Equality, Diversity & Inclusion at King's College London

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Yes, #metoo

Sarah Guerra – Director, Diversity & Inclusion 

I chair the It Stops Here Taskforce.

I proposed this idea to the Principal quite soon after my arrival at King’s last year. Before I go any further I should note that It Stops Here wasn’t my brainchild. Hana Riazuddin and Alison Stenton have played a key role in leading King’s activity and set us on our path to realise our zero-tolerance ambition in relation to harassment, bullying and discrimination. Their determination and commitment created the strong foundations  on which we are building.  As Director of Diversity & Inclusion, it didn’t take me long to identify harassment as one of my top  priorities.

Firstly, inclusion is about the environment and culture we are in and comes from how we feel on an everyday basis. Any behaviour, attitude or system that imposes limits and makes us feel uncomfortable or apprehensive means ‘inclusion’ for all is hampered. Both deliberate and unwitting forms of harassment, bullying and discrimination occur every single day and many are not challenged effectively, or at all, something that needs to be explored and dealt with.  That would probably be reason enough on its own however reviewing the UUK Change the Culture report and various pieces of evidence  from the higher education sector triggered memories of one of my own personal experiences, way back when I was an undergraduate.

I don’t tell this story to overshare or to garner sympathy and I would like to forewarn readers that the following contains thematic elements that some may find upsetting. I do so to expose how simple, naïve decisions can lead to something completely unexpected that has a long-term impact.

After failing to make the grades for a place at Sheffield or Liverpool, I ended up going to university in London. The vagaries of the English A level examining bodies that year meant that my exam contained a question that was pretty maverick (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!) so I got a D rather than the C or B I needed leading me into  clearing!  Being offered a place at the University of North London and being determined to have get the full “campus experience”, I moved into Halls even though I could have commuted from home (I can talk in another blog about being the child of immigrants and having no idea or support in navigating the path to higher education!).

Those first few weeks were such great fun. All that I had imagined – new people, lots of socialising, drinking, hanging out together in the common areas, kitchens and people’s rooms. I had a boyfriend a year or two ahead of me who was studying at Imperial and we agreed on a period of distance so I could make the most of my new home and be free to meet new friends. The halls I stayed in were in blocks of 12 rooms, housing around 150 people.

I quickly fell into a small friendship group made up of 4 or 5 lads who had known each other before and some girls from different places. One of the boys, let’s call him Ben, lived in a house miles away and had mates who lived in the residence. He was around a lot and, I think, generally slept on his friend’s floors. For some reason, that I really can’t remember, one night he found himself stranded and I offered him my floor to spend the night, which led to a sporadic pattern of him borrowing my floor as a bed.  There was obviously talk and assumptions – but from my perspective and as far as I could tell his, it was platonic and convenient -we were mates. I couldn’t tell you how many nights he stayed in my room – on the floor! I mentioned it to my boyfriend and everything.

Anyway, one night, who knows what was different, he just got into bed with me. I was like – what?!  He claimed – it’s just to sleep – just a bit more comfortable. It wasn’t ok but I wasn’t particularly frightened more puzzled and surprised. My recollection is that we were in, what I felt to be, this awkward position for about 10 minutes. I was trying to decide what I thought and what to do. I think, it felt like it might be a poor joke and then one of my best friends knocked on the door.  I remember thinking – oh good this will resolve now without any confrontation.

I went to call out to come in, but before I could, Ben climbed on top of me and put his hand over my mouth. That’s when I realised things were in a completely different place. I froze. I stopped trying to talk. My friend, after hanging about for a short while, went away. This was in an age before mobile phones – so if someone didn’t answer the door that was that.

There we were, Ben on top of me with hand over my mouth, me frozen. When I think back now, the memory is so clear but at the same time, hazy. I can say, while it didn’t get any worse, in that he didn’t further assault or rape me, it was still a horrible experience. He didn’t ‘free’ me. We lay there like that for hours. He talked to me and I stayed quiet. I calculated how long it might be before someone thought more about me not being somewhere and might come and look for me again. I wondered if I could bite him or if I should scream. I wondered if I should pretend that I liked it. I thought about what everyone else thought and how they had all assumed we were sleeping together anyway. I felt such an idiot. How had a misread this so badly?  What had I done?

At some point I must have fallen asleep. That, I know seems unbelievable and might seem like I wasn’t as scared as I was. I can’t explain that – but it’s what happened!  When I woke up he was back on the floor. I lay for a few minutes wondering what would happen if I tried to leave. In the end I did without any issues. I didn’t tell anyone straight away. I just went to a friend’s room and found some reason for them to come back with me. He was gone.

Looking back, I realise it never occurred to me to report what happened. It never occurred to me that I could get any support. I was upset and scared. I was feeling stupid and slutty and was scared that people wouldn’t believe me. I was nervous something worse might happen. I wondered if everyone knew anyway? I thought it was my own fault – that’s what you get if you invite someone to share your room.

What did I want to happen?  I don’t know if I would have known. What would I want now? Certainly for it not to happen again. For him not to do it to anyone else and probably to be told I didn’t do anything wrong. To be assured that inviting someone to do something like sleep on your floor is just that. That it doesn’t reduce your agency or ability to decide what happens in your personal space, to your body.

I never shared this experience at the time in any serious way – I mentioned it to a couple of friends but laughed it off.  The days, weeks and months that followed were characterised with a significant awkwardness and discomfort.  I spent a lot of time thinking and rethinking whether to do particular things, whether to go to particular events and feeling nervous and not knowing what to do when finding myself  in proximity to him. Wondering what he was thinking and what everyone else knew and was thinking.

This story is nowhere near as horrific or traumatic as it could have been. It was an experience that was about someone not understanding or caring about consent or personal space. It was a story about naiveté and a lack of confidence or belief that there could or would be any support. I think myself fortunate that whilst it was unpleasant I had no significant long term effects from it. He gradually faded from my life and I rarely think about the specifics of the incident. Though I have thought a lot about how all these things are things that I don’t want anyone at King’s to feel unclear about, on either side of the picture, or have to suffer alone or in silence.

My experience encapsulates so much of the grey area that surrounds harassment and consent to this day. I hope it will help readers understand why it is so important to be committed to ensuring we as a King’s community must ensure we act concertedly to ensure It Stops Here and a zero-tolerance approach to harassment are more than catchy straplines. They need to be the standard of behaviour expected of us as part of the King’s community. We need to be clear about our responsibility to challenge impropriety and we need to be sure that support is available and accessed by anyone who needs it. They need to statements that everyone believes are rock solid if we are to have a truly inclusive community.

Waking up to my Black History

Sarah Guerra – Director, Diversity & Inclusion 

As Director of Diversity and Inclusion at King’s College London here for my first Black History Month – the 30th anniversary of Black History Month in the UK, no less  – I thought it would be timely and pertinent to provide some personal and professional reflections on my own ‘black’ history as part of this month’s blog post.

I’ve spoken at several events this month, most of which focussed on the themes of ‘being a BME leader’ or ‘My Personal Journey’ as a BME senior figure. As part of my preparations, I put together this mindmap culminating the trajectory of my thoughts and experiences. I find mindmaps a helpful tool to clarify and visualise my thinking, although in this case its really more of a  a spider’s web because everything is interconnected.

When reflecting on my life story, I’ve tended to be humble and played down certain aspects, however now that I’ve been asked to consider and speak about myself as a BME leader I have reflected on how unusual and frankly remarkable I am. I don’t say that to ‘big myself up’ but more as a sad reflection on the under-representation of people of colour in the senior echelons of British workplaces.

Why do I say I am unusual and remarkable?  I was born in Tottenham. I was state educated. I am ‘Black’. These are the fragments of my identity and how I have come to identify myself. Growing up I struggled to identify or describe myself – I’m not technically black – I am brown. But then I discovered ‘blackness’ as a political concept and it felt right and empowering to adopt that label.

Following my graduation, I joined the Civil Service fast stream in 1995. There were thousands of applicants and I was one of the very few people of colour selected. In my particular cohort at Inland Revenue, out of the 20 people selected to work there, I was the only one who was BME – and now here I am, working in a position of influence at a globally renowned institution.

That’s rare!

Reading the Guardian the other week, it was reported that  out of 535 senior officials within British universities who declared their ethnicity, 510 were white, 15 were Asian and 10 were recorded as “other including mixed”. I probably wasn’t here when that data was collected so let’s say its 11 now. 1 out 11 – notice any patterns? In 2017 we should all be shocked at that data! I shouldn’t be or feel unusual or remarkable simply because of the colour of my skin.

Before I go further it’s important to recognise – because it is easy to lose this – people of colour bring enormous talent and positive contribution to the world (see the talent sector in my mindmap). I have a range of personal strength and professional talents: strategic thinking, understanding how organisations work, enabling change in a way that is  effective and sustainable, listening to people and translating their words into meaningful organisational actions.  I have particular characteristics and qualities – I’m curious, I care, I’m determined and I work hard.  I’ve worked hard on myself through professional development, feedback and therapy.  If I don’t understand something –  I work to or if I think something isn’t working, I work to fix it. These are skills and capabilities – they make me effective. They make me a leader, role model and well worth employing. What these qualities don’t do is  make me that special. Many, many people of all shades have these qualities. However in the past, my particular shade has held me back. How do I know? Of those 20 people who joined Inland Revenue back in 1995, I was pretty much the only one who wasn’t promoted into the Senior Civil Service. And yet, as King’s has proven, it’s clear I have senior leadership ability.

It may be uncomfortable for some to think that in this society, race remains a factor that can hold someone back professionally, however I do think my identity has had a big impact on how successful or not my career has been and how I have ended where I am

So, obviously as with all of us, I am all sorts of things (see the identity section of my mindmap) – but when thinking about ‘who’ I am it condenses into a few clear categories:

A black woman and a working parent from a working-class background.

Whilst I no longer see being black or from a working-class background, or a working parent, as things that hold me back – the fact is they absolutely have the potential to in any given situation. Key to where I am now was the juxtaposition between my own drive to succeed and the high aspirations and expectations set for me by my parents and the contrastingly low expectations held by practically every other institution I encountered – school, sixth form, university and Civil Service.

At the age of 16, I was told at that A Levels weren’t for people like me, despite being top set. At 18 I was told that university wasn’t for me and that I should consider something more practical and vocational. After university I applied for thousands of jobs in the legal profession to no avail… these are just a few of my war wounds.

Realising the contrasts of the expectations that were placed on me and the impact of this in overcoming barriers and confounding those expectations have personally driven my passion for challenging injustice, working to ensure that others do not have to face the same frustrations. Just as importantly, I’m committed to working to change systems that discriminate or marginalise (intentionally or otherwise) and to helping organisations recognise what they are missing and create solutions. These are a key part of what led me into diversity and inclusion work.  It’s trite but I really do want to make a difference and want the world to be fair!

For me, I don’t like to lose or to be told that I can’t have what my talent deserves. The experience of having to fight  and having nothing come easy has shaped my whole life experience, and I believe, has made me a far more engaged and valuable employee.

I started work at 13. I’ve always had the emotional support of my family but they weren’t always in a position to support me financially. That early life experience of having to ‘get by’ and work in all sorts of places was invaluable to building my empathy and resilience. The Civil Service gave me so much opportunity, the ability to try all sorts of roles  – maybe at least 4 different ‘professions’, learn and develop and test out skills. It was also an amazing grounding in the value and impact of public policy and how ‘systems’ really work. Following the Civil Service, I worked for a Trade Union which unleashed my passion, my campaigning and organising spirit and at the same time developed my technical knowledge around every aspect of employment law. I trot you through that, I guess, to show that you don’t know what experience someone has or what they can do- by simply looking at their wrapper.

Black History Month helps us realise that many, many people’s contributions are unseen, unrecognised and undervalued. That we have been socially conditioned to see the world through certain lenses and we need to be able to see so much more in each other, which is what I see as the heart of diversity and inclusion work.

There’s a section on the mindmap that I’ve labelled ‘random things’. I’ve called them random but really they aren’t, rather they’re well known issues and quite obvious ones for us to address! Especially during Black History Month.

Racism and sexism are prevalent everywhere.

They manifest differently and aren’t always obvious or in your face – but they are there. I could tell countless personal stories, both from long ago and in recent years, all of which have had an impact on the way I face the world as a black woman.

Those of us that have been victims hold the scars and they run deep. A single negative experience casts a long shadow. In addition, it erodes trust and goodwill. It leads people to interpret things that happen differently – through a different less forgiving lens.

Would it shock you to hear that in coming here to King’s I spent as much time thinking about how to ensure I wasn’t cast as the ‘angry black woman’ or the pink and fluffy inconsequential D&I diva? That on a regular basis I consider what I say and how it might be interpreted and what possible unconscious/sub conscious/stereotyping reaction people may have towards me? As I do about what needs doing?

The weight of these various considerations that I have to make on a daily basis is something I think those in the majority and those that have always been accepted find difficult to comprehend or believe. This is really the heart of what institutional racism and sexism are. I see a big part of my role here at King’s and my contribution to ‘history’ being to help the institution understand that as individuals and understand how we mitigate it to create the extraordinary student and staff experience Vision 2029 articulates.

I’d like to reflect on the difference I feel working at King’s College London compared to the previous employers and why I am so hopeful for the future. The very fact that my post has been created and been given such a platform and power is a huge step and demonstration of institutional commitment. It contrasts directly to a similar role I held at the Ministry of Defence where – recruited to similar portfolio, I sat at a more junior level, with no resources to speak of, limited organisational support and crucially ‘people like me’ weren’t supposed to speak to the most senior leaders. Those initial barriers just haven’t existed at King’s.  Autonomy to set the agenda – the positivity with which my expertise is welcomed and the leadership endorsement and support I have been given means I feel so motivated and hopeful for the future. Every day I feel valued and valuable, I see and feel the impact of my work and the difference I am making.

To sum up, my personal journey has led me to recognise my strengths, know who I am and what I stand for, led me to apply myself and take opportunities and I don’t pretend the world is fair. This Black History Month I’d urge everyone at King’s and particularly leaders and managers to do all those things and also examine how you interact with people – who you know, who you listen to, who you favour – you can address the unfairness – you can help it but you have to notice and act.

Happy 30th Black History Month. Maybe one day we will get to the place where all cultures and identities are given equal focus in the way history is recorded and we won’t need the ‘special’ focus.

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