Tag: Inclusive Practice

Blog Task 3 – Race

When I first read the UAL anti-racism action plan, especially the bit that says “increase representation of BAME academic staff by 15%” and “by 50% at Grade 7” (UAL, 2021), I didn’t feel reassured. I felt anxious. I started to question myself: Was I employed because I’m good at what I do, or was it to help the numbers look better? I support the idea of equity and increasing representation, of course I do, but this way of framing it made me feel like a statistic, not a person.

Asif Sadiq’s TED Talk (2023) put words to something I’d been struggling to explain. He says, “It’s easy to count people, but it’s hard to make people count.” That really hit home. Sometimes inclusion feels more like performance, something that looks good on paper, but doesn’t actually shift who is being listened to or who feels like they belong. It reminded me of another point he made, about how all the case studies and resources he saw while studying business were about the successful people who didn’t look like him. That example stayed with me. It mirrors what I sometimes feel in my own academic journey, like I’m not the person these spaces were originally built for.

Bradbury (2020) deepens this point using Critical Race Theory. She explains how policy, even when it claims to be neutral, often centres whiteness as the default. She writes that “representation is necessary but not sufficient” and argues that without shifting power, policies risk turning people of colour into symbols of institutional success instead of truly including them. That resonated. Sometimes being visible feels like being under a spotlight rather than being supported.

On Monday, in our group discussion in the workshop 3, we spoke about this too. We questioned where these percentages in the action plan came from, and who decides them. We also talked about the way data is collected, how we’re not always told why our identity data is being used, or how. That can feel invasive and a bit performative, especially when you’re not sure if it’s helping or just another tick box. We also questioned the term “BAME”—how it groups so many different people together and ends up creating a binary between “white” and “everyone else.”

I’m not saying the action plan is bad. It’s a step. But if we want real change, the approach has to go deeper. Garrett (2024) talks about how racialised PhD students often can’t picture a future in academia because the system hasn’t shown them one. That really stayed with me, because representation on paper doesn’t always translate into real support, real listening, or a real sense of belonging.

One thing our group suggested was making data collection more transparent, clearly explaining how it’s used, and why, and building it into a two-way conversation. Because anti-racism shouldn’t feel like something happening to us—it should feel like something we’re actively shaping together.

Reference:

Bradbury, A., 2020. A critical race theory framework for education policy analysis: The case of bilingual learners and assessment policy in England. Race Ethnicity and Education, 23(2), pp.241–260.

Garrett, R., 2024. Racism shapes careers: Career trajectories and imagined futures of racialised minority PhDs in UK higher education. Globalisation, Societies and Education, pp.1–15.

Sadiq, A., 2023. Diversity, Equity & Inclusion. Learning how to get it right. TEDx Talks , 2 March. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HR4wz1b54hw [Accessed 4 June 2025].

University of the Arts London (UAL), 2021. UAL Anti-racism Action Plan Summary. London: UAL.

Blog Task 2 – Faith, religion, and belief

Through my work as a specialist technician and associate lecturer, I’ve become moe aware of how race, faith, and gender intersect with classroom dynamics, often invisibly. I don’t practice a religion myself, so at the first I didn’t think much about faith related to my teaching. But from the Blog 2 resources, especially Ramadan (2022) and Rekis (2023) opened up a deeper understanding of how identity shapes who is heard, believed and accommodated in academic environment.


In Ramadan’s study, Muslim women academics shared how they avoid social events that involved alcohol. On paper, this sounds more like a personal choice, but reading further, I realised this’ Choice’ often came with a professional cost: for instance, lost networking, exclusion from information sharing, and subtle sidelining. It reminds me how social norms, like afterwork drinking or casual meetups can feel optional, but actually function s gatekeeper to full participation. One participant in the study noted that while she was technically included, she still felt unable to fully belong in academic culture. This struck me as a form of exclusion hidden in plain sight that I can relate.


Rekis(2023) offers a powerful framework for understanding this through the lens of epistemic injustice. Testimonial injustice occurs when someone is seen as less credible based on identity. This resonated with me personally. As an Asian Women in a predominantly white UK institution, I’ve often been mistaken for a student, in a surface level, it might seem minor, just a mix-up. But over time, I started to realise this reflects an assumption about credibility, assumption of age based on the look. Because I share an ethnic background with a large portion of students, some people see me through that student-lens first, before seeing my professional role. If I were a white woman of the same age, I wonder: would those assumptions still happen? These moments reflect broader assumptions about who “looks like” a lecturer, and who doesn’t.


Hermeneutical Injustice, as Rekis explains, is even harder to notice. It’s when someone lacks cultural tools or shared language to explain their experience, and therefore can’t be fully understood. Muslim women who wear the hijab are often seen through western stereotypes: either oppressed or hyper-religious. Their own explanation of veiling is as an act of devotion, agency or spiritual expression. As cited in Rekis (2023, p. 787), Alia Al-Saji observes that “the veiled woman is at once hypervisible as oppressed and invisible as subject.”, this lead to Muslim women is made hypervisible as a symbol, but her own subjectivity, her voice, meaning, and beliefs are remain unseen. That’s what makes this injustice so persistent.
In my own teaching, I’ve worked with Muslim students who missed session during Ramadan. When I noticed their absence, I made sure to email them, share leaning resources, and assure them that their participation was still fully recognised. As educators, we can’t always remove barriers, but what we can do is to make sure students know the barriers aren’t their fault, weather it’s their religion, race, believes or cultural background.


Jawad (2022) makes a similar point about Muslim Women in sports. She notes, :’ There is nothing in Quran or Hadith that explicitly precludes men’s or women’s participation in physical activities.’ Yet sport often excludes women of faith though assumptions about body visibility, clothing and mixed sex environment. This made me question why our definition of sport is so narrow? Why must inclusion come with compromise? Hy don’t dominant system adapt to difference, instead of demanding the reverse?


In the Trinity University (2016) Video, Professor Simran Jeet Singh mentioned when he went to an airport, people were looking at him with fear and funny looks, awkward,It wasn’t just an awkward moment, it shaped who gets to feel safe, who gets to speak, who is seen as a threat, and who ends up staying silent. But he didn’t stay silent. He started a conversation, and even showed a photo of his daughter, helping others to see him as just a normal person. That small action challenged the stereotypes placed on him. I think this is the kind of environment we should be working towards in higher education , one that doesn’t avoid difference, but makes space to break down assumptions through real, human connection.


Moving forward, I want to continue questioning what feels “normal” in our academic culture. From the language we use to how we deliver sessions or shape feedback, everything carries hidden norms. I will explore how to create more flexible, identity aware systems in both my 1-2-1 work and Digital Communication teaching.

Reference:

Jawad, H. (2022) Islam, Women and Sport: The Case of Visible Muslim Women. Religion and Global Society Blog, LSE. Available at: https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/religionglobalsociety/2022/09/islam-women-and-sport-the-case-of-visible-muslim-women/ (Accessed: 23 May 2025).

Ramadan, S. (2022) ‘When faith intersects with gender: The challenges and successes in the experiences of Muslim women academics’, Gender and Education, 34(7), pp. 853–870.

Rekis, J. (2023) ‘Religious Identity and Epistemic Injustice: An Intersectional Account’, Hypatia, 38, pp. 779–800.

Trinity University (2016) Challenging Race, Religion, and Stereotypes in the Classroom. [Video] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CAOKTo_DOk (Accessed: 23 May 2025).

Blog task 1 – Disability

After studying Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality, which highlights how different aspects of identity such as race, gender, disability, and class can overlap to create unique experiences of discrimination and privilege (Crenshaw, 1991), I found the video Intersectionality in Focus: Empowering Voices during UK Disability History Month 2023 particularly resonant.

In this video, Chay Brown shares his experience as a white, trans man with a mental health disability. Although his whiteness grants him certain privileges, he also faces complex challenges navigating hidden disabilities and decoding social cues within the LGBTQ+ community. His story powerfully shows that discrimination is not caused by a single aspect of identity, but by the collision and compounding of multiple identities.

Reflecting on Chay Brown’s Intersectionality
by Rebekah Guo, 2025

In the diagram I created, I mapped out different parts of Chay Brown’s identity: being white, living with a mental health disability, and being a trans mom. As a white man, Chay carries certain social privileges, especially compared to racial minorities. But at the same time, his lived experience is far from simple. Being a trans gay man with a hidden disability brings layered, often invisible challenges. Because his disability is not immediately visible, it can be harder for him to express his needs or gain recognition for the barriers he faces. There’s also the pressure to learn the subtle non-verbal communication often expected in male-dominated spaces, as he described, it’s adding another layer of anxiety.

Chay’s interview really resonated with me because it reminded me of my own intersectional identity. I am a Chinese woman, living with a mental health disability, and an immigrant. There are challenging situations I encounter sometimes without even fully realising they’re unfair. I’ve learned to fit in, to read hidden social cues, even when doing so feels uncomfortable or overwhelming. I am also neurodivergent, and I find it very stressful to stay in loud, chaotic social environments for extended periods. For a long time, I thought I simply disliked these spaces, but now I understand it as part of my disability experience, not a personal failing.

Reflecting on my own Intersectionality
by Rebekah Guo, 2025

According to UAL Active Dashboard data (University of the Arts London, 2024), around 2.94% of students declared mental health conditions in 2024/25, 656 individuals. While this may seem like a small proportion, it actually represents a significant number of people who are navigating invisible disabilities alongside the demands of academic life. Although UAL offers a wide range of mental health support services, not all students are aware of them, and many may feel hesitant or uncomfortable seeking help.

University of the Arts London (2024) UAL Active Dashboard: Student Profile: Characteristic 2024/25

This reality makes it even more critical to recognise that inclusion must happen inside the classroom itself, not just through external support channels. Hidden disabilities, like mental health challenges, are often overlooked in standard classroom practices. As a result, many students who are struggling silently end up feeling excluded, even when they are physically present.

Reflecting on intersectionality has made me realise that creating a genuinely inclusive learning environment means intentionally valuing and responding to invisible needs—not just visible ones. In my future practice, I want to make hidden disabilities visible in the sense of recognition and respect, without forcing disclosure. By embedding flexible ways to engage, express, and participate into everyday teaching, I hope to create spaces where students with diverse, often unseen, experiences can truly feel seen and supported.

In the third interview video, Christine Sun Kim’s words, “If you don’t see us, we have no place to be,” stayed with me deeply after watching her interview. It reminded me that visibility is not just about acknowledgement — it’s about expectation, about infrastructure, about creating spaces where people know they are anticipated, not just accommodated.

Reference:

Crenshaw, K. (1991) ‘Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’, Stanford Law Review, 43(6), pp. 1241–1299.

University of the Arts London (2024) UAL Active Dashboard: Student Profile: Characteristic – Disability 2024/25, unpublished internal data. Accessed 29th April 2025

YouTube (2023) Intersectionality in Focus: Empowering Voices during UK Disability History Month 2023 . Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yID8_s5tjc (Accessed: 28 April 2025).

YouTube (2021) Christine Sun Kim: “Friends and Strangers” . Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqoDsQyqGpA (Accessed: 28 April 2025).

This blog post has been supported by grammar and expression checking using OpenAI’s ChatGPT 4o model.

OpenAI (2025) ChatGPT [online]. Available at: https://chat.openai.com/ (Accessed: 28 April 2025).

Reflective Writing 1: Intersectionality

Workshop 1

Key Concepts in Inclusive Practice

Reading list:

  1. Crenshaw, K. (1990) Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color. Stanford Law Review 43 (6)
  2. Lukkien, T., Chauhan, T. and Otaye‐Ebede, L. (2024). Addressing the diversity principle–practice gap in Western higher education institutions: A systematic review on intersectionality. British Educational Research Journal.

Summary:

Reading Kimberlé Crenshaw’s (1990) foundational article Mapping the Margins, I was introduced to the concept of intersectionality: a framework that explores how overlapping identities such as race and gender create unique forms of discrimination. Crenshaw focuses on how women of colour, particularly in the context of violence and institutional neglect, are often excluded from both feminist and antiracist discourses.

Similarly, Lukkien et al. (2024) examine how intersectionality plays out in Western higher education, identifying a significant gap between institutions’ stated commitments to diversity and their actual practices. They argue that many diversity policies fail to address the lived realities of individuals with intersecting identities, and offer practical recommendations for more inclusive, system-level change.

Both articles prompted me to reflect on my own position as a Chinese woman in the UK, and the ways intersectionality impacts not only my personal experiences but also my role in supporting students from diverse backgrounds.

Reflective writing:

Reflecting on Intersectionality and My Positionality as a Chinese Woman in the UK

Reading Kimberlé Crenshaw’s work on intersectionality made me reflect deeply on my own identity as a Chinese woman living and working in the UK. While I couldn’t immediately recall specific moments when stereotypes impacted me, I’m certain they have—whether subtly or overtly. As I think more carefully, I realize these experiences are often layered into daily life, making them harder to pinpoint, yet impossible to ignore.

There’s a pervasive stereotype that Asian, particularly Chinese women are submissive, quiet, and less likely to speak up for themselves. I’ve felt that people often assume we’re more agreeable, easier to ask favours from, or less likely to challenge authority. I’ve observed that when similar situations involve white women, others tend to show more caution or emotional sensitivity in their approach. This subtle difference reinforces a kind of social hierarchy, in which Chinese women are perceived to be “beneath” their white peers—not just culturally, but even interpersonally. As Crenshaw (1990, p. 1244) explains, women of colour are often “marginalized within both” feminist and antiracist discourses because of their intersectional identity. This really resonated with me.

These experiences are made more complex by how China is portrayed in Western media. I’ve lost count of the number of times someone’s asked me if I eat dog or cat, or assumed that I lived under 24/7 surveillance with no freedom of speech. It’s honestly exhausting. These aren’t innocent questions—they’re shaped by years of media framing China as this mysterious, oppressive, “othered” place. And when people discover I’m Chinese, it’s like all of that baggage gets projected onto me automatically. It reduces who I am to a political narrative. Crenshaw (1990, p. 1242) talks about how ignoring the differences within groups creates tension among them, this kind of generalisation is exactly that. It doesn’t leave space for my actual experience as an individual.

Thinking about my role as a technician and lecturer, I’ve started seeing how my own background—growing up in a family that valued organisation and independence has shaped the way I handle work. I started living alone at sixteen, so by the time I went to university, I already had experience managing my own schedule and reaching out for help when I needed it. But not all of my students have had the same experience. Some are first-generation university students. Others are juggling jobs, caring responsibilities, or mental health challenges. I used to find it frustrating when they wouldn’t turn up to tutorials or ask for support when falling behind. But now I’m starting to realise: I was seeing it through my lens, not theirs.

This shift in thinking links to what Lukkien et al. (2024, p. 5) describe as the “principle–practice gap” in universities. Institutions often say they value diversity and inclusion, but don’t always make space for people with intersectional identities in a meaningful way. And the problem isn’t just about surface-level representation it’s also about deeper power dynamics. As they put it, one of the reasons institutions struggle to apply intersectionality in practice is because “the heterogeneity of intersectional identities makes it impossible to meet everyone’s needs” (Lukkien et al., 2024, p. 18). But that doesn’t mean we give up—it means we need more thoughtful, flexible approaches.

One thing I’m reflecting on is how to better support students who might not feel comfortable speaking up. I’ve noticed many international students, especially from Asian backgrounds, are very quiet in class. It’s not because they have nothing to say, it’s often because they feel unsure, or the environment doesn’t feel accessible to them. As Lukkien et al. (2024, p. 19) recommend, universities need to think more about “supportive mentoring and allyship structures” that reflect the actual lived experiences of minoritised students. That could mean more check-ins, more encouragement, or just making it easier for them to say when something’s hard.

Crenshaw (1990, p. 1241) reminds us that “many of the experiences… are not subsumed within the traditional boundaries of race or gender discrimination.” That hits home for me. It’s not about choosing one identity over another—it’s about understanding how they work together. And it’s only when we recognise, relate to, and really see someone else’s struggle that we can find real solutions. That applies not just to institutions, but also to me, as someone who works with and supports students every day.

Reference:

Crenshaw, K. (1990) ‘Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’, Stanford Law Review, 43(6), pp. 1241–1299.

Lukkien, T., Chauhan, T. and Otaye-Ebede, L. (2024) ‘Addressing the diversity principle–practice gap in Western higher education institutions: A systematic review on intersectionality’, British Educational Research Journal, [online] Available at: https://doi.org/10.1002/berj.4096 [Accessed 11 Apr. 2025].