AI IS NOT NEUTRAL: Why DEIB, Belonging, and Responsible AI Must Shape the Future of Education and Work
Written by Paulette Watson MBE
Paulette Watson MBE is an award-winning CEO, international speaker, and thought leader in AI, STEM, digital transformation, and inclusive innovation. As Founder and CEO of Academy Achievers, she leads the global #BeMeDigitalInclusion initiative, empowering women and girls, particularly from underrepresented communities, to access opportunities in AI, cloud, cybersecurity, emerging technologies, and the future of work.
“A child could be excluded from opportunity before a teacher even notices — not because of ability, but because an algorithm decided what potential looked like.”
Introduction
Artificial Intelligence is rapidly reshaping education, recruitment, safeguarding, leadership, and the future of work. Every week brings a new tool, a new pilot, a new promise. But while organisations race to adopt AI, a far more urgent question is being left on the table:
Who gets to belong in the future being built?
As the author of She Disrupts: A Black Woman’s Journey in STEM and AI Industries, and through my global work leading #BeMeDigitalInclusion across the UK, Africa, and international networks, I have spent years advocating for equitable pathways into technology, responsible AI adoption, workforce transformation, and inclusive digital futures.
What concerns me most is not AI itself. It is the very real possibility that we automate exclusion at scale and call it progress.
Because AI is not neutral. It reflects the data it is trained on, the systems it learns from, the assumptions embedded within it, and the people who build it. Bias is not removed through automation. Too often, it is amplified.
Leadership Without AI Literacy Is Becoming a Strategic Risk
As a Black woman working across governance, education, digital transformation, and emerging technologies, I have often found myself sitting in rooms where I was both the only Black woman and one of the only people deeply focused on the long-term implications of technology.
I remember completing my Master’s in ICT in 2005, when conversations about automation, digital systems, AI, and emerging technologies were already evolving rapidly. I later completed my MBA in 2008, continuing to explore how technology, leadership, governance, and organisational strategy intersect.
What struck me then, and still concerns me deeply now in 2026, was how many senior leaders responsible for shaping education, workforce systems, safeguarding, governance,
and organisational strategy had little understanding of emerging technologies and their societal impact.
Fast forward almost two decades, and in many spaces, that gap still exists.
The technology has accelerated. So have the risks and the pace of adoption. The risks have accelerated.
The pace of adoption has accelerated.
But leadership understanding has not kept pace.
Too often, AI conversations are delegated entirely to technical teams while boards, governors, executives, and decision-makers remain disconnected from the realities of algorithmic bias, automated decision-making, accessibility, workforce displacement, safeguarding implications, and inclusion.
That disconnect creates operational, ethical, reputational, and human risk. The Belonging Question
One of the most overlooked conversations in AI is belonging. Not representation alone. Belonging.
Belonging is not simply whether someone is invited into the room.
It is whether they can see themselves in the future being built around them.
Through #BeMeDigitalInclusion, I have worked with young girls, Black students, neurodiverse learners, disabled professionals, career changers, educators, and underserved communities who are incredibly capable, creative, and innovative, yet too many quietly disengage because systems subtly communicate:
“This space was not designed with you in mind.”
As someone who is dyslexic, I understand personally how dangerous it is when systems confuse difference with deficit.
Now imagine those same inequalities becoming embedded inside AI systems that shape educational pathways, recruitment, safeguarding, progression, and access to opportunity.
Case Studies in Automated Exclusion
Case Study 1: AI Detecting “High Potential”, But Missing SEND Learners
AI-powered analytics tools are increasingly used to identify “high potential” students, predict attainment, and map intervention pathways. Yet many systems are trained on narrow historical patterns that fail to account for neurodiversity, accessibility needs, trauma, and alternative learning styles.
Through #BeMeDigitalInclusion, I have met young people whose brilliance sits outside traditional systems. If AI only recognises one type of learner, countless young people risk being overlooked before they even have the opportunity to thrive.
Case Study 2: Predictive Behaviour Systems & Black Boys
Research has repeatedly shown that Black boys are disproportionately monitored and excluded from educational systems. If biased historical data feeds predictive AI systems, those inequalities risk becoming digitally reinforced.
Technology should never become a faster route to stereotyping. Yet without intentional governance, inclusive leadership, and bias mitigation, that is exactly what can happen.
Case Study 3: AI Recruitment & Non-Traditional Career Paths
AI-driven recruitment systems often favour traditional career trajectories, elite institutions, and linear progression. But what happens to career changers, mothers returning to work, disabled professionals, self-taught technologists, and community leaders?
They risk becoming invisible, not because of what they lack, but because of what the system was never taught to value.
This matters profoundly in AI itself, where diversity is already critically lacking. The Human Premium
Headlines predict that AI will replace humans. I believe something more nuanced and more urgent is happening.
Human skills are becoming premium.
As automation increases, the value of empathy, ethical judgement, critical thinking, communication, creativity, adaptability, collaboration, cultural intelligence, and leadership will rise significantly.
These are not soft skills.
They are leadership skills.
They are future workforce skills.
And they are the very capabilities that AI cannot replicate.
The future workforce advantage will not belong solely to those who can code.
It will belong to those who can lead humans through complexity, ambiguity, ethics, trust, and change.
AI Literacy Must Become a Human Right
One of the greatest risks emerging now is the unequal distribution of AI literacy.
Too many people are being expected to navigate systems they do not fully understand. Too many children are having decisions made about them by algorithms that their parents, teachers, governors, and leaders have never questioned.
AI literacy cannot become a privilege reserved for technology professionals or elite institutions.
It must become accessible to:
- Teachers
- Parents
- Governors
- Students
- Executives
- Policymakers
- Community leaders
People deserve to understand how algorithms shape decisions, how bias operates, how data is used, and how to participate safely and critically in AI-enabled environments.
Responsible AI Is Not Optional
Responsible AI cannot exist in isolation from diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging.
They are not parallel conversations.
They are the same essential conversation.
Safe and responsible AI requires:
- Inclusive governance
- Diverse leadership
- Accessible design
- Safeguarding
- Transparency
- Accountability
- Community voice
Without diversity at the centre of AI design and governance, AI risks reproducing inequality on an unprecedented scale.
And without belonging, entire communities may disengage from the very future being built around them.
The #BeMeDigitalInclusion Roundtable
These are exactly the conversations we will continue through the upcoming #BeMeDigitalInclusion Roundtable, where educators, policymakers, industry leaders, governance professionals, and communities will explore:
- Online safety
- Responsible AI
- Workforce transformation
- AI literacy
- Safeguarding
- Accessibility
- Inclusion
- Human skills are becoming premium in the AI era
Because diversity cannot be an afterthought in technological transformation. It must sit at the core, from the first line of code to the first leadership decision. What Educational Leaders Must Do, Right Now
- Build AI Literacy Across Entire School Communities
- Review AI Through a DEIB & Safeguarding Lens
- Include Diverse Voices in AI Decision-Making
- Priorities Human Skills
- Ensure Belonging Remains Visible
- Treat Responsible AI as a Governance Priority, Not Just a Technical One
Educational leaders must act now. Make AI literacy, DEIB, and responsible AI an immediate priority in every school and system. Engage diverse voices, review technology through ethical and safeguarding lenses, and champion human skills and belonging at all levels. Your leadership today will directly shape opportunity, trust, and belonging for generations.
Final Thought
AI will shape the future.
But inclusion will determine whether that future is equitable.
The question is no longer whether AI will transform education and work; it is whether it will.
It already is.
So ask yourself and your organisation: What steps will we take today to ensure everyone can belong in the future we are building?
And who will you include in that decision?
The future will not be defined by the intelligence of our machines alone, but by the courage of our leadership. Let us lead boldly and shape that future together.
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/
Maslow’s Hierarchy Was Never Just a Pyramid
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
Every educator has seen it. The pyramid – at the bottom sit physiological needs: food, water, shelter, sleep. Above that come safety, belonging, esteem, and finally – at the peak – self-actualisation.
For decades, Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has shaped educational thinking. It appears in teacher training, wellbeing frameworks, behaviour support models, and school leadership presentations around the world. The message is straightforward: children cannot learn effectively if their basic needs are unmet.
And that insight matters;
- Hungry children struggle to concentrate,
- Unsafe children struggle to trust,
- Disconnected children struggle to engage.
But there is a part of the story many educators have never been told.
Maslow’s ideas were influenced by time spent with the Blackfoot Confederacy in 1938, where he observed a society deeply grounded in community, belonging, collective responsibility, and cultural continuity. In later years, scholars and Indigenous educators have pointed to the similarities between Maslow’s developing ideas and Blackfoot understandings of human wellbeing.
What is especially interesting is that Maslow himself never actually drew the famous pyramid we all recognise today. The pyramid – with its upward climb toward individual success – became a Western interpretation of his theory. And perhaps in that interpretation, something important was lost because many Indigenous worldviews do not see human flourishing as an individual journey upward. They see it as relational.
The Problem With the Pyramid
The modern version of Maslow’s hierarchy is often presented as a ladder:
- First survival…
- Then safety…
- Then belonging…
- Then achievement.
Eventually, if all goes well, a person reaches self-actualisation – becoming the fullest version of themselves. But schools have absorbed this framework in ways that often reinforce individualism rather than connection.
Once students’ basic needs are acknowledged, education systems quickly shift focus toward:
- academic performance,
- achievement,
- productivity,
- competition,
- outcomes.
The underlying message becomes: Now that your needs are met, it is time to succeed.
Yet human wellbeing is not linear:
- Children can experience creativity while carrying trauma,
- Students can achieve highly while feeling lonely,
- Young people can comply academically while feeling culturally unseen.
Many First Nations perspectives understand wellbeing not as a hierarchy, but as an interconnected system of relationships – between self, community, identity, spirit, land, and purpose. Belonging is not a stage to move through. It is foundational.
What Indigenous Wisdom Offers Education
One of the most powerful distinctions in Indigenous understandings of wellbeing is the shift from individual fulfilment to collective flourishing.
In many Western systems, the highest goal is personal achievement:
- reaching your potential,
- standing out,
- becoming successful.
But Indigenous perspectives often place greater emphasis on:
- contribution,
- responsibility,
- kinship,
- cultural continuity,
- community wellbeing.
The question changes from: “How do I become my best self?”
To: “How do I strengthen the wellbeing of the community around me?”
That difference has profound implications for schools because schools frequently reward independence while undervaluing interconnectedness.
We celebrate high achievers, but often overlook:
- kindness,
- emotional safety,
- cultural identity,
- collaboration,
- service,
- belonging.
And yet these are the very things that allow human beings to flourish.
What Would Schools Look Like If We Truly Understood This?
If schools genuinely embraced a more holistic understanding of human needs, education might begin to look very different.
We might prioritise:
- relationships before results,
- connection before compliance,
- identity before standardisation,
- wellbeing before performance.
Students would not simply be prepared for exams or careers – they would be prepared for life in community.
Teachers would spend less time asking: “How do we improve outcomes?”
And more time asking: “Do our students feel seen, safe, valued, and connected?”
Because children learn best when they experience belonging.
Not performative belonging…Not tokenistic inclusion…Real belonging.
The kind that says: “You matter here.”
Beyond Achievement
Many schools today are facing rising levels of anxiety, disengagement, loneliness, and behavioural complexity among young people.
We often respond with interventions, data tracking, wellbeing programs, and behaviour systems, but perhaps part of the deeper issue is that modern education has become disconnected from fundamental human needs.
Not just physical needs – but emotional, relational, cultural, and spiritual ones too. The Indigenous perspectives that influenced Maslow remind us that wellbeing cannot be separated from connection.
A child’s sense of identity matters…Community matters…Purpose matters…Relationship matters…And perhaps the greatest misunderstanding of the pyramid is that human flourishing was never meant to be a solo climb to the top.
A Different Vision for Education
What if success in schools was measured not only by grades, but by:
- empathy,
- contribution,
- resilience,
- belonging,
- cultural strength,
- and the ability to care for others?
What if education was not simply about producing successful individuals, but nurturing connected human beings?
Long before modern psychology attempted to define human motivation, First Nations peoples already understood something essential: people thrive through relationships and belonging to a community.
Perhaps schools have been looking at the pyramid for so long that we forgot to look around us. So perhaps the future of education depends not on climbing higher, but on reconnecting more deeply – to ourselves, to each other, and to community.
School is so gay
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.
I remember seeing bullying when I was at school. I remember the names, the laughter, and the way certain words landed harder than others. I also remember how normal it all felt at the time, not because it was harmless, but because nobody really stopped it.
Years later, when I became a teacher, I genuinely believed things would be different. Society had moved on, language had evolved, and schools were far more aware of safeguarding and wellbeing. But standing in classrooms and corridors, I found myself hearing the same phrases, watching the same patterns, and feeling the same familiar knot in my stomach.
What devastated me most was not just that bullying still existed. It was how often it was excused.
“That’s so gay.”
“They don’t mean it like that.”
“It’s just a saying.”
“There are bigger issues we need to focus on.”
I heard these comments repeatedly. Sometimes from pupils, but far more painfully from adults.
For LGBTQ+ people, language like this is never neutral. It carries weight, history, and memory. When a word connected to who you are is used as shorthand for something negative, it teaches you very early on that your identity is something to be laughed at, minimised, or ignored.
As a pupil, that message hurts deeply.
As a teacher, watching it be passed on to another generation is crushing.
Over time, I became increasingly frustrated by the idea that tackling homophobia was somehow an “extra”. Something to get to if there was time. Something that sat below academic outcomes, behaviour targets, or inspection priorities. I watched schools work tirelessly on countless tick-box initiatives, yet hesitate when it came to properly challenging harmful language, often out of fear of backlash or because it was seen as controversial.
But bullying linked to sexuality or gender identity is not less serious because it is verbal. It is not less damaging because it is common. And it is not less urgent because some people are uncomfortable talking about it.
I reached a point where I could no longer accept that this was just how things were. Leaving teaching was not an easy decision, but it became a necessary one. I set up More Than Flags and Rainbows because I wanted to challenge the idea that inclusion is optional and that addressing homophobia is somehow a distraction from “real” education. It is not. It is central to it.
I have worked with children who learned to make themselves smaller to feel safe. I have listened to young people who stayed silent because drawing attention to themselves felt dangerous. I have seen how unchecked language creates cultures where exclusion becomes normal and cruelty becomes background noise.
This work matters because words shape environments. When harmful language goes unchallenged, it sends a clear message about whose feelings matter and whose do not. When schools, and wider society, treat this as a low priority, LGBTQ+ young people pay the price.
This is not abstract to me. It is personal. I have lived it, witnessed it, and ultimately walked away from a career I loved in order to keep challenging it in a different way. And I believe deeply that when we stop making excuses for harm, we create spaces where young people do not just survive, but belong.
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.
Everyday Sexism: A Powerful Call to Action from Laura Bates - What Schools Can No Longer Ignore
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
When Laura Bates, founder of the Everyday Sexism Project, addressed the room of boarding school headteachers and senior leaders, her message was not abstract, ideological, or optional. It was urgent, and it was evidence-based.
Drawing on what is now one of the largest datasets of its kind – over 250,000 testimonies, many from children – Bates laid out a reality that schools are already part of, whether they recognise it or not.
This Is Not a “Girls’ Issue”
One of the clearest points: sexism is not about being “anti-boys.” It is instead about the ecosystem young people are growing up in. Rigid gender stereotypes harm everyone – shaping body image pressures for both girls and boys, narrowing subject choices, and reinforcing harmful expectations about relationships, power, and identity.
The idea of a “gender war” or “battle of the sexes” is not only misleading, it actively prevents progress. Instead, Bates reframed the issue: this is about culture, not conflict.
The Scale and Subtlety of the Problem
Some statistics that she shared were stark and made me feel really uncomfortable, despite being familiar with most of them:
- 86% of women in the UK report experiencing sexual harassment
- 72% of women report sexism in the classroom
- 71% of 16-year-old girls report being called “slut” or “slag” on a weekly basis
But just as important is what Bates called “subtle sexism.”
This is the quiet shaping of expectations:
- which subjects feel “appropriate”
- how physical spaces exclude women and girls
- whose voices are taken seriously
- how authority – especially female authority – is undermined
These are not isolated incidents: they are cumulative; they are structured; they are reinforced through media, advertising, peer culture, and increasingly, algorithms.
Language Matters More Than We Admit
The distinction between “groping” and “sexual harassment” is not semantic – it is cultural. So too is the shift from focusing on victims to naming perpetrators, and from passive bystanders to active upstanders. Language shapes what young people think is normal, tolerable, or reportable. If we minimise behaviours in how we speak about them, we normalise them in practice.
As a former English teacher, and now DEIB trainer, the power of language and our language choices are something I think about a lot and explore with our clients regularly.
The Online World Is Not Separate From School
A major theme was the widening gap between adults and young people in digital spaces. Most educators and parents are not digital natives. Yet, their students and their children are.
This gap matters because the online environment is not neutral – it is actively shaping attitudes:
- Influencers like Andrew Tate have amassed billions of views
- Algorithmic pathways can lead users toward extreme misogynistic content in minutes
- Exposure to pornography is now commonly reported around age 13
Bates referenced the “manosphere” – a network of online communities where ideas such as “AWALT” (“all women are like this”) circulate and harden. This is not fringe content. It is mainstream, accessible, and often gamified.
A New Frontier: AI and Exploitation
If that was not enough for us to deal with in our schools and in our homes, then the emerging technologies that are accelerating the problem are the next challenge we face:
- Deepfake and “nudify” tools enabling new forms of abuse
- AI “girlfriends” reshaping expectations of relationships
- Gamified, exploitative systems rewarding harmful behaviour
- Poorly regulated virtual spaces (including metaverses) lacking safeguarding measures
The direction of travel is clear and really concerning. I am conscious that I am not a parent, I am no longer a headteacher and I have recently stood down from being a trustee who led on safeguarding, but I care deeply about our sector, about our society and about our young people. So sitting in a room of school leaders I felt the palpable weight of responsibility on their shoulders as they began to process the enormity of what is rapidly attacking our schools and our homes.
The Youngest Are Most at Risk
Perhaps the most sobering insight: the youngest generation is not the most protected – it is the most exposed. Grooming, radicalisation, and exploitation are no longer rare nor exceptional risks. They are structural features of the environments young people inhabit – and schools sit at the intersection of all of this.
So What Can Schools Do?
Bates did not leave the room without direction but offered some practical advice and signposting.
Effective responses are not one-off assemblies or reactive policies. They are cultural and sustained:
- Start early: challenge gender stereotypes in early childhood
- Explore openly: normalise discussion of relationships, consent, and respect
- Intervene consistently: address language, behaviour, and culture in real time
- Encourage allyship: shift from bystanders to upstanders
- Support staff: particularly where female authority is undermined
- Involve parents: bridging the digital knowledge gap is essential
This is where she signposted organisations such as Tender, Lifting Limits, Beyond Equality, and Bold Voices are already doing critical work alongside schools.
A Cultural Shift, Not a Checklist
Perhaps the most important takeaway is this: sexism does not operate in a vacuum. It is built on foundations – early stereotypes, repeated messages, normalised behaviours.
Which means the solution is not a single intervention, but a process of deconstruction:
- recognising the patterns
- naming them
- and creating genuine alternatives for young people
This is not about removing choice – it is about creating it.
The Question That Remains
Bates left the audience with an implicit challenge to consider: not whether schools should respond – but whether they are prepared for what is already here, and what is coming next. She held up a mirror to remind us that the culture shaping young people today is moving faster than most institutions, so ignoring it is no longer a neutral act.
BSA – thanks for creating the space at the annual conference for this talk (and Gaelle thanks for the invitation to be in the room). Laura – thanks for the clarity and the data that you brought to the conversation.
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?
Empathy Week 2026: My Culture, Your Culture, Our Culture
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder and Director of the Belonging Effect (formerly Diverse Educators).
My Culture, Your Culture, Our Culture
Culture is more than traditions, food, language, or clothing. It is the story of who we are and where we come from. It shapes our values, our beliefs, the way we see the world, and how we connect with others. During Empathy Week, the theme “My culture, your culture, our culture” reminds us that understanding culture is not just about learning facts – it is about learning empathy.
Celebrating Your Own Culture
Celebrating your own culture is important because it helps you understand yourself. Your culture carries the experiences of your family, ancestors, and community. It gives you a sense of identity and belonging. When you recognise and value your culture, you gain confidence in who you are and where you come from.
For many people, culture is also a source of strength. Traditions, celebrations, and shared values can provide comfort during difficult times and joy during happy ones. They remind us that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. When we celebrate our culture, we honour the sacrifices, struggles, and achievements of those who came before us.
Celebrating your own culture also helps prevent it from being forgotten. In a fast-changing world, traditions and languages can easily fade away. By sharing stories, practising customs, and passing them on to younger generations, we keep culture alive. This is especially important for cultures that have been marginalised or misunderstood. Pride in one’s culture can be a powerful act of resilience.
Celebrating Other People’s Cultures
While celebrating your own culture helps you understand yourself, celebrating other people’s cultures helps you understand the world. Every culture has its own history, values, and ways of expressing meaning. When we take the time to learn about them, we broaden our perspectives.
Celebrating other cultures builds empathy. It allows us to step outside our own experiences and see life through someone else’s eyes. This understanding reduces stereotypes, fear, and prejudice. Instead of focusing on differences as barriers, we begin to see them as opportunities to learn.
Respecting and celebrating other cultures also creates more inclusive communities. When people feel that their culture is acknowledged and valued, they feel seen and accepted. This sense of belonging strengthens relationships and encourages cooperation. It reminds us that diversity is not a weakness but a strength.
Our Shared Culture
When we celebrate both our own culture and the cultures of others, we begin to create our culture – a shared space built on respect, curiosity, and understanding. This shared culture does not erase individual identities. Instead, it connects them.
“Our culture” is found in moments of listening, sharing, and standing up for one another. It is present when we celebrate cultural festivals together, learn new languages or traditions, and challenge discrimination. It is built when we choose kindness over judgement and curiosity over assumptions.
In a globalised world, our lives are increasingly connected. Schools, workplaces, and communities are made up of people from many different backgrounds. Learning to appreciate both our differences and our similarities helps us live together more peacefully and respectfully.
Why It Matters
Celebrating culture – your own and others’ – is important because it builds empathy. Empathy allows us to understand feelings, experiences, and perspectives that are different from our own. It encourages compassion and reminds us of our shared humanity.
When we value culture, we value people. And when we value people, we create a world that is more inclusive, respectful, and kind.
Empathy Week reminds us that while we may come from different cultures, we all share the same need to be understood, respected, and accepted. By celebrating my culture, your culture, and our culture, we take a step closer to a more empathetic world.
Find out more and register your school to be part of Empathy Week 2026 here.
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.