This is going to be an unusually personal and frank blog post, but one I really needed to write. It comes after a week that has been terrible for Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) and social justice, particularly in the USA.

It has been a real week of contrasts for me. I attended a brilliant webinar “Anti-Racist leadership from the top: University executives challenging the status quo” where a panel of Black, Asian and Mixed Ethnicity senior university leaders challenged the audience to be better, to do more and to not accept mediocre efforts to achieve racial justice in HE. Thought provoking, hard-hitting but ultimately inspiring and empowering.

Immediately after leaving that webinar, I saw the horrific news of the appropriation of an aviation disaster by President Trump, who directly blamed it on Diversity, Equality and Inclusion (DEI). The disrespect to the lives lost, and the completely evidence-free assumption that DEI was responsible was shocking. And let’s be clear – he wasn’t blaming DEI. He was blaming women, disabled people, LGBTQIA+ and racially minoritised individuals and communities. This was on top of a week where the Trump administration has directly dismantled DEI work through executive order and federal funding freezes. Grim, and very scary for many many people.

Personally, the complete polarisation of these two incidents within one afternoon was shocking. To be filled with optimism and empowerment about how we can be better, to have it crushed with a sense of awfulness within minutes was really jarring and disorienting.

However they are two sides of the same coin. Values of inclusion and respect and any commitment to equity are directly under political attack in a way we cannot hide from, and in a way that is causing real harm. That that challenge to be more courageous is more important than it ever has been.

Reflections on my own lack of courage

I’ve been trying to understand why I haven’t been braver and bolder in this space. Why haven’t I used my platform more? Why am I reluctant to share my anger, despair and frustration with issues I care about in a more public way? What is holding me back?

I think part of the issue is about not feeling it is appropriate to mix the personal, professional and political. I hate that EDI is political. It shouldn’t be political. It should be something that everyone automatically values and embeds into their daily lives.

But EDI is political. It always has been, and the rights and freedoms that we value have been hard fought for. Courageous individuals have fought with their bodies, hearts, minds and souls. Fought against social, political and economic systems deigned to maintain the status quo and keep power in the hands of a small elite minority.

Adopting an activist position doesn’t sit easily with me. I was raised in a household with liberal values, where kindness and respect were central to our upbringing. But this was in a quiet way, not through loud or public action. While we have political discussions and I have a pretty good idea how my parents vote, I don’t think they have ever openly stated their political choices. My dad took us to polling stations from quite an early age, and certainly instilled a deep sense of respect for the ‘democratic power of the pencil’ in UK voting, but he didn’t let us see who he voted for. I don’t know if my parents ever write to their members of parliament (MPs) or engage in any other form of political activity beyond voting, but if they do they wouldn’t share it with us. We certainly never went on protests or participated in civil engagement activities. I didn’t get involved in political campaigns as a student. While I have voted at every single UK election since I was 18, I haven’t campaigned or lobbied or made any political noise.

While I have had strong political opinions, those have mostly been private. This is perhaps the influence of my dad. He trained as a civil servant, and always centred professional political impartiality rather than party politics. In his professional life he has worked with multiple governments, and I know has influenced policy to the benefit of many who needed it. His approach was to work within official processes to make change, which I have certainly internalised and mirrored in my own work.

I have been a little more outwardly facing in my politics in recent years. I have written to my MP, I have been to a couple of protests. I did coordinate a letter signed to the UK Government last year standing up for EDI in STEM, signed by over 2000 people. I’m not sure it had any impact, but was perhaps the first time I actually used my voice publicly.

Recognising the limitations of the EDI work I have done

Those familiar with my work might be surprised that I am being so candid about my shortcomings in this area. I have written about equity, abelism, decolonisation and the need for systemic change, particularly in the UK HE and bioscience context. A couple of years ago I made a personal commitment to always co-author papers with a student and/or a collaborator from a marginalised background. I’ve organised symposia focussing on EDI issues in my discipline. I have worked with colleagues to address inequity in student outcomes. I have authored an inclusive education framework that is being used in multiple UK universities. I list these not to brag but to make it clear that, on the surface at least, it looks like I’m doing my bit.

But while I’m proud of much of this work and I hope it has made a difference, let’s not pretend that this hasn’t also been to my personal benefit. I have sufficient academic privilege that means I can do this work with little personal or professional risk. It doesn’t get me labelled as ‘difficult’ or a ‘trouble maker’, in contrast to far too many academic women of colour who are particularly disadvantaged and discriminated against in academia. In fact the opposite is true. Publications, citations and meeting reports directly benefit my career and reputation. I’m doing nothing to challenge flawed hierarchical academic conventions and formats of knowledge dissemination; I’m using them for my own personal gain. Most of this work is never going to be read outside academia. I personally need to grapple with how much of this activity actually makes an impact for those who need it, and how much is ultimately just virtue signalling.

I need to do more that has real world impact. To champion those who are marginalised with academia and beyond. To make structural change. To be vocal and unapologetic about the importance of this work. To have more courage. I am now in an educational leadership role where I have power and influence, and starting today I am going to be bolder.

Some acknowledgements and apologies

In the mean time, some important acknowledgments. To all of my US based colleagues who are seeing essential EDI work violently dismantled overnight, I can only imagine how traumatic that is. You have my deepest support, and if there are practical things that can be done from afar please reach out. This time will pass, and we will keep the EDI torch burning bright in the meantime.

To of my colleagues internationally who have been warning us for years how fragile democracy and civil rights can be – I’m sorry. Your perspectives have been devalued and ignored, as yet another example of Western bias. I haven’t engaged in global conversations enough, and I need to address that bias in my own work.

To all who have expected or needed me to better – I’m sorry. Sorry for the times I wasn’t braver. When I focussed on data instead of action. When I let conversations be derailed by ‘but what about…’. When I took my eye off the ball, or even took the choice not to get involved when I could have done. When I didn’t use my own privileged voice to fight for you. I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to write this, or to stand up and fight. I make a commitment to you to turn this personal reflection into meaningful action. I will find that courage. I will lead change.