Honouring our communities

Wayne Reid, professional officer and social worker, discusses the importance of community this Black History Month.

Black History Month invites us to pause, remember, acknowledge and celebrate. However, I would like to see Black history and the reflections it invites being recognised routinely - all year round.

At its simplest, I see ‘community’ as people connected by location, common interests, characteristics or social identity; although, ‘community’ is much more than just geography or categorisation. It’s about relationships, experiences, knowledge, stories and values that exist between people - providing belonging, identity, ‘tough love’, support and opportunity. Communities have the potential to shape us in ways we don’t always realise until much later in life.

One person from my own professional community who’s had a particularly significant influence on my life was a previous manager at the National Probation Service. I refer to him in OUTLANDERS: Hidden Narratives from Social Workers of Colour (in the chapter ‘Ambition Navigation’), because he gave me my first proper frontline role and remains in my orbit.

That opportunity mattered.

Sometimes one person’s recognition of potential can change the direction of a career. A manager can open a door, a colleague can build confidence, and a schoolteacher can shape aspirations. As a child, a schoolteacher told me that Black people cannot swim, a stereotype perpetuated by the historic lack of visibility of Black swimmers.

Representation matters – but on its own it’s not enough. People need authenticity, diverse perspectives and forums to articulate their experiences, share their knowledge and demonstrate their expertise. That understanding has significantly influenced my approach to care and leadership.

My own cultural insights have taught me the importance of valuing the diversity within communities, which is sometimes overlooked in favour of assuming cultural homogeneity. We need to move beyond simplistic assumptions about race, culture and identity and appreciate the shared humanity that exists both within and between cultures. This is partly why I founded the Black & Ethnic Minority Professionals Symposium (BPS) and created the Synergy Sessions.

This is also where Shades of Bias (SoB) relates to the idea of community. SoB is a reflective case-study framework for documenting, analysing and addressing discrimination, oppression and racism. At its heart, is an invitation to pause, examine what has happened, consider our own perspectives and think about what needs to happen next. Communities don’t exist outside the influence of bias; they’re shaped by the assumptions, attitudes and behaviours of the people within them.

We all have a unique lens through which we see the world.

Therefore, I would advise anyone starting out in social work to be self-aware: anticipate that others may label, stereotype and categorise you – while recognising your own inescapable racialised lens. Self-awareness isn’t about pretending that we’re neutral or colourblind observers. Our experiences, identities, upbringings and environments influence how we interpret people and situations.

Reflective practice also means being prepared to ask questions (which may be uncomfortable) - not only of ourselves, but of the people, environments and systems around us. Such questions include:

• what might my own racial lens be obstructing me from seeing?
• whose perspective, experience or voice is missing?
• would the same situation be interpreted, scrutinised or responded to in the same way for different racialised groups?

How can we evidence that our policies, decision-making and organisational practices are effective, equitable and inclusive? This question connects directly to the Social Care Workforce Race Equality Standard (SC-WRES), which uses evidence to identify racial inequalities, develop action plans and drive continuous organisational improvement. Its latest findings show that staff from minoritised ethnic backgrounds are 44% less likely to be appointed from shortlist and 50% more likely to face formal disciplinary action, while remaining underrepresented in senior management.

That tells us something important: reflection cannot stop at the individual. We need to examine cultures, structures, policies and decision-making, asking not only “What did I do?” but “What is happening here? Why? Who is affected? What can we do differently?”

The recent statement from the BPS following the tragic death of Professor Jason Arday reinforces this principle. The statement calls for reflection on professional accountability, institutional decision-making, racialised scrutiny, media representation and public commentary, while emphasising the importance of fairness, proportionality, humanity and dignity.

That message connects powerfully with SoB. We can hold people and institutions accountable, while still recognising their humanity; challenge racism while remaining capable of honest conversations about professional standards and scrutinise institutions while appreciating the complexity of individual circumstances. We can ask difficult questions without losing our compassion. Reflection should not be mistaken for an absence of accountability. It should create the conditions for accountability that is thoughtful, proportionate and humane.

This brings me back to Black History Month. Perhaps controversially, I don’t think Black history, culture and achievement should be confined to October. Black history should be acknowledged, taught and celebrated all year round. It should not be reduced predominantly to colonialism, slavery and oppression. Those histories must be understood, but they are not the entirety of Black history. We also need to hear about the stories of innovation, scholarship, creativity, leadership, entrepreneurship, community building, scientific achievement and cultural influence. We also need the countless stories of ordinary people whose contributions have profoundly shaped their families, communities and descendants. If a broad and representative Black history is integrated throughout all stages of education, it becomes part of the story - rather than tokenistic or an afterthought.

Honouring our communities means celebrating the people who opened doors for us, stories that shaped us and the experiences that challenge us to think differently. Communities are not static. They evolve through relationships, disagreements, learning and collective action. Also, importantly, it means understanding our own responsibility within them.

Black History Month can provide a valuable moment of focus, but the greater challenge is what happens after October.

Do we revert back to “all lives matter”?

Or does our learning influence how we see, listen, lead and act?

For me, genuine recognition isn’t a month. It’s a mindset.

It’s about creating communities and spaces where people are not simply represented, but heard. Not simply included, but uplifted. Not simply present, but able to influence the environments we live and work in.

That is how we honour our communities - by remembering our histories (good, bad and ugly), acknowledging our shared humanity, learning from past experiences and helping shape a future in which every community can be seen, heard and valued.

“One world, one race… the human race!”

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