Author: admin

The last few weeks have seen a massive debate on social media about the significance of race in certain institutions. It began with a photo campaign highlighting the voices and faces of black students from the University of Harvard. These students had come to believe that their voices often went unheard on their campus, their experiences were devalued and their presence was constantly questioned. As a result, the picture campaign was a way of voicing out to say: “We are here. This place is ours too.” 


This campaign crossed over to the other side of the Atlantic and students of colour from Oxford, Cambridge and the University of Nottingham followed suit. It has resonated with several people across the world who have experienced prejudice in one way or the other. 




I’m part of the Senior Management Team for Youth Charity Elevation Networks. Our mission is to develop the skills of young people, by partnering with outstanding employers to create diverse career opportunities. With our unwavering interest in diversity, particularly around BAME engagement, we run an annual campaign – the Great Debate Tour- which is UK’s largest University Debate Tour targeting BAME students. Over the last 2 years we have engaged over 10,000 young people through this. This serves as an avenue for students to discuss social and political issues that affect them. Last year, for example, we explored the topics like integration and immigration. It has been widely observed that ethnic minority members of the UK population are less likely to vote, and less likely to be active within areas of public life. In addition to this, particular segments of the ethnic minority population are disproportionately unemployed and engaged in the criminal justice system. We believe that to change the current negative stereotypes and outcomes, the next generation of leaders must be inspired to get actively involved in matters that are closest to their communities. As Gandhi said, one must be the change that they wish to see. The Great Debate Tour seeks to use debates to start conversations and create awareness about issues. In the end, young people’s voices are heard in a truly dynamic way, and new insight is provided to all through mass discussion.

Taking this into consideration, I find the picture campaign at Harvard University extremely poignant. It has inspired people across the world to challenge issues that may have been accepted as the norm. The norm is not usually the truth and it is perfectly fine for anyone to challenge them when need be. A few weeks ago the leader of the British National Party, Nick Griffin tweeted “Lenny Henry wanted more black people on TV. So they put on Crimewatch”. I was intrigued by two things: Firstly, Mr. Griffin’s bravery to make such a statement. Secondly, the lack of backlash concerning the tweet from the public, major news channels or websites. I strongly believe that we have become so desentized to episodes like this occurring from Mr Griffin, and so we turn a blind eye to them every time. Why should we? Just because we expect it does not mean we should accept it.

It is important to acknowledge that the UK is now representative of many cultures and nationalities. An academic report by Professor David Coleman has found that the UK will be the West’s most ethnically diverse nation after 2050 and by 2066, white Britons will be the minority. However, the truth of the matter is that this has not been reflected in many of our leading institutions from Russell group Universities, to blue chip companies. Over the past 20 years the rise in number of MPs from BAME backgrounds has been disproportionate to the increase in the wider UK population. Looking at the European Parliament, the UK only has 4 BAME representatives out of 78. Diversity cannot be championed through lip service – it needs to be championed in practice.

Amongst other inequalities, ethnic minorities have not had fair access to viable finance through Britian’s banking system – something Deputy Prime minister Nick Clegg announced needed to change some time last year. Working with the governments Department for Business, Innovation and Skills, at EN we have run a campaign that has helped over 600 people over the last year set up their own business, through providing low interest loans, hence combating the issue. Over 70% of the entrepreneurs we have supported are BAME. This is because we have been very deliberate in approaching areas and communities that may have been traditionally neglected. Successfully addressing issues like this will not only improve the lives of ethnic minorities in the UK, but it will also grow the UK economy.

People who have gone down in history as greats have decided to challenge the status-quo: whether it was Martin Luther King in America, Nelson Mandela in South Africa or Doreen Lawrence in the United Kingdom. Once upon a time, explicit racial injustice was entrenched (and to an extent still is, in a subtle way) into authoritative institutions across the world, and these leaders were relentless and willing to put their lives and reputations on the line to contest this.

We need more people like these leaders and not necessarily on a large scale. We can make an active attempt to challenge injustice wherever you are, with whatever we have in the best way we know how. Each individual effort will collectively result in the change that we desire. Whether you correct your child for having prejudice views, you start a race awareness campaign on your university campus or you aim to tackle the lack of diversity in the workplace, you are all contributing to a significant cause. I agree, the issue of diversity and prejudice will not be completely eradicated however we would have started a worthy battle against general perceptions and norms.

Certainly, if you are not part of the solution, you are definitely part of the problem and taking action is the biggest stage you could ever have for your voice to be heard.

Elorm Haligah

@SirElormH

@elevationetwork

As the sun beats down on London Fields and the trees cast leafy shadows, my daughter and I discover a park where every child is joyfully occupied by the wonder and mania of play. Kids fly and flutter in bright eyed swarms and the sense of excitement is so infectious that my little girl screams and bolts away from me, falling in with the pack. Even from the side lines I feel an urge to join them, to swing as high as the branches or throw myself at the hurtling roundabout with a fearless sense of abandon. But I’m an adult, a mummy and it’s not my time, so I linger in the shade and watch the wildness spread until it encompasses every child. The simplicity of this unity is both powerful and touching. I’m all for championing diversity, flagging up our differences and celebrating them with aplomb, but it’s lovely to be reminded that inclusion in its purest form is just about getting along with each other, in a way that’s not selective. In this inner-city playground where the average age is six, any defining labels a child might carry, have lost their significance in the wake of riotous fun.

I pull the packed roundabout to a halt so my daughter can clamber on and as it swings away, a small girl catches sight of me and starts to scream, “her arm’s missing, I don’t like it.” She yells and at once every bright eye fixes me in a swirling rainbow of irises. I’m not surprised by this reaction. I’ve had one hand all my life and it’s not something that fazes me, because what you must remember is, I was six once too and I was a delicate, imaginative blue-eyed girl, who dreamed of becoming a mermaid. My mum couldn’t keep flowers in the house, because I cried when ever they died. When the horse vanished beneath the quicksand in The Never Ending Story, I screamed so much we had to turn it off. But when it came to my arm I was untouchable, I waved peoples questions away as if they were spring butterflies and happily called out from the top of the slide “I was born like it”. That was the answer they got, no long description, no discussion, no explanation, but an offer of friendship and maybe some chips. I had no idea of the capacity of my own resilience, because it didn’t feel as if I was being resilient, it simply felt like life. People asked me questions, I called out answers, then we made friends and the world swung on. But now that I’m an adult even in a park in Hackney, an area that does diversity with a whole-hearted magnificence, it’s apparent that disability is the last difference to truly be embraced.

This is the main reason I decided to write a play about a little girl who has one hand. Not to exercise my ambitions in a way that’s cathartic or answers the questions of every child in that park, but to engage with a young audience and show them the many similarities that all children share. Libby, the little girl in the play, is as charming as she is difficult and though her circumstances are particular to her impairment: to realise her dream of becoming a ballerina she must learn to use a prosthetic arm, like most six year olds, she won’t be limited by anyone else’s boundaries and at the heart of it, is a wilful little girl who wants her own way. There isn’t a child on the planet who doesn’t know what that feels like! The wonderful thing about a young audience is that if you connect with them in a way that’s authentic and interactive you’ll keep them on your side and they’ll be happy to follow into a magical land where toys can talk and children can dream.

Before I can answer the little girl in the park, a single voice pipes up and takes everyone by surprise, “that girl with one hand is my mum.” Loud gasps and the bright eyes focus sharply on my daughter. I want to protect her but before I can act, another child recognises me and a whispering murmur arises as they try to ascertain if this tired, make-up free woman is the same person who bounces around their T.V screens. My daughter sits up straight, one hand on the bar of the roundabout, the other gently pointing toward me, her wrist turned up to the sky, “she’s on T.V, she was born with one hand and she’s my mummy.” My heart is suddenly in my mouth she didn’t need me at all, she was happy to bat away the questions like butterflies. Happy to be resilient in a way that’s so gentle it’s astonishing. The roundabout disbands and the kids shower me with questions about my life and my job. Even disability pales into insignificance beneath the spotlight of celebrity. Don’t misunderstand me, in no way do I consider myself to be a celebrity, but because my career is deemed exciting, interest in my arm wanes and the only thing any of the kids want to know is: How do you get out the back of the telly?

Pretty soon they all wonder away to play, apart from the little girl who initially screamed when she saw me, she wants to know how can I have a daughter when I don’t have a husband? At this point I distract her with a dandelion clock and take my own child to get an ice cream. That’s the thing about disability, it’s rarely the thing that defines you, and people are never just one story. They are a million different stories all woven into one and by telling Libby’s story, by showing all the wonderful things that complete her, I hope children experience a magical adventure, where having one hand is really not the most interesting thing.