Identity

“Andrew Tate is a father figure to me” - lessons learned from talking to young people in schools

Written by Bold Voices

Bold Voices is an award-winning social enterprise preparing and empowering school communities to recognise and tackle gender inequality and gender-based violence through the delivery of educational talks, workshops, training and resources for young people, teachers and parents.

On January 3rd, the Bold Voices team arrived for our first staff training of the year. We love delivering staff training in schools, and we were excited to be back, if slightly unprepared for the early start and January rain. The session ran smoothly and the staff were engaged and passionate, all seemed as usual until we asked if there were any questions. Dozens of anxious hands shot up and they all had the same question – “what can we do about Andrew Tate?”

It wasn’t a surprise to any of the team, especially after the most recent news over the Christmas break, but the number of times his name has come up in schools in January has been unprecedented.

Back in July 2022 we began to hear students talk about Tate, and in order to get ahead of what we could see was a growing issue, Bold Voices released our Parent and Staff Toolkits to equip adults with the skills and confidence to have conversations about the ‘King of Toxic Masculinity’ with the young people in their lives. As the education sector catches up with the fact that this popular figure is not going anywhere anytime soon, we have seen a whole range of approaches to dealing with his popularity amongst teenage boys.

One strategy which we’ve seen is the blanket ban – sanctions for anyone who says his name in school. Another approach is whole school assemblies to speak about the harms of his content and messages. The young people we’ve spoken to don’t feel this works; they either say they feel silenced, or that the school is making too much of it. It is completely understandable that this is how many schools are responding. We certainly don’t have all the answers at Bold Voices, and we are always keen to hear back from other educators and parents who have found effective ways to address this issue (please let us know!) but for now we are encouraging schools to focus on one method that we know can have an impact: starting a conversation.

However, the reality is, these conversations are not easy. Here is a snippet of how they normally go:

“Miss, can I ask you a question? What’s your opinion of Andrew Tate?”

“Well, I’m much more interested in your opinion – what do you think of him?”

“He’s a top G miss. He teaches men how to be men. He makes money. He gets females. He’s a fighter. He is a traditionalist. He has four Bugattis. Those trafficking charges are lies. Those things he says? Taken out of context. Miss, it’s the Matrix. He’s a father figure to me.”

These conversations don’t always feel possible, or respectful, because these young people have internalised the message that anyone arguing against Tate is an idiot, hasn’t woken up to the truth, or they’re simply wrong. This makes it much harder to do our jobs – but we have seen success. In a school which had banned any mention of his name amongst pupils, when we opened up a conversation in a classroom, the feedback we received afterwards was: “I thought Andrew Tate was good but I realised what he does and all the hate against women.”

So what can we do to make more of those conversations successful? How can we move from fear of even starting a conversation, and those that go nowhere, to helping young people to choose for themselves if they want to continue to support Tate and his harmful messages?

Our response is three things (and they’re not easy):

STEP 1: TALK ABOUT HIM – BUT DON’T CONDEMN HIM

This can feel extremely difficult when the messages Tate puts forward are so explicitly dangerous and incite violence, but the more we condemn his words, the more we play into a right or wrong binary that pushes defensive teenagers even further away. Narratives around the Matrix incorporate the idea that there is a “great lie” going on, and figures like Tate (and Trump and other populists who brand themselves as anti-establishment) use this condemnation to push the idea: “that’s what they want you to think”. Break out of this binary by opening a dialogue and empowering young people to see all sides and opinions and to have the autonomy to make their own decisions about who they follow and believe. The aim should not be to have our children believe everything we believe because it’s scary when they don’t; we want to raise a generation of critical thinkers who can form their own opinions.

STEP 2 – MAKE ANDREW TATE UNCOOL AGAIN

This ties into avoiding condemnation – when we stand up and tell young people he is dangerous we give him notoriety and power. Andrew Tate has branded himself as the antidote to cancel culture, so his popularity is not tied to his morality. Not only that, his messaging around gender roles mean that he can discredit those who speak out against him with misogynistic myths – case in point, I asked a student if he would stop liking him if Tate was convicted for the trafficking charges and he said “well, the women are probably just lying for money and attention.”

Attempts to laugh at Andrew Tate have been more successful in damaging his reputation than pointing out how dangerous he is. The closest to this that I’ve seen is this twitch streamer’s video and Greta Thunberg’s infamous tweet. What I don’t like about these tactics is that they use old tropes of emasculation to put a pin in his puffed up performance of masculinity. Relying on his tools to tear him down won’t create meaningful change in the long run (we’ll just see a newer version of him spring up to his place).

STEP 3 – ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS

This brings us to the most important point – we need to change what questions we’re asking about Andrew Tate – instead of asking “what can we do about him?” we need to ask “what is it about him?” And “what is it about this current climate that allows his version of masculinity to thrive?”

His brand of masculinity is what draws people towards him: words like traditional, realist, role model for how to be a man. To most adults he looks like a cartoon of all the most ridiculous tropes of toxic masculinity; the cars, the money, the ideas about mental health. The alleged trafficking of women, the misogyny. So when we’ve looked at why he’s so popular the next question needs to be, what is the context and climate that means he is appealing?

When having these conversations I like to zoom right in, then all the way out. Instead of arguing his actual points with evidence or debating his intentions, I ask questions about what he represents, then look at the bigger picture, and ask why is that appealing right now?

The context in which boys are gravitating towards Andrew Tate is one in which they feel victimised and powerless. As an educator in the gender-based violence sector this can feel frustrating. But ignoring it and saying, “suck it up”, men have had power since the beginning of time, is not helping anyone.

Conversations around violence against women have completely transformed since I was at school less than 10 years ago. In a way that we can see paralleled with the movement for racial justice, conversations around gender-based violence have been radically shifted by events of the past decade: The #MeToo movement, Everyone’s Invited, Ofsted investigations, Sarah Everard’s death and many more. It’s confusing for young people.

Girls, trans and non-binary pupils have more awareness and knowledge than ever (thank you TikTok) about the ways in which they are victimised within a culture of gender-based violence. And they still suffer many different forms of this. But boys feel under siege too. They feel more under threat of being falsely accused than ever. Andrew Tate offers them a different narrative from the one in which they feel they’ve been cast as the baddies. There are no alternative models of masculinity on offer. We go into schools and tell young people that what Andrew Tate puts forward is an unrealistic stereotype of masculinity that ultimately harms everyone. Sometimes they see that, but when we exist in a system that punishes those who don’t fit a stereotype, we construct a reality where it is preferable to be an Andrew Tate rather than a man who can express his emotions and show weakness and vulnerability.

The quote at the beginning says it all. “Andrew Tate is a father figure”. This is how teenage boys feel when there aren’t any other role models for masculinity that seem valuable in today’s world.

The options are; see the problem with masculinity and try your best to not embody it, or go sit with Andrew, the realist, who can show you how to stop apologising for being a man in a world where stereotypes are just ‘the way things are supposed to be’.

As educators on this subject we can tell you that having these conversations on the ground is hard work. It’s a painful slog that feels unrelenting and sometimes futile. Watching boys copy his physical stance, treat me with suspicion, shout down my logic and questions and cling to their idolisation of him makes me realise something; they are clinging tightly because he makes them feel safe and understood. And taking that away is difficult and can feel cruel when we aren’t offering good enough alternatives. If it was anybody but Tate, I would never question a vulnerable year 9 boy’s father figure and role model. I’m so glad he has that. I wish it wasn’t one who would teach him that depression isn’t real, that he should value women as possessions, and that his worth is measured in what he can win, and how dominating he can be. I want to give him a hug.

LET’S COME BACK NOW TO OUR THREE SOLUTIONS.

1- Talk about him, don’t condemn him. At Bold Voices we will keep going into schools and having these conversations. And if you have young people in your life please use our toolkits to start having these conversations too. This part is the intervention and it’s more necessary than ever. The aim is not to condemn and create a right or wrong, it’s to open a dialogue where there is more than one narrative to choose from.

2- Make Tate uncool – but not him specifically and not through emasculation. Instead through promoting other role models of masculinity who seem more appealing than Tate. We look to people like Marcus Rashford, Stormzy, and Steph Curry (get in touch if you have others you promote!)

3- Look at the conditions that make Tate popular. Ask questions and don’t stop asking.

WANT TO LEARN MORE?

Toolkit: How to Talk to Young People About Andrew Tate – Bold Voices
Article: (7 minute read) How to respond to boys inspired by Andrew Tate Mark Roberts – TES
Article: (5 minute read) Andrew Tate: How schools are tackling his influence Alice Evans – BBC
Article: (6 minute read) What is going on with this Andrew Tate hand gesture? Sophia Smith Galer – Vice

HOW CAN WE HELP?

Bold Voices is an award-winning social enterprise preparing and empowering school communities to recognise and tackle gender inequality and gender-based violence.

Resources: Activities for the classroom, toolkits, blog posts and lesson plans for discussing gender inequality and gender based violence. Sign up to be the first to hear about new resources we create through our newsletter.

In Person Talks and Workshops: Discover our staff training, pupil talks and workshops, led by experienced facilitators and delivering on key topics relating to gender inequality and gender based violence.

Decolonising educational spaces: Lunar New Year 2023 reflections

Written by Isabelle Pan

Isabelle Pan is a secondary teacher. She is of Chinese heritage, grew up in France and England, and has studied in Scotland and California. She is from besea.n, Britain’s East and South East Asian Network, and is also working for MA Consultancy. Her interests are in equity in education, promoting books by authors of marginalised backgrounds to young people, and dance. She can be found at @readingwith.misspan (Instagram), and @mspanlanguages (Twitter)

For 3 of the 5 East and South East Asian Lunar New Year festivals, New Year’s Day was on Sunday 22 January this year (Spring Festival, Seollal and Tet), with some countries celebrating for 2 weeks until the Lantern Festival. To bring awareness to the festivals, besea.n (Britain’s East and South East Asian Network) published some Lunar New Year school resources which are culturally sensitive and accurate, and include lesson plans, assemblies, reading lists and form time resources to schools.

In my own school, I presented 3 assemblies, to Years 7, 8 and 9. These were my 1st assemblies ever in my teaching career. Needless to say, I was terrified in the leadup to them.

I had thought about doing assemblies on East and South East Asian (ESEA) cultures before, but though I may be a teacher who presents to 28 students a lesson 5 times a day, and a dancer who has often got up on stage in front of hundreds, speaking to a room of 300 young people for ten minutes was a little too daunting. I avoided materialising this idea, for fear of students being disengaged, or worse, racist.

Naturally, I was hugely nervous on the day. But what surprised me was how, as soon as I spoke into the mic, my nerves faded away. Being able to stand in front of an accumulated total of 900 students, to share with them the traditions of the 5 LNY festivals as well as my own family’s celebrations, and to see students engaging with the topic – this has been such a joy.

The assembly talked through the similarities between the 5 festivals as well as the unique traditions of each festival. Lunar New Year festivals in East and South East Asia mainly come under the following five types:

Spring Festival – China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, Philippines, Indonesia, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, Brunei, Macau
Tết (Tết Nguyên Đán) – Vietnam
Seollal – South Korea, North Korea
Losar – Tibet
Tsagaan Sar – Mongolia

In the assembly I also spoke about the growing tendency for the festivals to be more inclusively referred to as Lunar New Year (rather than just Chinese New Year) as an umbrella name for the five festivals, and to reflect just how many communities celebrate the festival. In addition, I featured photos and videos of my family celebrating in London but also my uncles, aunts, and cousins celebrating in China. There are many misconceptions about LNY and so the goal of my assembly was to give a fuller, clearer, and more sensitive view of the five festivals.

I was touched by the positive reception these assemblies had. Afterwards, students and staff congratulated me on the assembly, told me what they learnt, asked me more questions about LNY, and students I didn’t know greeted me and wished me a happy Lunar New Year in the corridor. One colleague told me ‘thank you for your assembly, it was really informative. I have a Korean guest staying with me and now I know to wish her a happy new year this Sunday’. Children told me ‘Miss now I know we should call it Lunar New Year and not Chinese New Year’.

I staunchly believe in decolonising our education systems, and the way the students (and staff) responded to this assembly is just another piece of evidence that such a change is desired and needed by our students. Young people want to learn more about a variety of cultures – it interests them, it enriches their minds, challenges them to think critically, and builds connection and empathy.

For the students and staff I presented to, this was only 1 assembly. It will not completely overhaul their belief systems. Even on the day I wrote this post, 2 students made ignorant comments with regards to East and South East Asian cultures, in front of me.

The effect such comments have on you does not disappear, but as a teacher you learn to take things less personally. It is still disheartening to hear such comments, but it reflects more on the other person than on you. And it also highlights the fact that education about ESEA cultures and communities is just so dire in this country. The education about ESEA communities in our system needs to exist – I cannot even say it needs to improve, as something needs to exist before it can be improved – in order to challenge anti-ESEA attitudes.

Though schools may occasionally speak on racism in PSHE and assemblies, the nuance is not yet there in many schools. Even when discussing anti-Black racism, I have seen resources that contain traumatic images or videos, triggering Black students who may be in the room. And painfully for me as an ESEA educator, I’ve noticed that issues facing ESEAs are often missing from resources about racism.

I wouldn’t say it’s the duty of ESEA people to speak up, as there shouldn’t be that kind of burden, but I also think change will be so much more powerful with ESEA communities believing we can take up space and speak up for ourselves in schools.

Equally, non-ESEA colleagues are also crucial. A colleague in the Y8 team, who is not ESEA, is the one who had convinced me to do the Y8 assembly, then convinced me to do the Y9 one, and then I thought, ‘I might as well do the Y7 one too’. I’m grateful for her encouragement and her belief that this was an important topic.

Throughout my career, students have always asked me “Miss, where are you from?” I never told them as I didn’t know what they would do with that information, and this fear heightened with every racist experience I had in school. But with these assemblies, I finally very publicly shared stories from my Chinese heritage and family. I was proud of my Chinese heritage.

My nerves which come with talking about ESEA cultures or even showing photos of ESEA faces will not simply fade away with delivering one assembly, because young people (and adults) will continue to make ignorant comments. But I feel increasingly better-equipped, motivated, and empowered to help young people overcome prejudices towards ESEA communities, and hope that there can be a movement to decolonise our education system, so that future ESEA educators and students can be publicly proud when talking about their ESEA heritages.

What are the key educational challenges faced in the classroom by teachers in working-class schools and how much time and space do you have to address them?

Written by Darren Crosdale

English and Media Studies-trained teacher, currently working in a large Liverpool comprehensive

I could list the oh-so-obvious issues faced by teachers in working-class schools but if you’re reading this, it’s likely you have already read similar compilations on a blog or a Twitter thread. So, I decided to do things a little differently.

In over twenty years of teaching, I have had students disclose a wide variety of issues. That they are trans. That their parents are separating. That they had unprotected sex with a neighbour’s lad while their mothers were downstairs chatting. That they were smuggled into the country in the back of a lorry and almost froze to death. The list goes on.

I have never, however, had a student tell me they are poor. That they are hungry. Or that the weight of poverty on their young shoulders was unbearable. Never. And I know from colleagues up and down the country, this situation is replicated.

Occasionally, students ask me to pay for their lunch (and I know I am not the only teacher, sadly.) Every now and again a student will say ‘Those apples look nice sir,’ pointing at the apples on my shelf. (I am known for having a Pink Lady at break time. I will always hand one over.) Never, however, has a student divulged that they are ‘poor’ or ‘struggling’ or ‘disadvantaged’ as our teacher parlance states. There is an immense shame attached to poverty in our society. A shame that is rarely spoken about or directly confronted by staff and students alike.

One of my favourite lessons asks students to think about how much the government thinks their education is worth: not some flimsy philosophical description but raw numbers, please. We start off by discussing the world-famous private school, Eton College. Its fees are approximately £46,000 per year. When students begin to brainstorm how much your average secondary comprehensive receives from the government for each child, you can see lights twinkling in eyes. I sit back and listen carefully.

“I reckon the school gets £50 for us,” a girl said recently.

“Per year?” I reply.

“That can’t be right,” retorts a lad. He’s good at Maths.

“Actually,” another student asks, “Do the teachers’ wages and the leccie bill and glue sticks come out of that money too?” She’s better at Maths.

“Yup,” I reply.

“So, it has to be more than £50!” another student snorts.

And so, the discussion continues. This is one of those lessons all teachers enjoy: the students are teaching each other; they are thinking, critically, about our society; it’s one of those lessons where they question the way in which inequality works. Invariably, the students’ suggestions about how much their education is worth moves up from £50 but they can never settle on a figure. Whatever total they hover around, however, it is far, far away from £46,000.

Because these regular comprehensive students simply feel they are worth less than those who attend Eton.

Because they know Eton and their comp are both schools but that one is so very different from the other.

Twenty of the fifty-seven prime ministers the UK has had, went to Eton, including Boris Johnson. Our illustrious former prime minister is in the news as I write this. He earned £1m in just six weeks for after-dinner speeches. It also turns out he is living, rent free, in a phenomenal London town house as well. (https://www.gbnews.uk/news/boris-johnson-living-for-free-in-20m-home-in-britains-poshest-street-despite-earning-1m-in-six-weeks/422207) Because of course he is.

Parents will tell you that one of the fascinating aspects of raising young people is around their acquisition of language. My young people do not yet have the power to say “the myth of meritocracy makes our lives more difficult”. (https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2021/01/the-myth-of-meritocracy-according-to-michael-sandel/) But they can damned well draw a link between Boris Johnson attending Eton, becoming Mayor of London, failing upwards to prime minister, getting caught bending the truth, time and time again, stepping down, only to earn more in six weeks than they ever will in their lifetimes.

I haven’t even mentioned the pandemic yet. Ask any teacher and they will tell you there is a clear demarcation between Before and After two years of lockdowns. Things may have been tough Before but After is a whole other thing. Lockdowns were damned difficult if you were in a comfortable house, worked from home, took regular exercise and did not lose anyone to the awful disease. For those who were already struggling, however, lockdowns were perhaps a last straw. All inequalities were magnified – health, finances, education. A friend who teaches in London told me he insisted during a lockdown lesson, that everyone in his A-Level Biology class turned their cameras on. He was desperate to boost morale and add that human touch so very missed during those dry, dry lessons. A student reluctantly, finally turned on her camera, only to reveal a tiny bedroom with six other siblings wearing headphones, trying to focus on their own online lessons. “That’s OK everyone,” he said, heartbroken after a few seconds of realisation, “You can turn them off if you want.” She immediately clicked that small camera icon off.

The worst of it is that, although our new normal is acknowledged – poor mental health, widespread substance abuse, clear mobile phone addiction – these issues have simply been tacked onto the other issues the most vulnerable in our society have been fighting with for decades.

So, no, I didn’t discuss list the typical list of problems working class school face – recruitment and retention, teachers’ pay, non-sticky glue sticks and a Michael Gove-created exam system that is clearly linked to British children ranking as some of the most unhappy in the Western world … but all of that is in attendance too.

“New year, new me!”

Written by Andrew McGeehan

Andrew (he/him) is a trainer/consultant based in Singapore that loves talking about anything DEIJ related and/or cats!

A phrase that all of us hear a lot every year right around this time. I know I have said it (and non-ironically!). This year, I’m asking myself (and all of you reading this) – what will actually be new? What am I planning to do differently this year? How am I planning to spend my time, energy, resources, and money? How will I commit to uplifting others, pushing for justice & equity in the world, and naming hurtful behaviour in my community?

And in the end, will the new me take the time to reflect, look inward, and identify the ways in which I also contribute to marginalisation and oppression?

Every time a new year comes, regardless of the calendar that we use to mark it, it is a time for renewal. There is that surge of energy that comes with seeing the whole next year laid out before us and the possibilities fly through our minds. We imagine who we might become, who we might meet, what new opportunities we will have, and a whole new life can flash before our eyes. But before we know it, we are back to work, back in our lives, back to the same old routines we always had, and within a month, we are left wistfully wondering where that excitement for the new year went.

I will challenge you today to not let that happen!

I challenge you to make empathetic, inclusive, and justice-oriented commitments to yourself and others and to follow through on them.

I challenge you to question yourself constantly.

I challenge you to have conversations you’ve never had before that are difficult and nuanced.

I challenge myself too.

I am a queer white cisgender able-bodied man doing diversity, inclusion, and equity work in Asia. There is a lot for me to continuously unpack about my cultural background, my perceptions of reality, my understandings of privilege and power. I am constantly learning and interrogating what it means to be a white person and a cisgender man and talking about these issues. I’m clarifying for myself where and what my role should be.

If you are interested in solidarity work, allyship, advancing racial & gender & orientation & disability & religious (& more!) equity, and seeing the world take more rapid steps towards equity and justice, I’ll invite you to make these commitments along with me.

1.Do the internal work – When we want to work towards justice and equity, our interest and passion for the topics aren’t enough. There is a lot that we need to accept about ourselves, socialisations to try and unlearn, and reflection to be had. I often work with folks who prefer to skip this step – in trainings, someone might say “Can you just tell me what we should be doing to make our organisation more inclusive?” And yes, I could do that. But without any understanding of our own internal worlds, we won’t be effective advocates for justice.

What do I mean by this? Spend time uncovering your own biases, accept that we are all brought up to believe negative stereotypes about people who are different than us, analyse your social circles, identify who you gravitate towards to at work and who you avoid and why. We don’t need to be perfect people in order to engage in justice & equity work, but we do need to be aware of what we are walking into the space with.

2. PLEASE move beyond awareness – Awareness is over. There is so much information out there via mass media, pop culture, research, memoirs, peoples’ lived experiences, surveys, etc etc etc! Awareness isn’t a bad thing; but for many people and organisations, it’s the only thing. Awareness without action doesn’t change anything. Having a work event to celebrate International Women’s Day and share information on the wage gap is fine – but it ultimately rings hollow if there isn’t follow up within the organisation to actually reduce/eliminate it within the organisation.

3. Name harm with your friends, family, & colleagues – It’s time to start doing the hard work and talking about these issues with the people closest to us (or at least those we spend a lot of time with). Especially for those of us with a lot of privilege, it’s necessary to name the racism, heterosexism, ableism, sexism and other harms that we see within our families and friends. Naming it and discussing it doesn’t have to be a big conflict, nor does it mean that the person called out is a bad person. We all do things that are hurtful at times, and if we aren’t held accountable for it, we won’t be able to understand and change our behaviour.

It might be easy to start with something simple, like saying “I don’t think comments like that about gay men are appropriate” or “I don’t think jokes about immigrants are funny.” If feeling generous, we may take more time to explain how the actions might harm us or make us feel or provide more resources for them to do their own learning.

4. Commit to making lasting change – Systemic -isms persist because the systems haven’t changed yet. There is tons of value in changing our internal worlds and educating our friends and family. It’s also extremely powerful to work to change systems. In many cases, our capacity to change a system will be in the workplace. We can advocate for policy changes, required trainings, targets for inclusive leadership. These changes can be difficult to make and sometimes run the risk of seeming “boring”, but they create change that lasts beyond our tenure in any organisation. For instance, an organisation celebrating Trans Day of Remembrance and encouraging staff to share their pronouns is great, but does that same organisation have trans-inclusive and affirming healthcare?

If you are part of an Employee Resource Group/Network Group, this is a great space to start considering what institutional changes need to happen in order to create an environment of affirmation and comfort for all. An easy way to start is by reviewing company policies – is the language gender-inclusive? What is the parental leave policy? Are there flexible arrangements? How are neurodiverse staff supported? Does insurance cover mental health?

5. Read & learn about it from those who know (and believe in their knowledge of their own experiences) – There are many amazing activist writers, artists, musicians, and filmmakers out there. Learn about them, learn from them, and buy their products! If you are a majority race person and you don’t know about racism in your country/region, there is surely a book about it written by someone who experiences that racism daily- read it with an open mind. If you want to understand better the experience of a person who lives with a disability, find research that talks about the workplace challenges folks face.

And when you read, listen, and watch about these experiences, believe them. Folks with marginalised identities know what they have experienced. Sometimes we want to dismiss what we hear because it makes us uncomfortable or because we know that we have participated in similar hurtful behaviours. Lean into that discomfort and try to identify where it is coming from without being defensive. I know this is hard and I still struggle with this sometimes, but it is so necessary. Just pause and ask yourself “what about this is making me feel this way?”

Some Singapore-based starting points:

“What We Inherit: Growing Up Indian” – True stories of Indian women’s experiences in Singapore
“Queer Singapore: Illiberal Citizenship & Mediate Cultures” – Highlights the complexity of queer existence in Singapore
https://transformativejusticecollective.org/ — Learn more about the work being done to shift justice away from the death penalty and towards transformation

6. Expand your social circles – So much of my own social justice learning has been through relationships I’ve built with people. I was very lucky to go to graduate school with an extremely diverse cohort and build wonderful relationships across race, gender, religion, and more. Our familiarity with issues brings us greater empathy, and many people care more about issues that affect someone they know. Inclusive access in a city may have never mattered to someone, until their partner becomes wheelchair bound and then they will notice all the ways in which cities are not built for folks with physical disabilities or mobility challenges.

As a word of caution, I do not advocate expanding your social circle in a way that is tokenistic (i.e., I should find a gay friend! I don’t have one of those!). But think about ways that you can expand who you interact with, through social media, connections from other friends, or volunteering. Take a look at who you already know- what is the makeup of the people you spend time with? During my trainings, I always ask people to consider who they go to lunch with at work and who they see other people go to lunch with. My personal experience in Singapore is that many foreigners take lunch together and many locals take lunch together. Could there be unconscious bias at play? Could people be more comfortable sticking only with what is familiar? I don’t have an answer, but it is worth investigating what this looks like for us individually and see what patterns we observe.

7. Try, fail, apologise, and try again – Whenever we engage in work related to justice and equity, we will invariably make mistakes. When someone tells you that you have hurt them, or done something that is racist/sexist/homophobic/etc, apologise for causing harm. If possible, have a conversation to make sure that you understand what it is that was hurtful (but don’t force the other person to share this with you). Think about how you can do better next time and maybe reflect on the experience with a trusted friend.

Maybe you want to become more comfortable naming microaggressions at work – you won’t do it right all the time. But you will be able to refine your technique and enhance your comfort level as you practice. As with any skill, we need to practice it to get better at it. Working towards justice and equity are no different. Do your best and approach this work with a lack of ego and the knowledge that you will make mistakes and that is ok.

8. Understand what you have to gain – Greater justice, equity, and inclusion in the world benefits everyone. People with privilege often feel like they are “losing” something, but that is not the case. There is enough equality to go around. Understand that advocating for gender equity creates new opportunities for people of all genders, including men. We are not diminished when others have the same opportunities that we do; but we are diminished when others are held down by systemic oppression.

Along with this, we have to know and understand our own “why.” Why are you doing this work? Why do you care? I often see organisations and individuals who are doing D&I work because it is seen as trendy or required in the contemporary era. This is a surface level connection to the work that won’t go beyond some token improvements or remain mired in awareness-building. Think for yourself about what your personal commitment is and act from there.

I am pledging myself to the above as well. I am continuously interrogating my place as a White American man in Asia talking about diversity, inclusion, equity and justice. I reflect on how privileged I am to be able to be hired by companies to do this work. I mess up in my trainings and apologise to participants when I’ve cause harm. I work to continue finding research and pedagogies that do not have a US-centric lens and are context-specific to Asia & Singapore. I can and will continue to refine and nuance my approach towards this necessary work.

It’s a journey that we are all on. I hope that you will come along with me in 2023 and consider which of the above items might be part of the “new you.”

Why I pretended my dyslexia wasn’t a big deal - my experiences as a dyslexic teacher.

Written by Catrina Lowri

Catrina Lowri is the founder of Neuroteachers and a neurodivergent teacher, trainer, and coach. As well as having 22 years’ experience of working in education, she also speaks as a dyslexic and bipolar woman, who had her own unique journey through the education system.

When I had already been teaching for about 10 years, I met a pair of grandparents at a friend’s barbecue. They had just received some devastating news; their 9-year-old grandson had been diagnosed with dyslexia.

They told me this in hushed voices, as if they were ashamed.

Although, their reaction was not unusual (97% of respondents in one survey viewed dyslexia negatively *), I was taken aback. Did this mean I should be ashamed or devastated about my own neurodivergence?

I did my best to reassure the couple that their grandson would be fine. I told them lots of successful people, like Richard Branson and Tom Cruise are dyslexic. Although he might need extra support, their grandson could get GCSEs and A levels if he wanted. They seemed reassured. Then I told them I was a dyslexic teacher.

Their reaction astounded me even more than the shamed hush had done previously. They were over the moon at my success! The grandfather toasted my talents, and the grandmother gave me a hug. They both treated me like I had just climbed Mount Everest. I couldn’t fathom why.

Until that point, I had never considered my achievements anything special. Yes, I’m a dyslexic teacher who went on to gain a master’s degree but was that out of the ordinary? I knew no other dyslexic teachers, but they must exist. I’ve always disliked it when people say I’ve ‘overcome’ my dyslexia. I haven’t. I’m still as dyslexic as I was the day I was born ( it’s genetic). I’ve just found ways around it. Most of which involve the use of technology.

I used to downplay my attainment in a matter-of-fact fashion. I disliked people who made ‘ a big deal’ of their dyslexia. My dyslexic friend, and I used to joke that we would write a book called ‘So you’re dyslexic? Just live with it!” As if all you had to do was keep calm and carry on.

I have talked before about my experiences at teacher training, where another student commented that he believed dyslexia was a middle class camouflage of a lack of intelligence. That must have stuck because, up until my chance meeting with these grandparents, I had just shrugged off my neurodiversity (ND) and downplayed my success.

After meeting my fellow barbeque guests, however, I changed my attitude. No, it hasn’t been easy to forge my career, firstly as a schoolteacher and now as a private specialist teacher and trainer. Yes, I do find several aspects of the job harder because of my ND. And yes, I am proud of my achievements.

I’m now 23rd years into my career, I’ve met hundreds of colleagues, yet I know very few ND teachers and even fewer dyslexic ones. My next step is to try and find us all support and recognition so that we can be good role models to ND children. And perhaps inspire the next generation of ND educators.

Reference Dr Kate Griggs ‘ The Creative Brilliance of Dyslexia’ https://www.ted.com/talks/kate_griggs_the_creative_brilliance_of_dyslexia

Building trust: working with Gypsy, Roma & Traveller students

Written by Christian Johnson

Christian works as a tutor with GRT (Gypsy, Roma and Traveller) students for Open Doors Education and Training, and is also a Policy and Campaigns Officer for The Traveller Movement.

I’m a tutor working for Open Doors Education and Training (ODET), a community interest company and educational provider offering funded and tailored education to Gypsy, Roma and Traveller children and young people. Having worked for ODET for over two years, one of the things we often hear from schools and other referral bodies, be that local authorities or youth service providers, is that they don’t know how to engage with different communities from Gypsy, Roma and Traveller backgrounds.

This is something which is unfortunately reflected in the data. When it comes to education, GRT (Gypsy, Roma, Traveller) communities have the lowest attainment rates of any ethnic group in the UK as well as some of the highest fixed term exclusion rates (21.26% for Gypsy/Roma in 2018-19 and 14.63% for Irish Travellers vs. 5.36% of all pupils) from UK schools. These figures are compounded by the well-known correlation between low educational attainment and exposure to the criminal justice system, often referred to as the ‘School to Prison Pipeline’, which extends to the GRT population. Almost 10% of children in the youth estate identified as GRT, which is extremely concerning when we consider GRT only constitute between 0.5 – 1% of the UK population.

In trying to address these widening disparities, we recently released an evaluation of one of educational programs, ‘Tutors for Young GRT’, in partnership with Leeds Beckett University titled ‘Building Trust, Stepping Together’. Through stories, poems and songs, researchers captured the voices and thoughts of a large cohort of GRT students studying with Open Doors Education across the country, distilling their findings into cogent and concise reflections on what works and what doesn’t. These conclusions represent fertile ground for other teachers and those working within education to develop their own approaches to engaging with young GRT.

Tutors for Young Gypsy, Roma and Travellers

In the wake of the pandemic and in response to the data available, ODET’s ‘Tutors for Young GRT’ program was created to provide the support needed to reduce the attainment gap between young Gypsy, Roma and Traveller students and their peers. Each student receives an hour a week of one-to-one lessons from their tutor over the course of a school year, focused on topics best suited to their needs and delivered remotely via Zoom. In designing the program, ODET was keen to ensure that digital access didn’t become a barrier to education – as it was for many students during the pandemic. With this in mind, the digital needs for each student are assessed upon joining the program and, if required, are provided with a suitable device to attend their lessons free of charge.

The tutoring itself is, paradoxically, both generalised but also tailored; encompassing all ages (provided they’re in full time education) and across all subjects. This broader scope gives us as tutors a greater flexibility to tailor our lessons to the needs and interests of the child. While we place an onus on core subjects, if a child is a particularly talented artist then we’ll try to help them cultivate their ability by assigning them a relevantly experienced tutor. The same goes for other subjects; it’s primarily about nurturing a passion for learning among the students and giving them the support they need to succeed, regardless of the subject.

Building Trust, Stepping Together

Compiling the voices and experiences of 135 students, alongside reports published by the tutors at the end of each lesson, the evaluation found the program to be successful in helping to address the educational inequalities faced by the Gypsy, Roma and Traveller young children and young people. These findings were broken down into several sections, each tackling a component of what helped the program’s delivery, and summarising the voices of the students.

Valuing learning despite school – There was an overwhelming sense from the students that learning was important. Many students recognised the importance of the core subjects but also expressed interests in the humanities, arts and music. The report found that despite a desire to learn, many Gypsy, Roma and Traveller young people leave school due to poor experiences in education, often stemming from issues such as bullying, instances of discrimination and racism, bureaucracy and digital exclusion. One student commented that ‘I prefer this (online tutoring through ODET) to learning in class because sometimes it can get a little tricky in class with other people, who can sometimes make it hard to concentrate’. This willingness to learn was reflected in the attendance figures from the program, which, on average hovered at a consistent 70%.

Quality Tutors – The report found that the one-to-one structure of the program was positively received. Consistent across the experiences shared by students, were mentions of the importance of tutors having confidence in their pupils’ ability and building productive and supportive relationships. Another point of emphasis was that students didn’t feel judged or pressured during their learning. One student mentioned that they liked that the tutors are not too “pushy”. I think it helps me learn faster because they never put pressure on us so we are able to focus more.

ODET’s tuition – Research has shown us that GRT communities are more likely to have poor experiences within the education system. Another key takeaway of the report was that the program helped students build confidence with learning, which then carried into mainstream learning. One student reported that ‘school has been so much easier since tutoring with [tutor’s name]. School feels like so much better and all the support I’ve been getting… I really hope our lessons can continue’. This was reflected in data aggregated from the tutors’ reports, which found that roughly 90% of students displayed a commitment level ‘at or above the expected level’.

My experiences working with Gypsy, Roma and Traveller Young People

The term ‘GRT’ itself is a broad umbrella, encompassing three varied groups (Gypsy, Roma and Traveller); each with their own distinct identities, variations and regional specificities. While there might be one broad term, the experiences of each student I’ve taught on the program have been resoundingly diverse. I’ve taught students who’ve left mainstream education in year 8 to be home-educated with their siblings, others who raise horses in their spare time; one young man who competes nationally for his age group in golf, and another who was awarded ‘student of the year’ in their school – the list goes on. In my experience, young people from Gypsy, Roma and Traveller backgrounds are, more often than not, high attainers, just not always in the context of mainstream education.

In a way, it’s a refreshing process to go through as an educator, for each lesson prompts you to reconsider and adjust your approach in order to better meet the needs of the child. Whether that’s through brushing up on your knowledge of golf terminology to teach spelling, or helping a student learn maths by designing a treehouse with them. This is where the format of the program, being one-to-one, really shines. It allows us as tutors, to tailor the lessons to the individual needs and experiences of the student, going at their pace while using material they’re passionate about. I realise it is a genuine rarity within the education sector, to have the scope and the time available to deliver lessons in this way, but it’s greatly needed for young GRT. In order to help address the widening attainment gap and allow these young people to go into the world confident and qualified to pursue a future they want rather than feeling like they’re on the back foot, programs such as these are absolutely essential.

One thing which is consistent across the students who’ve been on the program for a few weeks or more, is an amazing tenacity and genuine passion for learning. These students want to learn. Many just don’t necessarily see learning as synonymous with formal education. Several students have expressed this to me, that academic learning isn’t for them, that it’s for someone else.

This morning I received an email from a teacher in south London looking for poetry recommendations by Gypsy, Roma and Traveller authors she could teach to her year 7 class. I’m certainly no authority on GRT poetry, but it’s great to see educators recognising the importance of including positive Gypsy, Roma and Traveller representation in their curriculum. Including material from Gypsy, Roma and Travellers isn’t something teachers should ignore, but which they can find out about and incorporate. Because having texts, or paintings, or songs for that matter, from GRT artists, shows Gypsy, Roma and Traveller young people that education is for them, that it’s a path or stepping stone they can take to help them build the life they want.

Two of the key words which kept coming up in feedback for Leeds Beckett’s evaluation were patience and support. Many of the students reported feeling intimidated by school, that it was scary, lonely, and competitive. With many students, I noticed a dramatic shift in their attitude to learning after just a few weeks and I think this has a lot to do with just feeling comfortable. Having a historically difficult relationship with the UK’s education system, it’s important that teachers are patient, understanding and sympathetic of the structural barriers faced by many of Gypsy, Roma and Traveller young people and their families before them.

In talking about the report and my experiences as a tutor on the program, I hope to show others working with these young people that they want to learn, want to engage, and will do great things if given the opportunity.

For further information and guidance on techniques to engage with the GRT communities, I’d certainly recommend our recently released toolkit of best practice, titled BESTIE. Released in partnership with the National Youth Association, the toolkit provides a wealth of helpful guidance for practitioners working with young GRT in different contexts. You can find the toolkit here.

When Does Identity Matter?

Written by Mahlon Evans-Sinclair

Mahlon Evans-Sinclair is an experienced educator with extensive participation in the fields of learning, professional & personal development, and EDI (Equity, Diversity and Inclusion).

A good rule of thumb is being able to articulate its relevance to yourself.

I often read many stories/recollections that involve identity markers as a descriptor.

I’ve reasoned with the many manifestations of how people use them and figure that whatever the expression, the main reason is to draw attention to something that seemingly has relevance to the story… but does it always…

A former colleague would often tell stories and when an identity descriptor would come up, they would often pause and say ‘and (e.g. race) is relevant to the story here because’… At first it would take me out of the story as I would wonder what the point of drawing attention to it was for, but the more I heard it being said, the more I felt comfortable and more understanding of its intention – It was a signifier for both the storyteller and the audience that the inclusion of this marker was intentional and why.

In thinking about how we use markers in education, sometimes we implicitly state things and expect that others instinctively know what we mean, or we (un)intentionally ‘add weight’ to the meaning of our stories by throwing in unexplained identity markers as though they are adjectives.

Consider for example that one of the students in a class has a learning difference that needs to be taken into account. It makes sense to say, ‘and this status matters here because (it will help with your planning/seating arrangements/conversations with them and their family)’. Consider that the same student happens to be the only non-white student in the class. Would stating that there’s a ‘Black kid with dyslexia’ in the class be helpful in the same way?

It’d be useful to think about what you’re actually intending to state.

– Is the race as important as the learning difference?

– Do the race and the learning difference compound?

– Are there no other ways of describing the student?

You could say that this would be simply solved by knowing and using the student’s name – yes(!) – however, we don’t always do this, especially when retelling a story to an audience who may not have the same level of connection to the subject matter.

So, consider when telling a story that involves an identity marker (such as race, gender, age, sexual orientation, physical or mental difference, etc), add in a clarifier of ‘their identity matters here because…’ and see if it actually does.

More isn’t enough

Written by Charles Golding

Charles Golding is a creative director and filmmaker, a disruptor with a passion for change.

CARGO, Charting African Resilience Generating Opportunities, was launched in 2018 to address the lack of inspiring African and African diaspora narratives in education. Since then, awareness has been raised of the bias in representation in the current curriculum.

In the wake of the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020, many groups and organisations have sprung up to address the inequality and lack of diversity in business and education. We cannot be sure whether these organisations were echoing the zeitgeist or capitalising on the moment. Either way, we are now in an unprecedented time where diverse resources and educational tools are available on a scale unimaginable a few years ago. From major publishers, academics and celebrities, it seems many people have thrown their hat into the ring to help address the perceived lack of Black history within our classrooms.

When CARGO began its journey into the world of education, we made a number of conscious decisions that would help define our focus and ambition. As Lawrence Hoo, CARGO co-founder recounts in the BBC documentary The Classroom Revolution: “At school, we weren’t taught white history.” This is an important distinction with the language we use to describe our work.

We choose not to categorise the material we created with the binary simplicity of racial politics. We put language at the heart of our material. For example, we use ‘of African and African Diaspora heritage’ rather than ‘Black’; ‘of European heritage’ rather than ‘white’; ‘enslaved people’ rather than ‘slaves’. Our choice of words help to humanise often dehumanised narratives and define our direction.

Another important distinction is our focus on engagement. We do not want our material to feel like a traditional classroom resources. We approach the creation of CARGO Classroom resources with a desire to create material that will engage, educate and entertain.

Beyond our drive to address the inequality within the secondary school system was a realisation there was a need to energise and enrich the dusty and often antiquated environment of teaching in schools. We understood there was a void beyond racial inequality that spanned generations. The traditional institutions that have governed the distribution of educational material are no longer fit for purpose and have become out of touch with the needs of today’s students. Pupils are demanding change, and all too often, are taking control of their own learning. Due to this demand, we are now developing KS1 and KS2 primary school resources as an addition to the CARGO Classroom KS3 secondary school resources currently available.

No longer can the current frameworks and structures that have governed learning be adequate to fulfil the ideals and aspirations of the coming generations. We want to create materials that would be appropriate for children raised in the age of mass media and gaming. In an environment where information is more accessible than ever before, we know it is important to elevate our material to compete with the ever-changing landscape of digital media.

The CARGO Classroom resources utilise rich, illuminating content from contemporary illustrations, engaging narrative poetry and cinematic videos. We acutely realise the importance of broader representation within teaching and the cross-cultural gains that can be made through a deeper knowledge and understanding. However, the information is only part of the puzzle with the method of delivery and context of the learning being equally as important if we are to inspire engagement and retain learning.

As part of the BBC’s ‘Classroom Revolution ’ documentary, Lawrence visited two children who had been excluded from mainstream education. These students were categorised as hard to reach and subsequently hard to motivate and engage. Their teacher, Rebekah Leese, decided to structure an activity around one of the CARGO Classroom lessons. What you don’t see in the film is as the lesson continues, tutors from other classes gathered in the corridor in amazement as they attempted to look through the windows of the classroom. They couldn’t believe the children stayed engaged for as long as they did. Rebekah remarked: “We are lucky to maintain their concentration for 20 minutes; they were engaged for over an hour.” We now understand one of those students is pursuing history as a subject for further study. Obviously not every classroom will benefit from such a monumental learning experience as a result of CARGO Classroom resources. However, the context and delivery of resources should remain at the forefront of our desire to rejuvenate the landscape of modern learning. It isn’t enough to just supply the material and tell different stories, it’s about how you tell those stories and how we can maximise engagement. We are not interested in ticking boxes; we are here to pull down barriers and broaden ambition.

For more information about CARGO Classroom, please visit www.cargomovement.org/classroom

Being the teacher that I never had...

Written by Craig Weir

LGBTQ+ Educator, Consultant and Safeguarding Lead

People often ask why I became a teacher. The answer – to be the teacher that I never had.

My own secondary school experience was tough. I lived in a small town off the west coast of Scotland where social status was defined mostly by what football team you supported: Rangers or Celtic. My lack of interest in either team made me an outcast to the boys in P.E, leading to me being picked last for all sports and seen as less alpha. It was obvious that the boys quickly assumed that I was strange because I didn’t see football as the most important thing at that point. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested or good at sports; the assumption was that I was different because I couldn’t participate in the locker room “banter”.

This was the start of the multiple years of being bullied for being a “fag”, “gay boy”, “poof” or “bender”. These words were hammered into me daily from what felt like many and most of the boys. Instead of reporting this, I decided to hide my upset for the fear of looking weak and upsetting my family. It was, in fact, my cousin who spoke up when they witnessed the unkindness of their own friends towards me. When my mother finally asked the school to step in and help, they really could not and did not do much. The school were confined by the section 28 legislation that banned the promotion of homosexuality; I still struggle with this now. Unfortunately, the school did not act with speed or strength, which led me to absorb similar abuse throughout most of my school years. In all honesty, I think I’d struggle to write how I really felt at this time. In fact, this is a time that I have lost as it feels better to have “forgotten” what really happened. What I do know is it does – and did – get better.

On leaving school, I trained in musical theatre at a very famous drama school in central London. The fact that I was moving hundreds of miles away from the pain was comforting. I was a real-life Billy Elliot and finally recognised myself and sexuality in others around me. This eventually led to me working in theatre, television and film with some of the biggest names in the industry. I never thought I was going back to secondary school… ever.

Like others, I found the pressures of work got to me and my love for an industry was being destroyed by the conditions I worked under. I was constantly showing poor health and was “blue lit” to hospital after a suspected brain aneurysm which was in fact stress. I hated my job, the hours, and the fact it was destroying one of my biggest loves – the theatre. I also felt too proud to admit that this wasn’t for me. I was worried that I had failed. Again, I was worried that I would upset others and seem weak.

With the support from my partner and my family. I quit my toxic career and retrained as an English teacher. Why? This went back to the hope that I could support someone in a way that was never available to me.

I now work at a comprehensive school in South London. The school has a large focus on sports and it could be said it’s pretty alpha in many ways: competition is very important.

As an English teacher, I went back into the closet and kept my private life private. Some of my colleagues were aware and encouraged me to be open publicly within the school. For some reason, I just could not do it and I didn’t know why.

I now want you to imagine a Wednesday afternoon. I was teaching Romeo and Juliet and Mercutio has just started the “Young Hearts Run Free” scene in Baz Luhrmann’s movie version. My class was overrunning; another class were waiting at the door ready to come in. It was a busy corridor. As I released my class, the popular girl in year 8 was at the door – strange because I did not teach her. This is the girl that can command the attention of her peers in a breath. I’m sure you know the type. Anyway, she knocks on the door asked loudly:

“Sir, are you gay?”

In all honesty, I was shocked by my reaction and shocked by her direct question. She repeated:

“I said sir, are you gay…?

My reply… “no”.

Why did I reply with this?

I then had to teach my next class with a racing heart, struggling to catch my breath, sweat pouring down my face and barely able to think clearly. I was not prepared for the question about my sexuality. I was not prepared to be transported back into the boy who stood in school feeling terrified of the question that I didn’t know the answer to.

After this experience, I thought for a long time about why I had replied “no”. I was mortified and hurt at my response. Why did I go back “into the closet” after 15 happy years out of it?

My colleagues have been brilliant; my leadership have been even better. They understood the pain and allowed me to speak. They allowed me a safe space to decide what I wanted to do.

This year, I decided to tackle this trauma myself. I was going to try to be more forthright. This started with a quick chat about equality with my year 8 class. When they asked me about my wife, I quickly corrected them and said I had a male partner. None of the students had much of a reaction but, for me, the feelings of worry and trauma came flooding back. However, I knew that this time it was on my terms.

I had started to feel empowered and more authentic. I knew that by being in control, my history and identity could be used as a positive rather than negative. So, I and another colleague decided to run the LGBTQ+ club in school. Doing this with another member of staff made me feel safe and supported. The school honoured the decision to have two members of staff on this club as they knew the support we gave one another was important. I could not have done this without her.

LGBT+ History month came round and, as Heads of Year, we both knew that we’d like to deliver an assembly to our year groups on allyship and the history that came before us. Eventually, this turned into a whole school assembly that was delivered to every year group across the week. Honestly, I was terrified. I was ‘outing’ myself to every student and staff member in the school. Starting with the Equality Act, I informed the students that I was delivering this assembly as a gay man. I could feel myself becoming emotional and I’m sure this was obvious to the students too. I was numb and couldn’t speak anymore but the band-aid was ripped off. My colleague was my hero in this moment: in all 5 assemblies she stepped in and swiftly carried on until I could compose myself to continue.

Every assembly got tougher, despite me thinking they’d get easier. I started to see myself as vulnerable again. As the year groups got older, their reactions became louder – particularly the boys, who presented with a mixture of shock, laughter and smiles. This made me feel exposed but my hope was that my pain would be far less than the gain for the students who needed to hear this.

The assembly was received well. Children I’d never met before were saying hello to me. It was positive.

Was there a negative? Yes. I remember a teenage boy stirred up a small anti-ally party in one of his lessons immediately after the assembly. The teacher, of course, had my back and had him removed immediately. Nevertheless, I remember this more than I remember the positives. Recently, I’ve had an experience of another boy miming certain physical acts that he thinks are related to me. Sadly, both obvious negatives here came from boys, boys that are respected and known by their peers. Whilst this could be another trauma trigger… by releasing my pain and worry, I have realised, I’ve gained strength.

Honestly, I have no idea if my experience or honesty has helped anyone at school. What I do know is that I have helped me. Would I have done things differently? Absolutely. However, when we struggle with pain or trauma, I truly believe we can only do our best in that moment. I have amazing friends and colleagues who have supported me in being honest, transparent, and visible. Hopefully, this visibility will help someone else one day.