Racial Equity in Sheffield: From Commitment to Collective Action

Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
On Friday, I co-organised and co-hosted a Racial Equity Conference in Sheffield for our partners, Sheffield City Council and Learn Sheffield, in collaboration with our Belonging Effect Associate, Homaira Ibrahim.
We opened the day with Simon Sinek’s Golden Circle, inviting everyone in the room to reflect on and share their why. Why were we there? Why does racial equity matter to us? Why are we committed to doing this work?
Before beginning the programme, we also stood together to show our respect and collectively share our condolences with the family, friends and colleagues of Professor Jason Arday.
It was a poignant way to begin a day centred on race, equity, inclusion and belonging.
But the conference was not simply an opportunity to talk about racial equity. It was an opportunity to explore what racial equity looks like when we examine our systems, interrogate our practice, listen to different lived experiences and consider what we are collectively prepared to change.
Because intention matters. But intention alone does not create equity.
Context and collective responsibility
Our first contributions located the conversation firmly within Sheffield.
Fatima Khan-Shah, Chair of the Race Equality Partnership Sheffield (REPS), explored Sheffield’s race equity journey and the role of REPS, highlighting how race equity sits at the heart of the city’s goals and considering the particular role that education and schools play within this wider context.
Meredith Teasdale-Dixon, Strategic Director at Sheffield City Council, focused on responsibility. How do leaders improve outcomes for children and families across Sheffield? How do we create more equitable opportunities and experiences? And importantly, how do we ensure that our commitment results in measurable change?
Dr Shirley Woods-Gallagher, Assistant Director at Sheffield City Council, then explored belonging through an anti-racist lens.
Her contribution connected race, identity, power and inclusion with wellbeing, achievement and community cohesion. Drawing on Sheffield’s citywide Belonging Framework and wider inclusion work, she challenged us to consider how anti-racist practice moves beyond policies and statements of intent and becomes visible in our everyday behaviours, relationships and decision-making.
There was an important thread emerging: racial equity cannot belong to one team, one strategy, one leader or one organisation – it requires collective responsibility. It also requires effort as mentors, coaches and sponsors. Shirley’s role as mentor coach acting as the ladder and lamp for an AuDHD Black trainee teacher really stood out for very many of the audience.
Moving from allyship to advocacy
My contribution to the day focused on allyship and advocacy and, specifically, the journey we take as allies. I invited colleagues to reflect on privilege, vulnerability and our willingness to get things wrong.
Anti-racist work can create discomfort. It can surface strong emotions. It can challenge our perception of ourselves as inclusive people and force us to recognise the occasions when our intentions and our impact have not aligned. But discomfort cannot become an excuse for disengagement.
We need to develop the confidence and courage to create and hold safe spaces for difficult conversations. We need to become more comfortable with being challenged, with learning from mistakes and with recognising what we do not yet know. And we need to be prepared to challenge language, behaviours, decisions and practices that exclude or disadvantage others.
Jennifer Brown’s Allyship Continuum invites us to consider a journey from Apathetic to Aware, from Aware to Active, and ultimately from Active to Advocate.
Perhaps one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves is not simply:
Where do I think I am on that continuum?
But:
What evidence would somebody else use to place me there?
Allyship is not something we declare. It is something other people experience through our choices, behaviours and actions.
Holding the space for inclusion and belonging
Professor Paul Miller, from the Institute for Equity at University Centre, challenged us through his provocation, Democratic Failure or Democratic Resistance: Holding the Centre-Ground in the Fight for Inclusion and Belonging.
His contribution created space for us to think about the wider environment in which our work is taking place and the importance of continuing to engage with questions of inclusion and belonging when they are contested.
Anti-racist practice does not happen in isolation from society. Our schools, organisations and communities are influenced by the narratives, tensions and inequalities that exist beyond their walls.
This means that our commitment to equity cannot simply be reactive. It requires us to understand the context in which we are leading and educating, while remaining clear about our responsibility to create environments in which every child, family and colleague can experience dignity, safety and belonging.
Intersectionality changes what we see
One of the most important themes of the day was intersectionality. Too often, our organisational approaches separate different aspects of inclusion into parallel workstreams. Race sits here. SEND sits there. Gender, faith, socio-economic disadvantage and other aspects of identity sit somewhere else. But people do not experience their identities separately.
Domini Choudhury, Associate at The Belonging Effect, explored what happens when we frame SEND intersectionally. Her session challenged colleagues to consider the multi-layered barriers some learners and their families navigate when trying to have their needs recognised and met. These include societal and systemic barriers within the SEND system itself, but also culturally specific barriers to diagnosis and support.
Cultural and religious frameworks can shape how disability and additional needs are understood. Practitioner bias and unconscious assumptions can influence whose needs are recognised, how behaviours are interpreted and what support is offered.
This creates an important challenge for leaders:
- What happens when we interrogate our SEND data through an intersectional lens?
- Who is being identified?
- Who is not?
- Who receives support, and when?
- Whose behaviour is interpreted as a need and whose is interpreted as a problem?
The data we collect matters. But the questions we are prepared to ask of that data matter too.
Language, identity and the experiences of Black boys
Johnoi Josephs and Albert Adeyemi, founders of Black Men Teach, focused our attention on the educational experiences of Black boys. Their contribution explored the relationship between the language we use and the realities and self-belief we help to create.
Language is never neutral. The words we use to describe children communicate expectations. They shape relationships. They influence how other adults perceive a child and, over time, can influence how that child perceives themselves.
Johnoi and Albert invited us to think intentionally about how we build pride, belonging and positive identity both inside and outside the classroom, and how we create accessible and empowering learning environments in which Black boys can thrive.
This requires us to move beyond deficit narratives and ask different questions:
- Not What is wrong with this child?
- But What might this child be experiencing?
- Not Why will this family not engage?
- But What barriers might we have created to engagement?
- Not simply How do we raise achievement?
- But How do we create the conditions in which children feel seen, valued, understood and able to succeed?
Whose lived experience are we centring?
Olivia Morrison from The Traveller Movement brought another vital perspective to the conversation. Her session explored the discrimination experienced by Romani (Gypsy), Roma and Irish Traveller people, the equality gaps that persist, and the importance of working in genuine partnership with the communities.
Central to this was the need to centre lived experience within anti-racist activity. There is an important distinction between designing for communities and working with them.
If we are serious about equity, we cannot assume that professional expertise gives us all of the answers. We need to listen to people whose experiences of our institutions and systems may be very different from the experiences we believe we are creating. That requires humility. It also requires us to ask who is missing from the conversations in which decisions about them are being made.
Bringing the conversation back to Sheffield
Homaira Ibrahim, Race Equality Partnership Manager at Sheffield City Council and Belonging Effect Associate, brought the different threads of the day back together through the specific context of race, ethnicity and belonging in Sheffield schools. She shared findings from Sheffield’s Race Equality Commission and its recommendations for education, alongside the city’s ethnicity data and current landscape.
She also highlighted the work of AREAS, the Anti Racist Education Alliance Sheffield, the support available for Sheffield schools and opportunities for future collaboration.
This was important. National conversations help us understand patterns and systems. Research helps us understand evidence. Lived experience helps us understand impact. But ultimately, equity work also has to become local:
- What does our data tell us about our children?
- What are our families telling us?
- What patterns can we see within our institutions?
- And what are we going to do about them?
From conversation to collective action
We ended the day with roundtable discussions prompted by Sheffield City Council’s Director of Belonging, Steve Kay.
Three questions were posed:
- What support, resources or opportunities would help you further develop your anti-racist practice?
- What actions can we take collectively to improve outcomes and opportunities for Roma children, families and communities?
- How can we strengthen engagement with marginalised groups to ensure equitable access to Early Years provision?
For me, these questions captured something important about the day. They moved us from What have we heard? to What are we going to do?
Because conferences can create powerful moments of reflection, connection and learning. But the real test comes afterwards – what changes when we return to our schools, teams, organisations and communities?
We show up. We stand up. We speak up. We check in.
We ended the conference by making commitments:
- We show up – Not only when conversations are comfortable or when racial equity is on the agenda, but consistently.
- We stand up – We challenge inequity when we encounter it. We notice who has power, who has access, who is heard and who may be overlooked.
- We speak up – We use our voices, our influence and our privilege to challenge exclusion and advocate alongside others.
- We check in – We listen. We reflect. We seek feedback. We examine our impact. And when necessary, we change our approach.
Anti-racist practice requires us to move through the fear zone, into the learning zone and onwards into the growth zone. It requires curiosity, humility and courage. And it requires action.
The question is not simply whether we care about racial equity. I imagine that most people who chose to spend Friday in that room do.
The harder questions come next:
- What will we notice that we did not notice before?
- What will we question that we previously accepted?
- Whose experiences will we seek to understand?
- What conversations will we now be willing to have?
- What will we challenge?
- What will we change?
Because our commitment to racial equity cannot be measured solely by what we say in rooms where people have gathered because they already care about it. It must be visible in what happens when we leave those rooms. That is where awareness becomes action. That is where allyship becomes advocacy. And that is where we begin shaping intention into impact.
Continue the learning
For those wanting to continue their learning and reflection, my recommended reading from the day was Emma Dabiri’s What White People Can Do Next.
Professor Miller has also shared the article that he cited in his talk: A common enemy approach to anti-racism in higher education | THE Campus Learn, Share, Connect
The Belonging Effect also has a range of free resources to support individuals, schools and organisations in developing their DEIB practice, including our DEIB Calendar, blogs, toolkits, reading lists and glossaries.
Further development opportunities discussed during the day included Sheffield City Council’s Developing Racial Literacy programme, The Belonging Effect’s Diverse Leaders programme, and our Anti-Racism Virtual Conference.
The conference may have ended on Friday. The work, of course, needs to continue and be sustained.
History’s Warning: Section 28 and the Fight for Future Educational Inclusion

Written by Dr Kayden J. Schumacher
Dr. Kayden J. Schumacher (they/he) is a Research Fellow at Coventry University working across all work packages on the Horizon Europe-funded YOUROPE project, which focuses on strengthening youth participation in European democracy, particularly among underrepresented groups. With a multidisciplinary background spanning psychology, education, health, and social policy, their work explores the intersections of mental health, physical wellbeing, gender diversity, and democratic participation across educational and community settings.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
(Santayana, 1905, p. 284)
In 1988 the then Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher and her Conservative Government responded with a moral panic to a same-sex couple in children’s book taking things out of proportion and aiming to pass legislation known as Section 28 (Lee, 2019). Section 28 was part of the Local Government Act (1988) and on paper, it was framed as a safeguard against “promoting homosexuality” in schools. But, in reality, it was a direct state-sanctioned silencing of LGBTQ+ people, specifically students and educators. Passing Section 28 made it against the law for any local authority to “(a) intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality; (b) promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship” (Local Government Act, 1988).
Looking back, it is staggering to think that such a discriminatory law ostracising an already marginalised group could take root in a country of people who had just been through the AIDS epidemic, where “Silence=Death” (Kerr, 2017) was not just a protest slogan but a daily reality. The 1980s moral climate in the UK was steeped in fear and stigma. Tabloid headlines fuelled homophobia, framing LGBT+ people as a public threat (Collins, 2025; Lovelock, 2018). Thatcher’s government leaned into “traditional family values,” capitalising on public anxieties about social change (Somerville, 1992). The moral panic around LGBT+ visibility in schools was amplified by broader conservative backlash against feminist gains, multiculturalism and what was labelled “political correctness” (Baker, 2022; Duffy, 2025; Weeks, 1990). Conservative MPs used the rhetoric of “protecting children,” but what they were really protecting was cisheteronormative dominance.
Resistance to laws like Section 28 did exist, as it always has. In a now-iconic example, a group of lesbian activists broke into the BBC during the 6 o’clock live news broadcast to protest Section 28 and the harm of this legislation. Their message beamed into living rooms and pubs across the country and was widely noticed, but ultimately did not stop the law from passing, thereby cementing a culture of silence, bullying, and marginalisation in schools across England. For the next 15 years, Section 28 legitimised an environment where LGBT+ students and staff were erased, and where conversations about identity, consent, or healthy relationships could be construed as illegal. For trans and gender-diverse people, whose identities were barely recognised in mainstream discourse, the law meant complete erasure.
When I arrived in England in September 2022, the very day Queen Elizabeth II passed away, I was beginning a PhD exploring trans and gender-diverse experiences in English schools from 1988 to 2023. As someone who grew up in a small, homogeneous Catholic town in the US, hiding my pansexual and transgender identity for fear of backlash, I felt an immediate resonance with what my participants told me about their school years under Section 28. Their stories carried the same themes I had known of silence, shame, and the need to fragment oneself, being one person in school and another in private. But unlike my own experience, their marginalisation was explicitly legislated.
Even after Section 28’s repeal in England in 2003, my participants described school as having a sort of “shadow” of Section 28, where there was an institutionalised culture of cisheteronormativity that persisted in school structures, policies and everyday interactions, despite the repeal of the law. There were still rigid binaries enforced in areas like PE, sex education, toilets, and classrooms. Mental health was rarely openly discussed, LGBT+ teachers often concealed their identities and bodies were policed according to narrow norms without affirmation or recognition of diversity.
The 2010s gave the impression of progress. The Equality Act 2010 legally protected people against discrimination based on “sexual orientation” and “gender reassignment” (Equality Act, 2010, s.7). Ofsted began inspecting for homophobic bullying in 2012 (Ofsted, 2012). The first Trans Pride was held in Brighton in 2013 (McConnell, 2014). Same-sex marriage became legal in England and Wales in 2014, and media representation of trans people increased (BBC’s Boy Meets Girl, Lavern Cox on the Cover of Time, Jazz Jennings’ reality show), there was a perhaps naïve sense that visibility and policy change were working together to build a more inclusive future.
But if history teaches us anything, it is that progress is never linear. The current climate in the UK carries unsettling echoes of the past. Today the UK is seeing the re-emergence of very rigid gender binaries in public discourse, something that harms not only trans people, but everyone whose life does not neatly fit the “trad wife” (Bower, 2024) or “manosphere” (Ging, 2019) mould (More in Common, 2022). There is an increasing disregard for diversity across race, gender, sexual orientation, and religion. Emotional expression is again being boxed in with boys allowed anger but not vulnerability, and girls allowed fragility but not power. And while the internet boom was just beginning in the 1980s, it promised connection and organising for change, it is now equally capable of isolating, surveilling, and policing interactions, echoing Section 28’s original aim: control.
The slogan, “Silence = Death” (Kerr, 2017), born from AIDS activism, still echoes with urgent clarity. Then, it was a rallying cry against government inaction during a health crisis, now, it is a warning, a reminder, and a call to resist the erasure of trans and gender-diverse lives in education and beyond. My research traces these legacies through the stories of trans and gender-diverse students and educators, showing that the repeal of Section 28 did not erase its shadows and its repeal cannot undo systemic harm. Laws can change, but cultures of silence linger, shaping classrooms, policies, and hearts. Section 28 teaches us that silence harms the most marginalised first, but its ripples reach everyone. Representation without structural change leaves the door open for backlash. We must be vigilant: attentive to how quickly silence can return, how rigid binaries can reassert themselves, and how appeals to “protecting children” can be wielded as instruments of control.
The work before us in our democratic society, especially in education is quiet but urgent, we must name injustice where it festers, nurture spaces for complexity, and ensure that trans and gender-diverse students and educators never again endure the sanctioned invisibility that once passed for law. Visibility alone is not enough. Genuine inclusion demands action, care, and relentless attention so that the lessons of the past guide us, the voices of the present are heard, and the future is shaped by courage rather than fear, only then can we ensure we all have remembered the past and are not condemned to repeat it.
References
Baker, P. (2022). Outrageous!: The story of Section 28 and Britain’s battle for LGBT+
education. Reaktion Books.
Bower, L. J. (2024). The thorn in feminism’s side: black feminist reconceptualization and
defence of #tradwives and the #tradwife movement. Journal of Gender Studies, 1–17.
https://doi.org/10.1080/09589236.2024.2423198
Duffy, S. (2025). Moral panics and legal projects: echoes of Section 28 in United Kingdom
transgender discourse and law reform. Gender and Justice, 1(1), 78-99. Retrieved
Aug 15, 2025, from https://doi.org/10.1332/30333660Y2024D000000008
Equality Act 2010, s. 7. (2010). Legislation.gov.uk. Retrieved from
https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2010/15/section/7
Ging, D. (2019). Alphas, betas, and incels: Theorizing the masculinities of the
manosphere. Men and masculinities, 22(4), 638-657.
Kerr, T. (2017 June 20). How Six NYC Activists Changed History With ‘Silence =
Death’. The Village Voice. https://www.villagevoice.com/how-six-nyc-activists changed-history-with-silence-death/
Lee, C. (2019). Fifteen years on: the legacy of section 28 for LGBT+ teachers in English
schools. Sex Education, 19(6), 675–690.
https://doi.org/10.1080/14681811.2019.1585800
Local Government Act 1988, c. 9, s. 28. (1988). Legislation.gov.uk. Retrieved from
https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1988/9/section/28
Lovelock, M. (2018). Sex, death and austerity: resurgent homophobia in the British tabloid
press. Critical Studies in Media Communication, 35(3), 225-239.
McConnell, F. (2014, September 8). Trans Pride Brighton defines key year for emerging
community. The Guardian. Retrieved from
https://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/sep/08/-sp-trans-pride-brighton-lgbt-equality
More in Common UK. (2022). Britons and gender identity: Navigating common ground and
Collins, M. (2025). “Gays in Your Living Room”: LGBTQ+ television, homophobia, and the
birth of Channel 4 in 1980s Britain. Journalism History, 51(1), 5-23.
Ofsted. (2012). School inspection handbook: handbook for inspecting schools in England
under section 5 of the Education Act 2005 (as amended) from September 2012.
Somerville J. (1992). The New Right and family politics. Economy and society, 21(2), 93
Weeks, J. (1990). Coming Out: Homosexual Politics in Britain from the Nineteenth Century
to the Present. Quartet Books.
RIP Professor Jason Arday: The Tragic Cost of Scrutiny

Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Rest in peace, Professor Jason Arday.
The news of his death at just 41 years old is heartbreaking and devastating. A partner, father, son, friend and colleague has been lost.
My social media timeline is awash with tributes to a man who impacted so many. I never met Professor Jason Arday, but I followed and admired him from afar. I feel deeply sad at his loss, angry at how he was treated and sick to my stomach that we find ourselves standing at yet another crossroads where our shared humanity is being questioned.
Professor Arday, a working-class Black man, became the youngest Black professor in the University of Cambridge’s history. His remarkable journey, scholarship and leadership should be remembered and celebrated.
His death is a devastating loss to education. It should also make us confront some difficult questions about racism, scrutiny, trauma, mental health, the media and institutional responsibility.
Content warning: This article discusses mental health, racism and death.
Contribution
Professor Jason Arday dedicated his life to challenging inequality in education, opening doors for those too often left outside them and pushing institutions to become more reflective of the society they serve.
His work helped shape important conversations about race, social mobility, inclusion and educational justice.
A post by The Black Curriculum reminds us that in moments like these, we all have a choice about the stories we amplify. Let us not reduce a life of service, scholarship and advocacy to its final chapter:
- Let us remember the work.
- Let us remember the impact.
- Let us remember the lives changed because he dared to imagine something better.
We need to drive the right narrative, to honour the legacy and to remember the work.
Accusations, Accountability and Humanity
Professor Arday faced serious public accusations concerning his academic work and other aspects of his record. He disputed allegations of deliberate wrongdoing, and some previous allegations had not been upheld.
I fully agree that questions about academic integrity deserve proper scrutiny.
Accountability matters. Investigations matter. Evidence matters. Truth matters.
But people matter too.
An investigation should never become a process in which we forget there is a human being at its centre.
Professor Arday’s family has spoken about the impact of sustained abuse, harassment and misinformation. The precise circumstances surrounding his death have not yet been established publicly, and we should be careful not to claim a medical or legal cause that has not been confirmed.
But acknowledging that uncertainty does not require us to ignore the context in which his death occurred.
Everyone deserves fairness, due process and an opportunity to respond to allegations without being subjected to relentless public humiliation. Scrutiny and accountability are not the same as dehumanisation.
The Media
I firmly believe that our media needs to take a long, hard look at itself.
Professor Arday was subjected to an extraordinary level of public scrutiny. NEWSCORD has catalogued 249 articles published about him over a period of just 22 days.
Think about that… Two hundred and forty-nine articles… Twenty-two days…
Front pages and headlines are not produced in a vacuum. Editors decide which stories deserve repeated attention. Algorithms reward outrage and engagement. Audiences click, share, comment and search for the next revelation.
Collectively, a human being can become content.
Whatever the rights and wrongs of the allegations against Professor Arday, we must be able to ask whether this level and intensity of scrutiny was proportionate and in the public interest.
We must also be prepared to ask another, more uncomfortable question:
Would everybody have been subjected to the same scrutiny?
This is where it is important that we need to acknowledge and talk about racism.
If we cast our memories back to 1993 when Stephen Lawrence was murdered, there was public outcry at the time about the wrongdoing. The media focused on the individuals and the institutions who were in the wrong to ensure that they were held to account. This led to a lengthy investigation and the publication of the Macpherson Report in 1999. It famously concluded that the Metropolitan Police investigation failed due to “institutional racism,” professional incompetence, and a lack of leadership.
I am curious who will be holding to account the individuals and institutions who are collectively responsible for Professor Arday’s death. I wonder who will drive this justice forward for him and for his family.
Racism, Scrutiny and the Invisible Weight
Racism has severe consequences.
It is not always a racial slur or an explicitly discriminatory act. It can operate through systems, cultures, expectations and patterns of behaviour. It can shape who is presumed competent, who is given the benefit of the doubt, who is scrutinised most intensely, whose mistakes are survivable and whose mistakes become defining.
Professor Arday’s death has prompted many Black academics, educators and leaders to speak publicly about the racialised nature of scrutiny and the invisible weight of occupying spaces in which people like them remain underrepresented.
That invisible weight matters:
- The weight of representation.
- The weight of being “the first”.
- The weight of knowing that your success may be treated as evidence of progress while your mistakes may be used as evidence against an entire agenda for equality.
- The weight of wondering whether you will be afforded the same grace as others.
- The weight of having to be resilient again and again and again.
Racism creates trauma. The cumulative experience of racism can affect mental health, physical health which in turn impacts individual levels of confidence, trust, safety, hope and belonging.
We cannot discuss what happened to Professor Arday without being willing to discuss that context.
In His Own Words
A few weeks ago, I signed the Good Law Project’s Solidarity Letter supporting Professor Arday.
On 5 August, as a signatory I received a personal update from him confirming that he had resigned from his position at the University of Cambridge.
He reflected on becoming the youngest Black professor in Cambridge’s history, something he said he could scarcely have imagined as a child growing up with autism and not speaking until he was 11.
More significantly, he described the personal impact of the scrutiny he was experiencing. He wrote of the “profound toll” the accusations, speculation and public commentary had taken on him and those he loved.
And then came the sentence that, reading it again now, feels particularly heart-breaking: “But there comes a point when the personal cost becomes too great.”
He spoke about wanting to be present for his family. He wanted peace… privacy… an ordinary life. He no longer wanted to live under a constant spotlight in which every aspect of his life was subjected to public examination and judgement.
I think we should sit with those words. Sit with that discomfort. Sit with the knowledge that his Black Excellence had led to such significant personal harm.
Institutional Racism
The Macpherson Report famously described institutional racism as the collective failure of an organisation to provide an appropriate and professional service because of someone’s colour, culture or ethnic origin, manifested through processes, attitudes and behaviours that disadvantage minority ethnic people.
Sivanandan, A. Director, Institute of Race Relations, described institutional racism as racism residing, overtly or covertly, within the policies, procedures, operations and cultures of institutions.
These definitions matter because they remind us, as The Commission for Racial Equality stated, that racism does not require an individual person to consciously decide to behave in a racist way.
We need to look at patterns, processes, cultures and consequences.
We need to ask the hard questions about who currently benefits from our systems:
- Who is harmed by them?
- Who is protected?
- Who is exposed?
- Who is believed?
- Who is given grace?
- And who is required to demonstrate exceptional resilience merely to remain in the room?
A lens I emphasise in our Belonging Effect DEIB training is that our focus should be on the impact instead of the intention of our words, behaviours and actions.
There is not an individual who is solely responsible for Professor Arday’s death, there are many people with his blood on their hands.
Representation Matters, but Representation Is Not Enough
Success does not insulate Black professionals from racism, hostility or harassment. In fact, sometimes increased visibility can make the scrutiny greater.
For people of colour occupying significant positions, there can be an invisible mental load attached to being highly visible and underrepresented: the fear of getting something wrong, of being judged more harshly, of being expected to represent more than yourself, or of discovering how precarious acceptance can become when something goes wrong.
That burden must be recognised because representation alone is not inclusion.
Representation without protection is not inclusion.
Visibility without psychological safety is not belonging.
And celebrating someone’s resilience while ignoring what requires them to be resilient in the first place is not progress.
Institutional Responsibility
Universities and the media need to take a long, hard look in the mirror.
It is not enough for institutions to recruit diverse talent, celebrate “firsts”, publish photographs, announce appointments and point to representation as evidence of progress.
Institutions have a responsibility to the human beings behind those achievements:
- What happens when they become vulnerable?
- Who protects them when scrutiny becomes overwhelming?
- Who notices when accountability becomes humiliation?
- Who intervenes when criticism becomes harassment?
- Who considers the cumulative impact of racism, ableism, classism and public scrutiny?
- Who safeguards the person while the process takes place?
We need to lead institutions where people do not have to become exceptionally resilient simply to survive them.
Professor Jason Arday’s death should not become another moment of collective grief followed by institutional silence.
I think it is important to remember that we can hold two things at once:
- We can believe in academic integrity and humanity.
- We can believe in accountability and proportionality.
- We can believe in scrutiny and dignity.
- We can ask legitimate questions about someone’s work without forgetting that there is a human being answering them.
And we can acknowledge that racism does not have to be the only factor operating in a situation for us to examine seriously how race shaped what happened.
My thoughts are with Professor Arday’s family, friends, colleagues and all those mourning him. I have discovered in the last 24 hrs how many of my network were connected to him and have been impacted by his death.
May he rest in peace. May we learn from this tragic loss.
Read, Reflect and Act
Read and engage with the reflections being shared across our network and wider community, including those from: Adam Vasco, Caroline Keep, Chantelle Haughton, Clive Lawrence, Domini Choudhury, Patrick Cozier, Shammi Rahman, The Black Curriculum.
Read Broken Ladders from The Runnymede Trust and consider what the evidence tells us about racism and the experiences of people of colour within UK academia.
Follow, listen to and engage with organisations campaigning for racial equity and racial justice, including: 100 Black Professors, 100 Black Headteachers, Aspiring Heads, BAMEed, DARPL, Everyday Racism, REND, The Black Curriculum and The Runnymede Trust. (Lots of these orgs are listed in our DEIB Directory).
Consider filing a complaint against the media outlets that printed endless stories about Professor Jason Arday.
Consider donating to the GoFundMe page set up by Professor Sir Patrick Vernon OBE FrHistS – ‘In Memory of Dr Jason Atta Kwei Arday: Supporting His Family’.
Most importantly, do not let this conversation disappear when the headlines do.
Racism has consequences. Institutional responsibility matters. Our shared humanity matters.
What Happens When We Listen to Children About Peace?

Written by Jim Dees
Jim Dees is the headteacher of West Lodge Primary School. He is the co-founder of YESFest.
On 18th May, more than 70 primary-aged Young Ambassadors for Peace gathered at the House of Lords for An Experiential Peace Dialogue: Living Peace in Action. Hosted by Baroness Verma and attended by members of the House of Lords, including Lord Raval, the event brought together educators, researchers, sustainability leaders, policymakers and community partners to explore an important question: What role can peace education play in helping young people thrive in today’s world? The event brought together educators, researchers, sustainability leaders, policymakers and community partners to explore an important question: What role can peace education play in helping young people thrive in today’s world?
The Young Ambassadors for Peace (YAP) programme, organised by the Brahma Kumaris World Spiritual University UK, brings together primary school pupils to explore peace within the self, peace with others and peace with nature through reflection, dialogue, leadership and action. What stood out most was not the programme itself, but the children. Speaking about peace within the self, peace with others and peace with nature, pupils aged between nine and eleven shared their experiences with remarkable wisdom, clarity and authenticity. They spoke about self-regulation, empathy, interfaith understanding, leadership, sustainability and belonging. They led meditations, answered questions from invited guests and demonstrated that children are capable of far more than we sometimes assume.
One child explained that the programme should focus on young people “to make a better generation.” Another reminded the audience that children are capable of making a positive difference in the world today, not simply in the future.
The event reinforced a growing belief that peace education is not an optional extra. It sits alongside wider conversations around wellbeing, belonging, citizenship, sustainability and pupil agency. At a time when schools are navigating increasing complexity, there is a growing need to create opportunities for children to develop not only knowledge and skills, but also self-awareness, compassion, responsibility and a sense of connection with others and the natural world.
Perhaps most importantly, the showcase highlighted a shift that is gaining momentum across education and beyond: seeing children not as empty vessels to be filled, but as active contributors with voice, agency, insight and wisdom. When we create the conditions for children to lead, reflect and contribute, they often bring perspectives that adults can easily overlook.
Looking ahead, we are keen to strengthen the evidence base for peace education, build partnerships across sectors and communities, and connect practice, research and policy. We would particularly welcome conversations with researchers, universities, schools, charities and organisations interested in collaboration, evaluation and further development of this work.
The next stage of that journey takes place at the Young Ambassadors for Peace Festivals in Oxford (10 June), London (12 June) and Leicester (17 June), where pupils will share their learning through experiential exhibitions, presentations and performances. These events provide an opportunity not only to celebrate the achievements of the children, but also to engage in a wider conversation about the role of peace education in supporting wellbeing, belonging, citizenship, sustainability and positive social change.
Places at all three events must be booked in advance. If you would like to attend, please register at https://yapglobal.org/peacefest2026/. We would particularly welcome educators, researchers, community leaders, policymakers and potential partners who are interested in exploring how peace education can help develop more compassionate, connected and sustainable communities.
Perhaps the most powerful message from the House of Lords came from the children themselves. In a world that often underestimates young people, they reminded us that they are not simply the leaders of tomorrow, but active contributors today — capable of helping to build more compassionate, connected and hopeful futures if we are willing to listen.
Using the Froebelian principles to navigate social justice in early childhood education and beyond

Written by Rachna Joshi
Rachna is a teacher and consultant. She works with under-threes, Nursery and Reception children, and holds an MA in Early Childhood Studies. Rachna writes and speaks at events sharing experience and knowledge, empowering practitioners and provoking questions to disrupt routine practice. She supports schools by guiding educators to implement inspiring practice that reflects their classes. She works as a freelance consultant and with the Froebel Trust as a travelling tutor.
Having a strong set of principles and worldview is taken with us into our role as educators. Principles, like the Froebelian principles, provide a philosophical framework in which to base our actions upon. It acts as a compass to guide us in times when we are uncertain.
The book; Froebel and social justice, looks at the themes of social justice; diversity, equality, equity and participation, and interrogates the ways in which Froebel and his ideas for education articulate and look to achieve social justice in times today.
The Froebelian framework asks us to start with ourselves, and who we are as individuals and educators. Understanding who we are helps us to help others in understanding who they are, for example, working with children to explore a part of their identity in a sensitive way that celebrates their uniqueness and wholly accepts and recognises all different parts of them.
This task does not come without its challenges, bias creeps into our minds, stereotypes, hierarchies of what is acceptable and less acceptable alter our worldviews and ability to see clearly the individual in front of us. The work to reflect on our thoughts and ideas aligns closely with Froebelian and Freieran concepts.
The Froebelian principle of Unity and Connectedness runs through the work of social justice, finding connections, similarities and celebrating differences. As well, the principle Relationship Matters, ensures that we meet the child and their family where they are at, and understand the fluidity of different needs and evolving contexts. When thinking about the children we work with, do we know enough about their family and their culture and do we try to learn or understand the nuances of each child’s unique world? Do we as educators consider the power we hold in our work with children, from simply organising the environment, to the interactions or rules we create to manage the spaces we are in? For example, do we consider babies and young children’s consent when being physically handled? Are we empathetic educators who understand the complexities in children’s worlds? An example that I share in the book discusses the very real fear of the hand dryer in the children’s toilets at a school – what do educators do to empathise with this and remove this feeling of fear.
Whilst exploring the larger themes of social justice the second part of Froebel and Social Justice uses the four freedoms; from fear, from want, of speech and of worship as a lens to tackle the issues of social justice within classroom contexts. These offer a wider exploration of ecological situations that arise which have an impact on the child and the family at the interpersonal level. The freedom from worship is explored through the lens of beliefs, religion, culture and Nature as ways to take part in worthwhile celebrations and events.
Many educators who are unfamiliar with Froebel may not be aware of his own work towards social justice in his context in Germany in the 1800s. He advocated for women to be teachers when during his time this was not the norm, and he ensured his educational institutions were for all children – boys and girls from all different backgrounds which again was not usual for this time. In his ideas of education he constantly wrote books and letters to help change the minds of those within his community towards an approach to education that enables children to think freely for themselves and see the connections of the world around them.
In some places, social justice is an add on, instead of being the foundation of which we hold ourselves in our workplaces. The book Froebel and Social Justice is a practical book that is for educators who work with a range of different aged children to reflect and renew their commitment to creating a socially just world.
Pre-order Froebel and Social justice here: https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/froebel-and-social-justice-9781350529328/
Empowering Young People to Change the World

Written by Nicola Wetherall
Nicola is an RE teacher by training, but a specialist and Lead Practitioner for Holocaust, genocide and human rights education at Royal Wootton Bassett Academy, she curates the Empowering Young People to Change the World teacher conference series. She combines her part time role at RWBA with her Associate Professor (Teaching) role at the UCL Centre for Holocaust Education, specialising in curriculum, pedagogy and school development by supporting the Quality Mark process and Beacon School alumni engagement. Nicola founded the Holocaust, their family, me and us schools project.
This year’s DEIB Showcase for #EYP2CtW26 session felt like an expansion – a widening of what we pay attention to in schools, and a reminder that belonging is not an optional extra but a foundation.
We began with Hannah Wilson, who was joined by, and introduced us to, colleagues from the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators) network, who each brought a richness of experience, context and lived insight that was both energising and deeply grounding. But before I turn to each contribution in turn, I want to say a special thankyou to Hannah, an ally and leader who has supported #EYP2CtW26 conference for many years now, and once again curated a session for us today that was compelling, generous and full of practical wisdom.
So first we welcomed Yassar Hussain – from the UAE – who talked us through GEMS Metropole’s DEIB journey, referring to a range of scholarship that had informed that process, the importance of intentionality, student voice and agency. Yassar’s section was a powerful reminder that belonging doesn’t happen by accident, it’s built through deliberate choices around staff awareness, curriculum representation and student voice. His ‘journey’ within this work, reminded me how small, consistent actions across a year can shift culture, confidence and connection. I think that Yassar’s story offered a practical challenge for all of us: What would it look like to map our own DEIB journey across a year (staff learning, curriculum audits, student voice, community engagement) and treat it as a cycle of listening, acting and refining? For me, his contribution offered #EYP2CtW26 delegates (and me) us a template for intentional, sustainable progress, a next step be it short, medium or long term.
Next, it was a privilege to invite Monia Sahar Zahid and Claire Shooter – from HABS Elstree – who rather beautifully reminded us that belonging isn’t something you switch on in a crisis, it’s the product of the culture you’ve built long before tensions surface. Their emphasis on intellectual humility, visible inclusion and shared experiences offered a powerful blueprint for how schools can create the conditions for safety, trust and connection, even when global events hit the school gates, with a focus on the pastoral and safeguarding rather than the politics or teaching. I was struck by their noticing – their check-ins with staff and students, the human connections and deep rooted respect that revealed. I know several of the anecdotes shared, resonated powerfully with the 460+ educators accessing the session live – and the sense of thanks and gratitude for highlighting those moments was palpable in the chat forum spaces. My takeaway was need to reflect on our own readiness: Do we have the frameworks, shared language and staff confidence to hold difficult conversations before they arrive at our door? The SAFE framework they shared with us and emphasis on defensible decision‑making offer practical starting points for schools wanting to strengthen their approach to belonging, identity and conflict‑sensitive practice. So this was great to share.
Last but not least we were pleased to host Azuraye Williams from the Transform Trust, her contribution brought us back to something deceptively simple but deeply important: belonging starts with people, not paperwork. Her trust‑wide work showed how culture, connection and relationships must come before policies if we want DEIB to be lived rather than laminated, a reminder that systems only shift when humans do. Colleagues were taken with the meaningful and purposeful work undertaken to engage governors, but for me Azuraye left us a practical challenge: How well do we really know the belonging story of our own school? Her trust‑wide approach (surveying every child, engaging DEIB leads, and focusing on each school’s unique context) offered a clear starting point for any setting wanting to move from intention to impact.
It was that intentionality across the session was noticeable and built upon Hannah’s introductory remarks and concluding framing of belonging as a human need. Each contribution built on the last: from GEMS Metropole’s DEEI journey, to navigating global conflict at HABS Elstree, to trust‑wide belonging work at Transform Trust, and throughout, the examples shared (curriculum audits, microaggressions training, belonging surveys, pupil‑led research, ‘people before policies’) reminding us that belonging is not a slogan. It is a practice. A culture. A way of showing up for one another in schools.
In a climate where DEIB work is sometimes misrepresented or politicised, today was a powerful reminder that this work is not about ideology. It is rights‑respecting, dignity‑affirming, and safeguarding‑aligned. It is about ensuring that every child (and every adult) feels safe, seen, valued and able to bring their whole self into a school community. Nothing more complicated, nothing more controversial than that – and yet, the work can feel lonely, induce anxiety and expose vulnerability. I am deeply grateful to Hannah, Yassar, Claire, Monia and Azuraye, for their time, expertise and generosity of sharing, and this thread and spirit continues across the rest of the week.
If you missed this year’s DEIB Showcase for #EYP2CtW26 you can catch up here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5Qv_qeF-NpWPGep25cYsrp0zuYDEPH9c
I’m reminded again that when educators gather with honesty, courage and care, we don’t just learn, we widen our circle of belonging, and in doing so, we create the conditions for empowered young people to do the same.
Benedict’s Law and the implications for schools

Written by Tracey Dunn
Tracey Dunn is the Education and AllergyWise® Manager for Anaphylaxis UK. Tracey joined the team following her retirement from Headship having taught and led schools for 30 years. Tracey works with a number of different organisations to ensure the safety of students with allergies. These include the Department of Education and co-chairing the education group of the National Allergy Strategy.
Thankfully, fatal anaphylaxis is rare, but, when it does occur, the consequences are devastating. Helen and Peter Blythe have been tirelessly campaigning for change following the tragic death of their five-year-old son Benedict, who died at school in December 2021 after experiencing anaphylaxis. Their efforts have highlighted critical gaps in how schools protect children with allergies.
Although statutory guidance titled Supporting Pupils with Medical Conditions in School exists, it has not been updated since 2017. During the inquest into Benedict’s death, the Department for Education (DfE) acknowledged these shortcomings and announced it would undertake a review and update of the guidance. Research conducted by the Benedict Blythe Foundation into schools’ ability to respond to allergic emergencies found significant cause for concern. Despite schools being permitted to hold spare adrenaline auto-injectors (AAIs) since 2017, only a small proportion had done so. Combined with inconsistent training and a lack of clear allergy policies, this left children with allergies vulnerable and potentially at risk. These findings are echoed by enquiries to Anaphylaxis UK support helpline, where parents frequently seek clarification about schools’ responsibilities to ensure their children are safe, supported, and included.
In response, the Benedict Blythe Foundation has been campaigning for the introduction of “Benedict’s Law” to ensure that pupils with allergies attend schools that are properly equipped to safeguard them. Benedict’s Law has three mandatory components: training for all school staff, a comprehensive allergy policy, and the availability of spare adrenaline auto-injectors in every school.
In February 2026, significant progress was made. In the same week that leading allergy organisations—including Anaphylaxis UK, Allergy UK, the British Society for Allergy and Clinical Immunology (BSACI), the Benedict Blythe Foundation, and National Allergy Strategy leads—met with Olivia Bailey, Minister for Early Education, to contribute to the review of the statutory guidance, an amendment to the Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill was passed by the House of Lords. This amendment confirmed that Benedict’s Law will be implemented in schools from September 2026 as part of the updated guidance.
This represents a historic step forward for children and young people with allergies. It will ensure they can learn in environments that are inclusive and safe, and that staff are properly trained to recognise and respond to allergic reactions and anaphylaxis without delay. Schools will be required to have the necessary medication on site, and staff will be empowered to act confidently and decisively in an emergency.
The updated guidance will be published for consultation by the DfE shortly. The National Allergy Strategy, the Benedict Blythe Foundation, and patient charities including Anaphylaxis UK will work closely with the DfE to provide schools with model policies and practical templates to support compliance with the new statutory requirements.
Schools are welcome to take action now to get ahead of the September 2026 requirements. By undertaking a whole-school allergy risk assessment, arranging staff training and subscribing to the education newsletter, schools can ensure they are fully prepared and compliant before the deadline. Early action will help to protect vulnerable pupils, demonstrate proactivity and give staff confidence in managing allergic emergencies.
Anaphylaxis UK has provided free or low-cost allergy and anaphylaxis training for over a decade, offering both e-learning and face-to-face options alongside a comprehensive suite of resources. Training is continually updated to reflect the latest clinical guidance, including the recent introduction of nasal adrenaline.
Please contact us at Anaphylaxis UK: allergywise@anaphylaxis.org.uk.
When 'Belonging' Replaces 'Equity': The Silence of White Male Educators

Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Across schools, colleges and trusts, a quiet linguistic shift has taken root. Many white male educators – often in leadership roles, often well-meaning – are talking less about diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) and more about belonging. At first, it sounds like progress. Who could possibly argue with belonging? It’s warm, inclusive, even healing.
But beneath that linguistic comfort lies something more complicated. When white male educators embrace “belonging” while sidestepping conversations about diversity, equity and inclusion, they risk participating in a subtle but powerful form of avoidance – one that centres comfort over accountability, and cohesion over justice.
The Appeal of ‘Belonging’
There’s no denying the emotional resonance of belonging. Everyone wants to feel seen, valued, and part of a community. The word signals care and connection – qualities deeply needed in our schools.
Yet belonging, in its current popular use, carries a kind of neutrality that makes it especially attractive to those uncomfortable with conversations about race, power, and privilege. It sounds universal and non-political. It doesn’t demand that we ask who has been excluded, whose histories have been erased, or whose comfort is prioritized.
For many white male educators, “belonging” feels like safer ground. It lets them express empathy without stepping into the uneasy territory of systemic inequity. It invites community-building without requiring structural change.
But that safety is precisely the problem.
What Gets Lost When We Skip DEI
Belonging, when untethered from the work of diversity, equity, and inclusion, risks becoming a hollow promise. It shifts the focus from systems to feelings – from justice to comfort.
- Diversity asks: Who is here? Who is missing?
- Equity asks: Who has access to opportunity and resources? Who are the gatekeepers?
- Inclusion asks: Whose voices shape our culture and decisions? Who is being silenced?
- Belonging, in its best form, should ask: How do we ensure everyone feels valued within equitable systems?
But too often, belonging is invoked instead of those questions, not because of them. It becomes a way to soothe rather than to solve – a way to look caring without confronting the root causes of exclusion.
In that sense, “belonging” can function as the linguistic comfort food of educational leadership: it fills us up emotionally but leaves the deeper hunger for justice untouched. In other words, it is a plaster on a problem, the problem just becomes hidden.
The Silence of Power
Language choices are never neutral, especially when made by those in positions of authority. White male educators still hold disproportionate power in most educational spaces – whether as principals, governors, professors, or thought leaders. Their voices shape what counts as acceptable discourse.
When those voices go quiet around diversity, equity, and inclusion, the silence speaks volumes. It signals to colleagues and students that DEI is passé, divisive, or optional. It allows institutions to drift away from equity work under the comforting banner of belonging.
And when belonging becomes the new vocabulary of leadership, it risks recentring white male experience – transforming a call for justice into a call for harmony, where discomfort is avoided rather than embraced as part of growth.
This silence doesn’t just maintain the status quo; it legitimises it. It says, “We care, but not enough to change.”
The Cost of Comfort
The consequences of this linguistic shift are real.
- DEI initiatives lose funding or visibility because “we’re focusing on belonging now.”
- Educators of colour are asked to “bring everyone together” instead of naming inequity.
- Students from marginalised backgrounds hear that they “belong,” but still experience microaggressions, biased pedagogy, and uneven discipline.
The rhetoric of belonging, when detached from diversity and equity, offers inclusion without transformation. It becomes a story we tell ourselves about progress, even as the systems of inequity remain intact.
True belonging is not created through slogans, surveys, or drop down days. It grows when power is redistributed, voices long ignored are amplified, and systems are redesigned to ensure fairness. Without that foundation, belonging is little more than an emotional gloss over structural inequity (or some pretty icing on some stale cake).
A Call Back to Courage
None of this is to say that belonging doesn’t matter. It matters deeply. But belonging must be built on top of equity, not in place of it.
White male educators, in particular, have a responsibility to stay in the discomfort – to speak not just about togetherness, but about justice. Silence is not neutrality; it is complicity. And shifting the language without shifting the practice is not progress – it’s retreat.
Belonging that is worth having will always be born from honesty, from the willingness to look directly at inequity and to act against it. It requires courage, humility, and a refusal to choose comfort over truth.
A Final Thought
If we are serious about belonging, then we must be serious about diversity, equity, and inclusion. Because real belonging does not come from soft language – it comes from hard work.
Belonging without equity is not inclusion.
It’s avoidance dressed as empathy.
The challenge for white male educators – and indeed, for all of us – is to ensure that our words do not outpace our courage.
Thus, we must become more conscious of who we are when we are doing DEIB work, we must be confident we are tackling problems and not causing further harm, we must be competent in navigating each layer of our workplace culture as belonging is only surfaced when diversity, equity and inclusion are established and embedded in the foundations.
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.
What Are You Actually Fighting For?

Written by Chloe Watterston
Chloe is an educator, athlete, and advocate for inclusive, curiosity-driven learning, dedicated to creating spaces where every young person feels safe, valued, and empowered. Her work across mainstream and SEND education, community projects, and curriculum reform is driven by a passion for amplifying marginalised voices and breaking down barriers to learning.
Closing Reflections on Anti-Racism in Education
For three articles, we have explored the urgency of anti-racism in education: racism as a safeguarding issue, the policy–practice disconnect, and the role of belonging and empathy in curriculum reform. Each piece has shared evidence, strategies, and practical steps for schools and teachers.
But sometimes data isn’t enough. Sometimes policy isn’t enough. Sometimes what we need is language that speaks not only to the head, but to the heart.
This final post in the series is not an essay. It is a poem. A truth-telling. A mirror held up to the contradictions of nationalism and the realities of Britain’s multicultural identity. It is a reminder of why anti-racism in the curriculum matters- not as an ‘add-on’, but as the honest story of who we are.
What are you actually fighting for?
(For the ones who carry the world in their veins – and make this island beat.)
What are you actually fighting for?
I mean-
have you stopped to taste the air you’re breathing?
That air laced with the spices from the corner shop down the road,
the samosa stand next to the bus stop,
the Portuguese bakery with custard tarts that taste like heaven on a tired Tuesday.
You yell about purity with a mouth that still carries
last night’s tikka masala.
And the flags-
Oh, the flags!
You wave them like swords,
St George’s cross stitched bold on cotton,
blood-red lines cutting through white.
But you forgot, didn’t you?
That St George wasn’t from here.
That the saint you scream under
was born somewhere foreign,
his story carried by traders and travellers
long before your postcode was drawn on a map.
Your symbol is a migrant.
Your flag is an immigrant.
But you raise it like a shield
against the very soil it grew from.
And the Union flag-
a stitched-together puzzle of histories,
threads from Scotland, Ireland, England,
woven into a single declaration:
We are many.
We are mixed.
We are made from meeting points,
from ports and ships and stories that came crashing in with the tide.
A union.
A blend.
A patchwork cloak.
You’ve wrapped it tight,
but you’re choking on the irony.
What are you actually fighting for?
Because from here, it looks like fear
dressed up in patriotism,
looks like rage you can’t name,
painted on banners you don’t understand.
Your voice is loud,
but your knowledge is quiet.
History echoes,
and you drown it out with chants
that sound more like hollow drums than truth.
Meanwhile-
your lunch is an onion bhaji,
grease soaking through the paper bag,
and when you stumble home tonight,
you’ll flick through menus like passports:
Chinese, Indian, Thai,
a taste of somewhere else in every bite.
Your belly says yes
to the world you say no to.
It’s easy, isn’t it,
to hate what you don’t know,
but love it on a plate?
To fear what you can’t pronounce,
but crave it for dinner?
Your fork is braver than your heart.
Your stomach more open than your mind.
We see you,
draped in cotton stitched overseas,
trainers made in Vietnam,
phone built from hands in factories
that have never felt British soil,
but hold your future tighter than you do.
You call this pride.
But we call it forgetting.
Forgetting that this island
is a mosaic of footsteps,
a patchwork of prayers,
a hand-me-down jacket
from centuries of travellers.
You wear history
like a blindfold.
What are you actually fighting for?
A myth?
A memory that never belonged to you?
An idea of “pure”
that never existed?
Even the soil beneath you
was shaped by glaciers that wandered here
from somewhere else.
We are a nation
built by boats and borders crossed,
by accents and spices,
by stories sewn into every street sign.
We are not a closed book.
We are an anthology.
And you’re standing in the middle of it
with a marker,
trying to black out pages
that taught you how to read.
So, here’s my truth:
No flag can save you from yourself.
You can clutch it, wave it,
let it snap and crack in the wind
like an angry tongue,
but it will not make you right.
Because that red cross you worship
was carried here by immigrants,
and the jack you wear like armour
is stitched together from difference,
not division.
So we ask you again:
What are you actually fighting for?
Because this island was never yours to guard- it was always ours to share.
And no matter how high you raise that flag,
it cannot erase the taste of curry on your breath,
the Cantonese whispers in your takeaway,
the Portuguese custard on your tongue,
the Turkish barber shaping your hair,
the Nigerian nurse who will hold your hand when you’re old and afraid.
This is Britain.
Not the fantasy you’re screaming for,
but the truth you’re standing on.
A country made rich by every hand that built it.
A song of accents rising through city streets.
An anthem of:
borrowed flavours- jerk chicken and jollof, shawarma, sushi, samosas and sourdough, pho, peri-peri, and pints of chai;
borrowed words- bungalow, ketchup, robot, shampoo, khaki, curry, chocolate, chaos, pyjamas;
borrowed technologies- printing presses, steam engines, satellites, trains that run on rails laid by migrant hands;
borrowed clothing- saris and suits, turbans and trainers, jeans born in Italy, stitched in Bangladesh;
borrowed rhythms- jazz and jungle, bhangra beats and punk guitar, Afrobeats shaking London basements;
borrowed stories – sagas, scriptures, epics, and myths ferried here on waves and winds;
borrowed inventions – recipes, languages stitched together like patchwork quilts, passports of possibility, hand-me-down hope,
and second chances.
Lower your flag.
Take a seat.
Hear the harmony in your own history-
This isn’t a solo,
it is a symphony.
And know this:
the strongest nations are not guarded by gates,
but opened by arms.
—-
The poem above speaks directly to the myths we tell ourselves as a nation. It exposes the irony of waving a flag stitched together from migration, while demanding purity that never existed. It challenges us to look honestly at the mosaic of influences – food, music, language, technology, healthcare, labour – that make Britain what it is.
This isn’t just a political reflection. It’s an educational one. When schools shy away from teaching the truth, when they reduce Black history to a week in October, when they treat diversity as tokenism rather than truth- they do children a profound disservice. They deny them the tools of empathy, the skills of critical thinking, and the pride of belonging.
Anti-racism in the curriculum is not about ‘teaching politics’. It’s about teaching reality. It’s about ensuring that when children open a textbook, they see the world as it is: interconnected, complex, and beautiful in its diversity.
Final Messages
- Curriculum is a mirror, a window, and a door. Children must see themselves reflected, see others clearly, and step into unfamiliar worlds with curiosity rather than fear.
- Representation is accuracy. Britain’s history is not monocultural. It is centuries of migration, invention, and exchange. To hide that truth is to teach falsehood.
- Empathy is not optional. It is a skill, and like literacy or numeracy, it must be taught, practised, and embedded.
- Belonging is safeguarding. A child who feels invisible, erased, or unsafe is not protected. Anti-racism is child protection.
Every chant in the street, every flag raised in anger, every online echo of hate is a reminder: education is where we break these cycles or allow them to continue. If we fail to tell the truth in classrooms, we leave children vulnerable to lies outside them.
This reminder is a call to remember that Britain has never been a closed island. It is, and always has been, a crossroads. A patchwork. A symphony. The curriculum must reflect that, not as a concession, but as the truth.
