say they belong. It needs to work at both ends of your age range.
What multi-generational belonging looks like
The good news is that this is less complicated than it sounds. It requires curiosity more than strategy.
It means seeking genuine feedback from colleagues, and on an ongoing basis rather than just at onboarding.
It means recognising that a generation which grew up collaborating online, co-creating content and working simultaneously on shared documents brings real and underutilised strengths to any team.
It means deliberately noticing what is happening at the edges, and across every group. That includes noticing that the older colleagues who had their eyes wide open as the new recruits refused to stay late or take work home started wanting the same themselves. What used to be ‘Gen Z demands’ has now extended elsewhere.
It means understanding that cross-generational collaboration is not a nice idea for an away day. It is about driving better decisions and developing ownership amongst your workforce that creates the belonging culture you need.
Most importantly, it means accepting that belonging is not something organisations can get away with extending only to the groups they find easiest to champion.
To what extent does your belonging culture cover the full breadth of your age range?
Adoption Doesn’t End the Trauma
Written by Ian Timbrell
Ian has worked in education for 18 years, including as a teacher and deputy head teacher and now supports schools develop their provision for LGBTQ+ and adopted pupils. He is the author of 'It's More Than Flags and Rainbows', a guide to supporting schools become more LGBTQ+ inclusive.
When we adopted, I think I expected a sense of arrival. A feeling that we had reached the end of a long and intense process and could finally breathe. In reality, adoption was not an ending at all. It was the beginning of a very different journey, one that far fewer people truly understand.
There is a widespread belief that trauma ends at adoption. That once a child is safe and loved, the hardest part is behind you. Our experience, and the experience of many families I have spoken to, tells a very different story. Trauma does not disappear because circumstances change. It stays with children as they grow, shaping how they see themselves, their families, and the world around them.
What shocked me most was how quickly support fell away once adoption was finalised. During the assessment process, you are surrounded by professionals, advice, and scrutiny. Afterwards, it can feel as though the scaffolding is suddenly removed. Families are expected to cope, to manage complex behaviours and emotions, and to do so quietly, often while being told how “lucky” everyone is.
Adoption touches every part of family life. As children grow older, particularly during the teenage years, questions about identity and belonging resurface with force. Life stories are revisited. Feelings of loss, anger, and confusion come to the surface. These are not abstract emotions. They show up in daily life, in school, at home, and in relationships.
One of the least understood aspects of adoption is contact with birth families. For those outside the adoption world, this is often difficult to grasp. Contact is not simple or tidy. It carries hope and heartbreak in equal measure. For children, it can reopen wounds they do not yet have the words to describe. For parents, it can be painful to watch your child carry feelings you cannot fix or protect them from.
Schools and wider family networks often struggle to understand this reality. Behaviours are framed as poor choices rather than expressions of distress. Parenting is judged without recognising the context. There is an unspoken expectation that adopted children should be settled, grateful, or resilient. When they are not, families can feel blamed and deeply isolated.
As an LGBTQ+ adoptive parent, there are additional layers. Our families are often more visible, and that visibility can bring both connection and silence. Sometimes it feels as though acknowledging the challenges of adoption is seen as too complicated, or as though we are already asking enough of people simply by existing as a queer family.
Things are slowly changing, but more education, connection and understanding are still needed around the realities many adopted families experience. Adoption can be an incredible thing, but it does not exist in a Disney daydream.
I am writing this as an individual, shaped by my own experience as an adoptive parent. I am also the founder of More Than Flags and Rainbows, and these two parts of my life are inseparable. This reflection comes from moments of joy and pride, and from moments of exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty. It comes from recognising how many families are quietly navigating similar paths without enough understanding or long-term support.
That is why, through More Than Flags and Rainbows, we are working to build networks for adoptive families and LGBTQ+ parents that centre lived experience and community support. Our aim is to create spaces where families can connect, share experiences and feel less alone in the challenges they face.
If this resonates with you, you are not alone. And struggling does not mean you are failing.
Defying Gravity: The Moral and Systemic Corruption of the UK - A Wicked Retrospective
Written by Adrian McLean
Ambassador of Character, Executive Headteacher, TEDx Speaker, BE Associate Trainer & Coach, Governors for Schools Trustee, Positive Disruptor
My family and I were like most people across the country. We had been waiting for the new Wicked film to drop. We booked release day and went in ready for the spectacle. The film delivered what we expected: strong performances, sharp visuals and a story that still hits. But I walked out thinking about something else entirely. Beneath the entertainment sat a message about power, belonging and corruption that felt uncomfortably close to home. That is what pushed me to write this piece.
Wicked lands because it shows how fear, pressure and status can twist people who start with decent intentions. You watch two leaders take different paths, both shaped by the same system that rewards silence and punishes dissent. That world is fiction, but the pattern matches the UK’s struggle with Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Belonging (DEIB). When a system prizes comfort over justice, virtues start to warp into vices and inequality becomes normal.
The Emerald City and the Illusion of UK Stability
Elphaba is excluded from the start. Her difference becomes a tool for control. The Wizard turns that fear into policy by stripping the animals of their rights. Oz calls itself prosperous, but the shine hides a rotten core.
The UK does the same. The claim of stability masks persistent, recorded inequities. Black Caribbean pupils are still excluded from school at far higher rates than White British pupils, which fuels the Schools to Prison Pipeline. Minority ethnic jobseekers continue to submit far more applications for the same employer interest. Data from the Social Metrics Commission shows Black and minority ethnic people are more than twice as likely to experience relative poverty and face higher exposure to fuel and food insecurity. None of this is new. It is repeated in every major review that looks at structural inequality.
The pattern is simple. Exclusion begins with a label, then becomes a story, then becomes a policy. When a state or organisation frames a group as a threat to stability, belonging becomes conditional and rights become flexible. Oz had the silencing of the animals. We have exclusions, unequal labour market outcomes and cost of living impacts that fall hardest on the same groups every time.
Virtues Turned into Vices
Wicked shows that the Wizard’s regime survives because people with influence let their virtues bend under pressure. They do not wake up intending to harm anyone, they drift into it.
Glinda thrives because she is charming and quick to connect. Her core virtue is affability. She wants harmony, status and approval. Under pressure, this slides into moral silence. She denies Elphaba to keep her place in the system and tells herself that compromise keeps things stable.
The UK has Glindas’ in politics, business and education. These are the institutional centrists who talk about fairness without taking risks that would cost them capital or access. They avoid reforms that would unsettle sponsors, investors or senior colleagues. When DEIB becomes politically inconvenient, they retreat. Their instinct for consensus turns into complacency and the result is stalled progress.
Elphaba’s driving virtue is conviction. She sees injustice and refuses to look away. She fights for the animals when no one else will. Under pressure, this hardens into isolation. She stops listening and her stance becomes so rigid that her allies shrink back. The regime uses that isolation to paint her as the problem.
The UK has Elphabas in social movements, school leadership and community activism. They push equity forward when institutions resist. The risk is that their conviction becomes inflexible. When leaders hold the line alone, they become easy to discredit. They get written off as difficult, extreme or disruptive, even when their claims are evidence backed.
The Wizard builds his authority by shaping the story people live inside. He presents order, progress and unity. Behind the curtain is manipulation and fear. His virtue is charisma coupled with organisational skill. Under pressure, this becomes populism. He manufactures enemies to distract from his failures.
The UK has seen its own operators of conformity. The rise of symbolic politics is one example. The volume of flags, organisational figureheads and public posturing has increased while pay gaps, attainment gaps and poverty rates keep widening. It is easier to demand visible allegiance than to fix structural problems.
A core tactic in this pattern is the creation of a convenient scapegoat. In Wicked, the Wizard convinces the public that Elphaba is responsible for every disruption in Oz. The accuracy of the claim is irrelevant. The story does the work. Parts of UK discourse follow the same script when complex economic pressures are reduced to a simple claim that immigrants are the cause of national strain. This persists even when economic data shows that immigration contributes net labour, tax revenue and essential workforce capacity. The point is not evidence. The point is to give the public a target that keeps attention away from systemic failure. When critics raise equity issues, they are dismissed as divisive or ideological. This mirrors the way the Wizard and Madame Morrible brand Elphaba as wicked to steer attention away from his regime.
Defying the Wizard: finding the mean
Elphaba’s turning point comes when she stops running and confronts the system head-on. She rejects the false choice between silence and isolation. She does not become Glinda. She does not become a fanatic. She chooses the difficult mean between the two.
The UK needs the same shift. Our current system rewards leaders who avoid conflict or leaders who burn out fighting it alone. We need leaders who will act before the next inquiry or crisis forces their hand. That requires policy choices that tackle the structural inequities we keep measuring but rarely fix.
Three moves that will help to shift the system.
- Mandatory and enforced pay transparency
Ethnicity and disability pay gap reporting should match the current gender reporting model with annual publication and mandatory action plans. This exposes the blocks that keep certain groups stuck at the bottom of organisational hierarchies. When data is public, silence becomes harder and accountability becomes real. This cuts off the pattern where affability turns into complacency. - De-biasing the talent pipeline
Hiring and promotion systems need unbiased review at the early stages and consistent scoring frameworks at later stages. Several public bodies and trusts have already piloted these methods with measurable gains in fairness and diversity. The point is not ideology. It is basic organisational integrity. Merit cannot be judged if bias enters the process before talent is seen. This stops conviction from becoming isolated because people no longer have to fight as lone moral actors to access opportunity. - Anchoring belonging in policy
Belonging cannot remain an aspiration or marketing phrase. It needs to sit inside the cost of living strategy, local authority funding decisions and NHS workforce plans. Policies should undergo Equality Impact Assessments (EIA) that account for race, disability, gender and income as a minimum. The data already exists. The gap is political will. Without structural safeguards, the same groups get hit first every time the economy tightens.
The most potent lesson from Wicked is that silence and fear serve the powerful. Until the core structure of the UK (Emerald City) is challenged, the wicked labels, the resulting inequalities and the denial of Belonging will persist.
Call to Action
Belonging will not grow by itself. It grows when people stop accepting shortcuts, scapegoats and silence.
- Challenge claims that have no evidence. Look at the data, not the headline.
- Ask leaders for the numbers behind their decisions and push for policies that close gaps rather than mask them.
- In workplaces, demand transparent reporting, fair recruitment and consistent standards.
- Back colleagues who raise equity issues instead of leaving them exposed.
These steps are not dramatic, but they are the ones that stop a society falling for the Wizard’s story and start shifting it toward something fairer.
How Unconscious Bias Affects Student Learning
Written by Eleanor Hecks
Eleanor Hecks is a writer who is passionate about helping businesses create inclusive and diverse spaces. She serves as the Editor in Chief of Designerly Magazine.
Unconscious bias in the education sector occurs when teachers or other adults at a school unknowingly inflict biases on students, hindering their learning. Teachers might not even know they possess these biases, let alone that they are hurting students. It is essential to recognize how implicit bias manifests in the classroom and how to keep it from continuing.
Types of Unconscious Bias
Students of all ages are like sponges, and high school students especially carry the skills they learn in high school into the workforce. If they witness and internalize a teacher with hidden bias, that could affect how they treat their classmates and future co-workers. That is why it is crucial to spot and address unconscious bias as soon as possible.
A common way bias manifests is with issues of race. Sometimes, teachers will call on their white students more or assume that because English is not a student’s first language, that student is a poor writer or less intelligent. These are untrue assumptions based on a student’s skin colour.
Teachers might also be unconsciously biased against students with disabilities. They might assume someone with a physical disability has a mental disability as well or give the student more or less work, deeming them unfit for the regular curriculum. These biases harm the students who are directly impacted and the students witnessing it occur, leading to a continued use of these assumptions or feelings of inadequacy.
Other common implicit biases include sexual orientation, gender identity and socioeconomic standing. Treating students differently based on these attributes harms their education and sense of self-worth.
6 Tips to Support DEI Efforts to Mitigate Bias
Many students have overlapping social identities that create compounded experiences of discrimination and privilege, known as intersectionality. This makes it more important than ever to consciously and unconsciously treat all students equitably and respectfully.
Below are some actionable tips to support DEI efforts and mitigate bias.
1. Have Uncomfortable Conversations
Discussions of race or gender are sensitive topics that often make teachers and students uncomfortable. Still, these conversations are crucial to break down hidden bias. Students might feel more comfortable after having their concerns addressed in an appropriate, educational way.
2. Identify Biases
Teachers often unknowingly reinforce biases on students, so it is essential to identify and address them. If a teacher witnesses a student display bias toward a peer, the teacher should calmly intervene and help the student realize why their words or actions are harmful.
Teachers should also serve as positive examples. At the administration level, leaders should hire educators from diverse backgrounds and offer implicit bias training and tests to help support DEI in the school.
3. Foster Teacher and Student Relationships
Fostering a more profound connection allows teachers to understand their students better and identify ways they have misjudged them based on unconscious bias. Hands-on activities are a way to bond and learn, with 86% of teachers reporting increased engagement in the classroom as a result.
4. Adopt a Flexible Mindset
Too often, people believe that ignoring someone’s race, gender or other characteristic is being inclusive. This idea can be harmful, as there are distinct differences between people that should be acknowledged and embraced. Understanding what makes each student unique can help them learn best and prevent them from feeling ashamed of themselves.
5. Provide Equitable Learning for All Students
Separating students based on perceived intelligence can make them feel better or worse than their classmates. When everyone does the same assignment and works together, students have equitable learning opportunities to succeed and feel confident in their abilities.
Teachers should emphasize needs-based support. When a student needs more resources or support to succeed, teachers can provide accommodations to help them fully participate. This could include extra tools, more detailed instructions or a quiet place to work.
6. Assess Teaching Materials
Take note of the teaching material in a curriculum and see where gaps in the knowledge or outdated information exist. Students learn better when they see themselves in the material, and narrow recounts of history or books narratives that center only on one group can harm all students.
Unlearning Unconscious Bias in Classrooms
Implicit bias can harm students and hinder their learning. Educators and administrators must identify their own biases and instances of bias around them to combat these issues before they negatively impact the students.
The Hidden Wounds of Leadership: When Strength Becomes Survival
Written by Remi Atoyebi
Remi Atoyebi is an experienced Headteacher and ICF Certified Transformational and Leadership Coach. She is a contributor to The Headteachers’ Handbook and a mentor to over 50 school leaders across the UK. As a leader from a Global Majority background, she is passionate about inclusive leadership, psychological safety, and creating safe spaces for underrepresented voices.
As one of just a handful of leaders from a Global Majority background in the area I serve, I’ve had to do more than lead a school. I’ve had to build trust from the ground up, raise community aspirations, and create a sanctuary of belonging for children who had so often been left behind. Publicly, I was praised. Data climbed. Headlines followed. People saw progress.
But what they didn’t see was me.
They didn’t see the toll it took: emotionally, mentally, physically, to keep showing up, every single day, as the “strong one.” The “resilient” one. The one who could weather it all. Behind the applause, I was slowly falling apart.
As a Black woman in leadership, I became an expert at navigating systems that were never designed for me to thrive in. I wore the armour of excellence because I had no choice. I bore the weight of expectation, not just professionally, but culturally: the silent pressure to prove, to represent, to protect. I was leading a school, yes. But I was also holding up the dreams of my community, the pride of my family, and the unsaid duty to never falter.
Then one day, my body gave in. I was taken by ambulance from work to A&E. I had suffered a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA): https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/transient-ischaemic-attack-tia/ and soon after, I was diagnosed with Post-traumatic stress disorder(PTSD): https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/overview/
These events were not from one tragic moment, but from the relentless drip-feed of stress, microaggressions, harassment, racial trauma, and systemic pressure that had compounded over years.
The trigger was one parent’s sustained harassment over two and a half years: sometimes emailing up to three times a day to make unnecessary demands, engaging in attention-seeking behaviours, inciting other parents, and making incessant reports to the Local Authority Designated Officer (LADO), Office for Standards in Education, Children’s Services and Skills (OFSTED), the Teacher Regulatory Agency (TRA), and the Information Commissioner’s Office (ICO).
I had been leading while bleeding.
This is what we don’t talk about enough. The unspoken cost of being the first. The only. The one expected to be everything to everyone. For many Black women in leadership, success often comes wrapped in loneliness. We carry the school, the staff, the children, their families and then we carry what no one else sees: the barbed comments, the subtle exclusions, the extra scrutiny.
Over time, I’ve come to name this for what it is…structural neglect. Not always overt. Not always intentional. But neglect nonetheless: of our wellbeing, our emotional safety, our humanity. Mental health services are not culturally competent. DEI work barely scratches the surface. And leadership frameworks rarely account for the invisible labour of navigating bias and battling stereotypes.
The Equality Act 2010 lists both Race and Disability as protected characteristics. But where was the protection when I was unravelling from the inside out? Where were the policies that acknowledged the trauma of ‘performing strength’ in the face of constant pressure? Where was the care for leaders like me?
And let’s talk about race and mental health. Black women are less likely to be referred for therapy, more likely to be misdiagnosed, more likely to go unheard. (https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/tips-for-everyday-living/racism-and-mental-health/#HowRacismCanAffectYourMentalHealth).
In leadership, the expectation to remain poised and polished becomes a ‘prison’. We silence our needs just to be seen as competent and effective.
So, how do we disrupt this?
We start by telling the truth. We say out loud that leadership takes a toll. We give permission to ourselves and others to feel, to pause, to say “this is too much.”
We embed trauma-informed approaches not just for children, but for the adults in our schools, especially those living through racialised experiences. We make room for healing. For culturally competent therapy. For coaching that holds space rather than just drives outcomes.
We must let go of the myth that strength means silence, and in its place, we embrace a deeper truth that vulnerability is not weakness, it is wisdom. It is the path to healing, to connection and to lasting change.
I’m still healing. I’m still learning how to lead without sacrificing myself. Still untangling from a version of success that asked me to shrink, to be silent, to disappear. But no more. From here on, I will be leading differently: to protect my health, my wellbeing and ultimately, my life.
And if my story does anything, I hope it reminds someone, maybe you, that you are not alone. That leadership must never cost you your health. That you don’t have to break to belong and succeed.
“When they try to deny us, resist with Shades of Bias!”
Written by Wayne Reid
Professional Officer & Social Worker
In recent years, the social work profession has made declarations of support for anti-discriminatory, anti-oppressive and anti-racist practice. However, circular conversations, intensive dialogue, never-ending searches for ‘evidence’ and performative actions ensure that a critical gap persists: a lack of tangible reforms and person-centred support in real-world professional settings. This is the void in which Shades of Bias was conceived – to help move us beyond repetitive rhetoric and towards meaningful action.
In a profession built on values and ethics, social workers often find themselves navigating the culture war minefields of bias – sometimes as victims/survivors, sometimes as observers/witnesses and sometimes (albeit unintentionally), as perpetrators or people responsible. Shades of Bias emerges not as a blunt instrument of blame or guilt, but as a structured, compassionate and forward-thinking innovation for critical thinking and scalable change.
What is Shades of Bias?
Shades of Bias is a pioneering and universal case study framework designed to enable critical reflection on how discrimination, oppression and racism manifests in social work and beyond. It is a simple process for documenting, analysing and addressing instances of bias, whether it is experienced directly, observed/witnessed or perpetrated (by the person/people responsible). Shades of Bias can be used by:
- Victims/survivors of discrimination, to articulate their experiences in a therapeutic and structured way
- Witnesses and observers, to reflect on incidents of bias they encounter and contribute to ethical practice
- Those responsible for bias, to engage in non-punitive reflection, learning, and personal growth
The framework has 3 pathways and one vision. It embraces intersectionality and is underpinned by the protected characteristics in the Equality Act 2010. Based on anti-discriminatory, anti-oppressive and anti-racist values and ethics, Shades of Bias helps to create a culture of accountability, inclusion, self-expression and systemic change.
Whether you are a victim/survivor, witness/observer, or person responsible for bias, Shades of Bias provides a psychologically safe structure to:
- Reveal the event or issue
- Reflect on its dynamics and impact
- Repair through learning, growth and accountability
A philosophical framework for reflection
At its core, Shades of Bias is a conscious rejection of ‘tick-box EDI’ and a bold call for social work to live up to its ethical mandate. It is grounded in anti-discriminatory, anti-oppressive and anti-racist values. However, it reaches beyond these to promote dignified empowerment and restorative learning. Shades of Bias is intentionally non-punitive – designed not to shame, but to enable growth, positive change and cultural competence. It recognises that progress depends not just on systems changing, but on individuals reflecting, learning and being brave enough to do better.
Shades of Bias is an adaptable, expansive and multidimensional framework for healing, self-examination and transformation across policy, practice and education. It provides:
- A safe space to document injustices and validate lived experiences
- A professional development tool that promotes ethical decision-making and inclusive practice
- A resource for institutions to use anonymised case studies to promote collective learning and inform organisational change
It is intended for Shades of Bias to become the standardised framework for documenting discrimination and exposing harmful systemic patterns that are often ignored.
Shades of Bias has the following self-explanatory sections:
- Case study title
- Background and context
- Nature of the incident
- How was the situation handled?
- Reflection and learning
- Reflection and learning (for the person/people responsible for bias)
Shades of Bias is available in multiple formats – PDF, Word, and as an online Microsoft Form – and is supported by detailed guidance.
Shades of Bias does not aim to replace regulation or formal policies/procedures – it offers an accessible middle space between silence and escalation. Its aim is to document harm, cultivate learning and disrupt harmful patterns – especially when more formal channels may be unresponsive.
Unlike many reports that merely outline problems or recommend solutions that are not implemented, Shades of Bias is a universal template developed by BASW England members and staff to document, analyse and support people in real-world scenarios.
Origins rooted in lived reality
Shades of Bias was co-developed and co-produced in response to a groundswell of concerns from Black and Global Majority BASW England members. It is the culmination of collective contributions from frontline practitioners and thought leaders from the Black and Ethnic Minority Professionals Symposium (BPS), Professional Capabilities and Development (PC & D) group, Anti Racist Movement (A.R.M), School of Shabs, BASW England and myself. The concerns raised include:
- Students facing racism during placements and academic experiences
- Practice educators encountering bias in assessment and supervisory contexts
- Newly Qualified Social Workers (NQSWs) struggling against institutional racism in recruitment, progression, and workplace culture
These concerns were escalated through BASW (British Association of Social Workers) and representations made to key stakeholders and partners, highlighting systemic racism in social work education, early career pathways and relevant regulatory frameworks.
Shades of Bias’s launch is timely. Its development coincided with the publication of The Child Safeguarding Review Panel “It’s Silent”: Race, racism and safeguarding children report, which highlighted a lack of accountability in addressing racism in safeguarding practices.
Importantly, Shades of Bias is informed by BASW’s Code of Ethics; Professional Capabilities Framework (PCF); the Local Government Association’s Standards for employers of social workers in England; Social Work England’s professional standards and the Social Care Workforce Race and Equality Standards (SC WRES). Also, it is a logical progression from the BASW England ‘Anti-racism in Social Work’ activities across the UK (between 27/05/20 – 26/09/21) report.
Shantel Thomas, founder of the award winning Anti-Racist Movement (A.R.M.), BPS member and key partner said: “Shades of Bias is more than a tool – it’s a bold declaration that lived experience matters, and that reflection is the first step towards action. As the A.R.M. collective, we are proud to stand behind this transformative framework, which empowers practitioners not only to reveal and reflect on harm, but to repair and rebuild with integrity. This is how we dismantle racism – from the inside out.”
Shabnam Ahmed MBE, founder of School of Shabs, BPS member and key partner said: “Shades of Bias is a transformative tool, powerful for both deep reflection and bold action. It empowers self-agency by giving voice to silenced experiences and challenging the minimisation of racism. True change demands bravery: to recognise that both courage and vulnerability can sit side by side. The discomfort is necessary for accountability. When we face these truths together, change and anti-racism becomes possible.”
More than just a template
Shades of Bias can be used to inform policy, practice and education, as follows:
- In policy, it can inform consultation responses and track systemic patterns of discrimination
- In practice, it serves as a supervision tool, a CPD mechanism and a reflective journal
- In education, it supports students and educators to explore bias meaningfully and sensitively
- It encourages multi-level perspectives and multi-disciplinary dialogue
Shades of Bias can be used:
- Individually for personal reflection, CPD or supervision
- Within teams to address group dynamics and organisational culture
- Across institutions as part of safeguarding, HR processes, whistleblowing or reflective learning
The section for people responsible for the bias supports individuals who have engaged in discriminatory, oppressive or racist actions/behaviours whether knowingly or unwittingly. It has a structured, non-punitive approach to reflection, helping individuals to take responsibility, learn and commit to anti-discriminatory, anti-oppressive and anti-racist practices.
The template encourages people responsible for bias to:
- Recognise and understand personal biases
- Acknowledge and address the harm they have caused
- Align themselves with professional ethics and regulatory expectations
- Contribute to a culture of self-honesty and transformative change
From seed to systemic
Social workers have shared the benefits of implementing and applying Shades of Bias:
- “We all have biases. It’s the human condition. Recognising them is what makes the difference.”
- “I love the guidance questions under each section because it helps me think and probe further into the situation. By the time I get to the reflection at the end, I have literally torn apart the entire situation and now, allows me to think beyond the situation. The fact that the case study is going to be used to “repair” gives me the motivation to complete this.”
- “The ideas are innovative and a pragmatic approach to seeking to achieve change. I can see how I could use it either in my role as a Practice Educator and/or when I take on Anti-Racism within the organisation. The Reveal>Reflect>Repair part is easily relatable too.”
- “I do feel it’s really positive and I could completely relate as a neuro diverse Black woman. Thank you I feel it’s a great resource and is easy to understand.”
- “I just wanted to say that Shades of Bias is a fantastic and ingenious idea! I am genuinely impressed with the depth and thoughtfulness that has gone into developing this framework.”
- “Shades of Bias is a fantastic initiative. This addresses an area often overlooked, as many instances of discrimination, particularly from managers towards social workers, result in disciplinary action but rarely focus on the underlying bias. The burden of proof unfortunately falls on the aggrieved party, who often belongs to the global majority. While this is a positive step, I still believe we need stronger action at the policy level.”
Shades of Bias helps to foster a culture of honesty, humility and hope – centred on the belief that accountability is not an accusation, but a duty of care and professionalism. It is a framework for all levels of the profession – from students and practitioners to senior leaders, from academics to policy influencers. Shades of Bias supports the profession’s evolving need for brave, psychologically safe spaces that honour complexity, intersectionality and human emotions.
What distinguishes Shades of Bias is its belief that transformation starts within. By confronting our blind spots, we move towards integrity and self-awareness. By documenting injustice, we can seed change. By embracing our discomfort, we honour the dignity of others.
Shades of Bias is not a one-off resource. It is a philosophy, a practice and a call to action. If widely adopted, it has the power to humanise systems, reimagine accountability and hardwire social justice into the fabric of social work and beyond. When bias is revealed and reflection is authentic, repair becomes possible.
“When they try to deny us, resist with Shades of Bias!”
‘One world, one race… the human race!’
Download the Shades of Bias case study template and the full suite of materials and templates today at: https://basw.co.uk/shades-bias.
Distorted Mirrors, Fogged Windows: A Call for Deeper Representation in Education
Written by Tamanna Abdul-Karim
Tamanna Abdul-Karim is Assistant Headteacher responsible for Literacy, Equality and Diversity in an inner city school in Birmingham. She has completed the NPQLL and Masters in Educational Leadership and Management /Level 7 Apprenticeship with the National College of Education. She is an English teacher at heart and her desire to create a sense of equality and justice motivates her. It is through education, she hopes to create impact and leave a meaningful legacy.
The concept of “mirrors, windows and sliding doors,” introduced by Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop, has become a foundational framework in conversations around diversity in children’s literature and multicultural education. In her metaphor, mirrors reflect readers’ own identities and lived experiences, windows offer insights into lives different from their own, and sliding doors allow readers to step into those other worlds, fostering deeper engagement and understanding.
This framework is not only relevant in literature — it has transformative potential across all aspects of school life. From curriculum design and cultural representation to enrichment opportunities and even staff recruitment, it offers a way to embed inclusion and equity into the very fabric of educational settings. When embraced authentically, it cultivates a culture where every student is seen, valued, and empowered.
However, if not approached thoughtfully, these mirrors and windows can distort reality. They can perpetuate stereotypes, invisibilise complexity, and contribute to feelings of alienation, shame, or disconnection — particularly for students from minoritised backgrounds.
A Personal Reflection: Distorted Mirrors, Fogged Windows
As a child of Bangladeshi heritage growing up in inner-city Birmingham in the 1990s, my school experience offered only two narratives about my country of origin: that it was poor and that it flooded. While these facts are not untrue, they painted a one-dimensional picture that deeply distorted both my self-image and my understanding of my heritage.
The mirror I was presented with reflected famine-stricken children, submerged villages, and chaotic streets. The window offered a view steeped in deficit — one that suggested my background was something to be downplayed, or even disowned. As a result, I internalised a sense of shame. I learned to code-switch early: Bengali at home, English at school. I adapted the way I spoke, behaved, even the way I ate — compartmentalising parts of my identity to belong.
What my schooling failed to reveal was a far richer, more complex history. I didn’t learn that before colonial rule, Bengal was one of the most prosperous regions in the world — a hub of culture, trade, and innovation. I wasn’t taught about the globally coveted Jamdani textiles, or that Dhaka was once one of the busiest ports on earth. There was no mention of how British colonial policies contributed to devastating famines, or how Bangladesh achieved independence through extraordinary resilience and sacrifice.
This erasure had consequences. It shaped how I saw myself — and how I believed others saw me. It taught me that some stories are celebrated, while others are sidelined.
Who Holds the Mirror? Who Builds the Frame?
This experience highlights a deeper issue: representation is not just about inclusion, but about how people, places, and histories are portrayed — and who gets to do the portraying.
We must ask: Who is holding up the mirror? Whose perspective shapes the window? What frames are we using to present narratives of identity, culture, and heritage?
It is not enough to simply provide visibility. We must examine the structures — the frames and lenses — through which these representations are filtered. If the frame itself is biased or incomplete, then the images it presents will be equally flawed.
A Call to Educators: From Representation to Reimagination
Educators carry immense responsibility. We are not only curators of knowledge — we are architects of perception. Every decision we make about curriculum, literature, resources, or enrichment shapes the mirrors and windows we offer to our students.
This work requires deep reflection. We must interrogate our own biases, challenge inherited narratives, and resist the temptation to present simplified or tokenistic views of cultures and communities. We need to move beyond surface-level inclusion to truly equitable representation.
This begins with unlearning — with a willingness to revisit what we’ve been taught, and to seek out the histories, voices, and perspectives that have long been marginalised.
Because when children see themselves reflected fully — in all their richness and complexity — they stand taller. And when they’re given a window into the full humanity of others, they grow kinder, more curious, and more connected.
Let us hold up better mirrors. Let us open clearer windows. Let us build sliding doors that do not just invite exploration, but also affirm belonging.