Equality: Hope, Sadness and Despair

The other day, as we watched TV, I suddenly found myself weeping uncontrollably. Those who know me well will know how unusual this is – my husband has only ever seen me cry once before in the nine years we’ve been together.

So, what caused this sudden outburst of emotion?

We were watching a series on Netflix, called Heartstopper. For those who’ve not seen it, it’s predominantly the story of two young men at high school who fall in love. The series explores, sensitively, and with empathy, the experiences of transgender and asexual characters too. It’s about each of them coming to terms with who they are, accepting themselves and being accepted by others. But, more than that, it’s about belonging.

Even though the series tackles the impact of bullying (including an eating disorder) it was mostly, I found, heartwarming and optimistic. Certainly, compared to my own experiences at school.

So, as we watched these two young men fall innocently in love, I was filled with a strange mix of hope, sadness and despair.

Hope because, let’s be honest, Heartstopper could not have been made in the 1980s when I was growing up. It’s wonderful to think that, for some, lucky to be born in the right place, life as a young gay man might be a little bit easier than it was for me. That you have allies and support; that you don’t always feel totally alone.

The sadness came, as I reflected further on what society stole from me as I grew up, in a rural west country community, when simply falling in love felt like an impossible dream. I hit my teens at the beginning of a pandemic that no-one really talks about anymore; when homophobia and gay bashing reached levels of near hysteria – and that was just parts of the media.

My experiences at school, and beyond, are I think the reason I’ve cried so rarely. Life in a minority can make you hard; many of us learn early how to suppress emotion – and that, of course, can have long-term consequences for our mental health.

I wish, looking back, I’d been braver. But I wish too that I’d lived in a world where I hadn’t needed to have that courage just to be me.

And finally, there’s despair. And that’s the feeling I’m overwhelmingly left with. In the nineties and noughties, it felt that for me and others in minorities, life was getting better - that real progress was being made.

Today, it feels like we’re going backwards.

Hate crime has been rising as a staggering rate in the UK since 2012 to the extent that reported crime rose from 40,000 in 2012 to 140,000 in 2023 and there’s been a similar trend in the USA. There is perhaps no coincidence that these increases have coincided with a rise in far-right political movements.

And now, America, by popular vote, has elected Trump to the White House, who on Day 1 signed an executive order calling for an end to ‘dangerous, demeaning and immoral’ diversity, equity and inclusion schemes. Federal agencies have been told to put diversity staff on paid leave with immediate effect.

Of course, this isn’t just about homophobia. It’s about the ability for anyone and everyone to live their lives peacefully, as themselves, without fear of mental or physical harm. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.

How has this happened and how can we fight back?

For too long, society has relied on the power of the law to protect people and provide equality of opportunity. Too much EDI training has focused exclusively on ‘knowing and obeying the law’ without any consideration of what made those laws necessary in the first place.

The laws are important but, as we’re seeing, laws and the protection that goes with them, can so easily be removed.

Protection for minority groups doesn’t just come from the law and from policies, it comes from understanding, empathy, and beliefs.

That’s why we’ve always advocated a two-pronged approach to Equality and Diversity training.

Understanding the law is important, which is why we have activities like ‘A Level Playing Field?’. But unless we’re addressing underlying beliefs and prejudices and providing real opportunities to learn, we might be doing nothing more than coating those prejudices in a flimsy veneer that can very easily be removed.

That’s why activities like ‘The Witches of Glum’ and ‘Land of the Nutritos’ are so important. They help people understand the reality of being in a minority and (particularly Land of the Nutritos) open doors to real conversations and empathetic learning.

Looking across the Atlantic Ocean now, I wonder how long before Netflix is no longer able to show programmes like Heartstopper?

For those of us who truly believe in equality and equity, there’s a fight ahead. Are you ready?