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Around the world, Queer rights are being challenged, attacked and denied. Governments are cutting budgets for important health and other programmes.
But in parts of Africa, there are distinct signs of progress. Organizations that serve and advocate for Queer communities in Eastern Africa now see hope for the future. That’s the case even in Uganda where “aggravated homosexuality” has carried the death penalty since 2023.
“It is still a very hard environment but we are doing much better than a lot of people think,” said Brian Aliganyira, founder and executive director of the Ark Wellness Hub, an organization based in Kampala, Uganda, that helps LGBT community members who have difficulty accessing health services in public hospitals due to both anti-Queer laws and ongoing community stigma and discrimination.
“We are doing better in terms of fighting back and supporting communities, not necessarily better in terms of protection, rights and freedoms,” Aliganyira said.
In Kenya, homosexual acts are illegal. Rodney Otieno, who is the co-founder and policy director for the Queer & Allied Chamber of Commerce Africa of Nairobi (QACC), described the creation of a “Queer ecosystem” that mobilises resources, builds social enterprises, creates sustainable economic pathways for people of the Queer community and attracts impact investments – using money for good causes even as it generates wealth. The QACC now boasts over 3,000 members in Kenya, plus others across Africa.
Otieno and the four other East African community leaders interviewed for this article generally prefer to use the more fluid term “Queer” rather than “LGBTQ” or any of its many variations.
Kevin Ngabo, a Queer activist and social justice advocate, said that local languages often lack positive or even neutral words to describe queer identities — only stigmatizing ones.
“‘Queer’ gives us an umbrella that feels both flexible and affirming, allowing people to belong without being boxed in by rigid categories,” Ngabo said. “It’s a way of saying: I am different and that difference is valid.”,
Ngabo was born and raised in Rwanda before moving to Nairobi, Kenya late last year.
In Rwanda, there are no anti-discrimination laws but the government does not recognize same-sex marriages.
A Queer rights activist in Kigali, who asked not to be identified, said that young people are feeling more comfortable with their identities. “GenZers are taking up more space as their authentic selves,” the activist said. “They are even getting more understanding and affection from their families. It is not ‘weird’ anymore. This will become the norm.”
The Kigali activist has recently been involved in both a Pride Party and a Queer film festival, which attracted over 600 paying participants from around the region.
Queer community leaders point out different elements of both recent progress and hopes for sustainable success in the future beyond the constant imperative to keep community members safe and to try to get discriminatory laws repealed.
“We need to continue to work together, make good use of our limited resources, be clear about what we are doing, raise awareness and be diplomatic when dealing with the authorities” says another anonymous Queer activist and feminist in Rwanda.
Ngabo in Nairobi believes that Queer people across the region need to develop a strong sense of community and be “stubborn when they are told they can’t do something, and take space and stand up for what they believe in.”
Aliganyira in Kampala agrees that people should not run away from their ongoing challenges with safety, respect and equal opportunity and instead continue to show courage, resilience and perseverance to defend their current rights and expand them in future.
A Queer activist in Rwanda stressed the need to work with allies and others to create more education and training to promote awareness, understanding and empathy.
Ngabo shared some advice: “Start small and start where you are,” he said. “Speak up when you hear harmful stereotypes. Make space for people to share their stories without fear. Support Queer-led groups, attend events, or even just show up for your friends when they need someone safe to lean on.”
Allyship isn’t always grand, he said. “It’s often in the quiet, consistent choices to affirm someone’s humanity,” he said.
Queer community leaders say they are generally optimistic about the future.
“In five to 10 years’ time, the narrative will change completely,” said Otieno in Nairobi.
Young queer activists are being empowered and learning how to take on leadership roles in government and in other decision-making spaces, said one Rwandan activist.
Another Rwandan activist envisions a future where same sex couples will be able to get married, adopt kids and access medical services freely.
“Things will improve if we are smart,” the activist said. “I hope we will see more safe spaces, more affirming healthcare (especially in mental health), more economic inclusion, and more media and policy-making representation. In the end though, dignity is more important than law changes.”
Ngabo in Nairobi agrees: “We want respect,” he said. “We want to feel safe. We don’t want equality. We want equal opportunities. We want to thrive.”
Real progress means being able to live authentically without having to conform, he said. “Stronger protections under the law, safe spaces to gather, visibility in public life, and most importantly, Queer people leading the narrative about our own lives,” Ngabo said. “These are what a brighter future looks like to me.”
Even in Uganda, Aliganyira believes things can still change for the better.
Uganda was once considered the safest place for Queer people in East Africa before the 1990s, he said.
“Uganda can undo what it has done and get beyond fear and uncertainty,” he said. “It’s up to everyone to come together and overcome division.”
1. Why do LGBTQIA+ community members in East Africa prefer to call themselves “Queer”?
2. What are the key elements of a brighter future for the East African Queer communities?
3. What can you do yourself to stand up for human rights as an ally or a member of a Queer community where you live?

This week, I got to welcome Clarissa (Rissa) Sorensen-Unrue back to Teaching in Higher Ed. She’s been on a few times in the past, exploring critical pedagogy; intersectionality, power, and pedagogy; and about the wonderful learning made possible through the MYFest community. This time, Rissa was joined by her sister, Christy Albright. They both shared about their unique (and some shared) experiences with grief and how it has shaped and formed them.
Why write about grief, when discussing communities, as part of this week’s Personal Knowledge Mastery Workshop, led by Harold Jarche?
Grief can be such a lonely experience. Yet there are opportunities to feel less alone through the power of community. I’ve witnessed the ways that networks have helped people with disabilities navigating difficulties with access or inclusion, grieving parents who have lost a child, and connecting those who are looking to advocate for chance in higher education. Harold Jarche quotes Ronald Burt, author of Neighbor Networks: Competitive Advantage Local and Personal, in this week’s reading:
It is not being in the know, but rather having to translate between different groups so that you develop gifts of analogy, metaphor, and communicating between people who have difficulty communicating to each other.
Jarche then invites us to set up and share our Mastodon profile, which we will be using throughout the workshop. I already had one set up on Mastodon.Social (a larger instance of Mastodon): bonni208, as usual, so this was relatively easy for me. Originally, Dave had set us up on a unique Mastodon instance. Ultimately, we decided that it wasn’t worth the expense for us to do so and now we’re both on a larger instance.
If my description of instances are getting confusing, Jarche suggests: Dear Friend: Let’s Talk About Mastodon.
I’m still mourning the loss of community I used to experience on Twitter. First, I went radio silent and ultimately decided to delete my entire account. When discussing communities, that’s one of the things we’re warned against. If we put our metaphorical eggs in one basket and something happens to that basket, there’s no putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. I was able to move some the people I followed over to other platforms, but it isn’t at all the same as it once was.
Many people find themselves on newsletter and social media platforms that are misaligned with their values. Then, there’s all the work with how to navigate that cognitive dissonance. This is messy business. I would advocate holding yourself to high standards as you’re making decisions about where to farm and nurture your communities, but to be gentle with others who are in the process of making their own decisions about where to engage.
I know Harold and plenty of others aren’t a fan of Bluesky, for reasons of replicating the issues many of us faced when investing so much on Twitter back in the day. However, that’s been the closest experience I’ve had to some aspects of community I used to get to enjoy. I like that they have starter kits (thank you for all the bird starter kits, people of the internet) and that my feed has a mix of hard-to-read-yet-important stories, satire and humorous posts, and then there are the birds. Many, many birds.
Note: As I gather a few more links for this piece from my Raindrop.io bookmarks, I see that there is a way to: Roll Your Own Mastodon Starter Kits, thanks to Alan Levine’s ongoing contributions to my learning over many years now.
Speaking of birds, when I was talking with Rissa and Christy, I mentioned something about not having fact checked an Instagram post, but enjoying the idea of when we listen to bird song, that the experience can be associated with positive health benefits. Before finishing the show notes for that episode, I figured I had better do my due diligence and assess the veracity of that claim. Using Mike Caulfield’s Deep Background: Fact Checks and Context GPT,
In the first round of fact checking, the GPT stated that a fact checker might say that this statement is “mostly true.”
Strong evidence shows short-term relaxation and mood benefits from hearing birdsong, including reduced anxiety/paranoia versus urban noise. Broader or lasting “health benefits” (physiological and clinical) are plausible but less well established for birdsong specifically and should be qualified.
When I followed Caulfield’s advice and typed: “another round” in the text box, more nuance emerged. Note the parentheses in the following text, which indicates what is new in this follow up query:
What’s new here is marked (NEW).
What changed / what we learned this round
- We found a credible conflicting lab study (Hedblom 2019) reporting no significant physiological stress-recovery benefit from bird-song masking in a traffic-noise context—suggesting that some of the stronger “health” claims (physiology) don’t always replicate when visuals and context are controlled.
- Two different angles refine the claim: (1) not all birds are equal—e.g., crow calls lower restorativeness scores relative to other species; (2) the mix with urban noise matters—bird/stream sounds may reduce annoyance only when traffic noise isn’t perceptually dominant. These both caution against blanket statements and point to designable soundscapes (what species? what mix?).
- Net effect: support for short-term mood/annoyance relief remains strong (Urban Mind; Stobbe; Buxton), but broad physiological or long-term clinical benefits from listening to birdsong alone remain unproven or context-dependent, and species/mixture effects are meaningful.
Pattern to note
- Higher-quality, controlled lab studies split: some show physiological recovery with general nature sounds (often water + birds), while others show null effects for birdsong specifically—especially when traffic noise is present or visuals drive recovery. Reviews also warn about conflating “birdsong” with “being in nature.” This pattern suggests the moderate claim is well supported, while the strong claim needs tighter, preregistered trials parsing species, diversity, and noise context.
Finally, I followed Caulfield’s guidance to type “context report” for a summary and can share the following results.
Core Context
The claim is often presented as “listening to birdsong relaxes people and produces other health benefits,” which can imply broad, causal, even physiological effects; reviews caution that many studies are short, context-dependent, or conflate “birdsong” with being in nature generally.
In real-time diary research using the Urban Mind app, moments when participants reported seeing or hearing birds were associated with higher mental wellbeing, with benefits persisting to the next check-in; this is strong evidence of association but not proof of causation.
A randomized online experiment (~6 minutes of audio) found that birdsong reduced anxiety and paranoia relative to traffic noise; depression decreased only with a higher-diversity birdsong track, and there were no cognitive gains—supporting short-term mood benefits rather than sweeping health effects.
Evidence syntheses indicate natural sounds overall improve affect and reduce stress/annoyance, with birdsong showing particularly strong links to stress/annoyance relief; these findings speak to psychological states more than durable clinical outcomes.
Not all studies find physiological benefits from birdsong: in a controlled lab study, masking traffic with birdsong did not improve physiological stress recovery versus traffic or silence, suggesting context and modalities matter.
Species and soundscape context shape effects: crow calls score low on perceived restorativeness, and the ability of birdsong to temper annoyance depends on how dominant traffic noise is in the mix—underscoring that “birdsong” is not a single, uniform stimulus.
I felt that note about crow calls hard. Real hard. 😅
Finally, I could hardly do all this writing and thinking about birds without brining up my colleague Ludmila Praslova’s book: The Canary Code: A Guide to Neurodiversity, Dignity, and Intersectional Belonging at Work. The community Ludmila has fostered on LinkedIn to help organizations “transform toxic cultures into thriving ones-reducing moral injusry, unlocking neurodivergent brilliance, and turning inclusion into innovation and belonging into business success,” is a great example of the power of networks.

Until next time…
…and here’s a long list of sources, which I thought seemed appropriate, given what we’re fact checking in this post.

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New research has found that rural LGBTQ+ teens experience significant challenges in their communities and turn to the internet for support.
The research from Hopelab and the Born This Way Foundation looked at what more than 1,200 LGBTQ+ teens faced and compared the experiences of those in rural communities with those of teens in suburban and urban communities. The research found that rural teens are more likely to give and receive support through their online communities and friends than via their in-person relationships.
“The rural young people we’re seeing were reporting having a lot less support in their homes, in their communities, and their schools,” Mike Parent, a principal researcher at Hopelab, said in an interview with the Daily Yonder. “They weren’t doing too well in terms of feeling supported in the places they were living, though they were feeling supported online.”
However, the research found that rural LGBTQ+ teens had the same sense of pride in who they were as suburban and urban teens.
“The parallel, interesting finding was that we didn’t see differences in their internal sense of pride, which you might kind of expect if they feel all less supported,” he said. “What was surprising, in a very good way, was that indication of resilience or being able to feel a strong sense of their internal selves despite this kind of harsh environment they might be in.”
Researchers recruited young people between the ages of 15 and 24 who identified as LGBTQ+ through targeted ads on social media. After surveying the respondents during August and September of last year, the researchers also followed up some of the surveys with interviews, Parent said.
According to the study, rural teens were more likely than their urban and suburban counterparts to find support online. Of the rural respondents, 56% of rural young people reported receiving support from others online several times a month compared to 51% of urban and suburban respondents, and 76% reported giving support online, compared to 70% of urban and suburban respondents.
Conversely, only 28% of rural respondents reported feeling supported by their schools, compared to 49% of urban and suburban respondents, the study found, and 13% of rural respondents felt supported by their communities, compared to 35% of urban and suburban respondents.
Rural LGBTQ+ young people are significantly more likely to suffer mental health issues because of the lack of support where they live, researchers said. Rural LGBTQ+ young people were more likely to meet the threshold for depression (57% compared to 45%), and more likely to report less flourishing than their suburban/urban counterparts (43% to 52%).
The study found that those LGBTQ+ young people who received support from those they lived with, regardless of where they live, are more likely to report flourishing (50% compared to 35%) and less likely to meet the threshold for depression (52% compared to 63%).
One respondent said the impact of lack of support impacted every aspect of their lives.
“Not being able to be who you truly are around the people that you love most or the communities that you’re in is going to make somebody depressed or give them mental issues,” they said in survey interviews, according to Hopelab. “Because if you can’t be who you are around the people that you love most and people who surround you, you’re not gonna be able to feel the best about your well-being.”
Respondents said connecting with those online communities saved their lives.
“Throughout my entire life, I have been bullied relentlessly. However, when I’m online, I find that it is easier to make friends… I met my best friend through role play [games],” one teen told researchers. “Without it, I wouldn’t be here today. So, in the long run, it’s the friendships I’ve made online that have kept me alive all these years.”
Having support in rural areas, especially, can provide rural LGBTQ+ teens with a feeling of belonging, researchers said.
“Our findings highlight the urgent need for safe, affirming in-person spaces and the importance of including young people in shaping the solutions,” Claudia-Santi F. Fernandes, vice president of research and evaluation at Born This Way Foundation, said in a statement. “If we want to improve outcomes, especially for LGBTQ+ young people in rural communities, their voices–and scientific evidence–must guide the work.”
Parent said the survey respondents stressed the importance of having safe spaces for LGBTQ+ young people to gather in their own communities.
“I think most of the participants recognize that you can’t do a lot to change your family if they’re not supportive,” he said. “What they were saying was that finding ways for schools to be supportive and for communities to be supportive in terms of physical spaces (that allowed them) to express themselves safely (and) having places where they can gather and feel safe, uh, were really important to them.”
Hopelab seeks to address mental health in young people through evidence-based innovation, according to its organizers. The Born This Way Foundation was co-founded by Lady Gaga and her mother, West Virginia native Cynthia Bisset Germanotta.
The organization is focused on ending bullying and building up communities, while using research, programming, grants, and partnerships to engage young people and connect them to mental health resources, according to the foundation’s website.
This article first appeared on The Daily Yonder and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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In rural parts of the U.S., 36 percent of jobs that pay enough for an individual to be self-sufficient require at least a bachelor’s degree, yet only 25 percent of rural workers hold such degrees. Many rural communities do not have a university or four-year college nearby. As a result, students in these communities are likely to start their educational journey to a bachelor’s at a community college. Of the nearly 1,000 community colleges nationwide, more than a quarter are in rural areas and many others are designated as rural-serving.
The paths to a bachelor’s degree for rural students are not as straightforward as they are for students in urban or suburban areas with higher concentrations of four-year institutions. For rural community college students, there are four primary routes to earning a bachelor’s degree. As described below, the first three, more conventional, paths do not always work well. But there is also a fourth path—the community college bachelor’s degree program. While still relatively rare, this path is growing in popularity because, when well designed, it is effective in enabling place-bound students to earn bachelor’s degrees and secure good jobs in their communities.
The first path is to transfer to a four-year college and either become a residential student there or commute a long distance to get back and forth to campus from home. Laramie County Community College, where one of us is president, has worked with the University of Wyoming, the state’s only university, located in Laramie, to develop guaranteed transfer pathways to UW bachelor’s programs in major fields of economic importance to the region and state.
But only a minority of LCCC students—mostly younger students who have financial support from their families—can realistically afford to become full-time residential students at UW. Most community college students have jobs and families they can’t leave for several months a year, even if they could afford room and board in addition to tuition (which few can). Commuting to UW is difficult even for LCCC students who live in relatively nearby Cheyenne, almost an hour’s drive from Laramie on a road that crosses the highest point on the Continental Divide and is often closed in the winter. For LCCC students who live in outlying areas and for students at other Wyoming community colleges, commuting to UW is not realistic.
Theoretically, this should be an effective option for rural, place-bound community college students. In reality, this avenue is not feasible for the many rural students who live in “digital deserts” or face “last-mile” barriers to broadband access.
Even when internet access is not a problem, many students struggle to complete online programs. Only a quarter of community college students who transfer to online universities complete a bachelor’s degree within four years of transferring. This compares to 57 percent of community college starters who transfer to a public four-year institution. In general, undergraduates who take all their courses online are less likely to succeed than those who take just some courses online. And online success rates are especially low for low-income students, those from other underserved groups or those who face other challenges typical in rural areas, such as limited access to transportation and childcare.
The third path is for students to take upper-division coursework through a university center arrangement, where the four-year university has a physical presence on the community college campus. These arrangements vary in design but typically involve university faculty teaching courses on the community college campus. While reasonable in concept, university centers are often challenging to operate. Beyond common issues of ownership, oversight and authority associated with programs run by two separate institutions, in rural colleges, such programs also often do not enroll enough students to make it worth the investment by the university and thus are difficult to sustain, financially and politically.
That leaves community college bachelor’s degree programs, which are often the best option for rural students. Research indicates that these programs not only provide effective access to bachelor’s programs for older working students with families and others who are place-bound but also enable these students to secure good jobs.
Some question whether community colleges should offer bachelor’s degrees, arguing that they duplicate university offerings and represent a form of mission creep. But community college bachelor’s degrees tend to be unlike conventional bachelor’s degrees from universities. First, they are explicitly designed as applied credentials to meet specific regional workforce needs. In the best cases, community college bachelor’s degrees are reverse-engineered collaboratively with employers to meet these needs.
Second, they are also often designed to help the many applied associate degree graduates of community colleges find a more effective path to completing a bachelor’s degree, in which their applied coursework is built upon, not disregarded. Finally, they are delivered at home so that graduates of community colleges who are tied to their local area can advance into family-supporting jobs. They are offered through institutions that most students are already familiar with and by people with whom students already have relationships.
For example, LCCC offers a bachelor’s of applied science in health-care administration, with accelerated eight-week courses, offered at convenient times and through a combination of online and in-person modalities. The program is designed to provide the many working health-care clinicians with applied associate degrees (e.g., nurses, sonographers, radiology techs, etc.) a path to management jobs. This program was developed collaboratively with numerous health-care employers to address the strong demand for talent in health-care administration and provide their employees with a viable path to a bachelor’s degree, without requiring them to start over or relocate to another community.
The number of bachelor’s degrees awarded by community colleges nationally is still small: fewer than 17,000 annually, compared to more than 1.3 million awarded by public universities. Still, policymakers in a growing number of states are recognizing that rural community colleges are well positioned to meet the needs of students and employers for workforce bachelor’s programs not available from other providers. Currently, community colleges in 24 states are authorized to offer bachelor’s degrees in particular fields, yet the majority (nearly 80 percent) of these colleges are located in just seven states. Thus, there is plenty of room to grow. Bachelor’s programs offered by rural community colleges provide a model for what we hope is becoming a national movement to rethink bachelor’s education for the large number of place-bound students who must work and care for their families but need a bachelor’s degree to advance in their careers.

I recently stood before hundreds of young people in California’s Central Valley; more than 60 percent were on that day becoming the first in their family to earn a bachelor’s degree.
Their very presence at University of California, Merced’s spring commencement ceremony disrupted a major narrative in our nation about who college is for — and the value of a degree.
Many of these young people arrived already balancing jobs, caregiving responsibilities and family obligations. Many were Pell Grant-eligible and came from communities that are constantly underestimated and where a higher education experience is a rarity.
These students graduated college at a critical moment in American history: a time when the value of a bachelor’s degree is being called into question, when public trust in higher education is vulnerable and when supports for first-generation college students are eroding. Yet an affordable bachelor’s degree remains the No. 1 lever for financial, professional and social mobility in this country.
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A recent Gallup poll showed that the number of Americans who have a great deal of confidence in higher education is dwindling, with a nearly equal amount responding that they have little to none. In 2015, when Gallup first asked this question, those expressing confidence outnumbered those without by nearly six to one.
There is no doubt that higher education must continue to evolve — to be more accessible, more relevant and more affordable — but the impact of a bachelor’s degree remains undeniable.
And the bigger truth is this: America’s long-term strength — its economic competitiveness, its innovation pipeline, its social fabric — depends on whether we invest in the education of the young people who reflect the future of this country.
There are many challenges for today’s workforce, from a shrinking talent pipeline to growing demands in STEM, healthcare and the public sector. These challenges can’t be solved unless we ensure that more first-generation students and those from underserved communities earn their degrees in affordable ways and leverage their strengths in ways they feel have purpose.
Those of us in education must create conditions in which students’ talent is met with opportunity and higher education institutions demonstrate that they believe in the potential of every student who comes to their campuses to learn.
UC Merced is a fantastic example of what this can look like. The youngest institution in the University of California system, it was recently designated a top-tier “R1” research university. At the same time, it earned a spot on Carnegie’s list of “Opportunity Colleges and Universities,” a new classification that recognizes institutions based on the success of their students and alumni. It is one of only 21 institutions in the country to be nationally ranked for both elite research and student success and is proving that excellence and equity can — and must — go hand in hand.
In too many cases, students who make it to college campuses are asked to navigate an educational experience that wasn’t built with their lived experiences and dreams in mind. In fact, only 24 percent of first-generation college students earn a bachelor’s degree in six years, compared to nearly 59 percent of students who have a parent with a bachelor’s. This results in not just a missed opportunity for individual first-generation students — it’s a collective loss for our country.
Related: To better serve first-generation students, expand the definition
The graduates I spoke to in the Central Valley that day will become future engineers, climate scientists, public health leaders, artists and educators. Their bachelor’s degrees equip them with critical thinking skills, confidence and the emotional intelligence needed to lead in an increasingly complex world.
Their future success will be an equal reflection of their education and the qualities they already possess as first-generation college graduates: persistence, focus and unwavering drive. Because of this combination, they will be the greatest contributors to the future of work in our nation.
This is a reality I know well. As the Brooklyn-born daughter of Dominican immigrants, I never planned to go away from home to a four-year college. My father drove a taxi, and my mother worked in a factory. I was the first in my family to earn a bachelor’s degree. I attended college as part of an experimental program to get kids from neighborhoods like mine into “top” schools. When it was time for me to leave for college, my mother and I boarded a bus with five other students and their moms for a 26-hour ride to Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee.
Like so many first-generation college students, I carried with me the dreams and sacrifices of my family and community. I had one suitcase, a box of belongings and no idea what to expect at a place I’d never been to before. That trip — and the bachelor’s degree I earned — changed the course of my life.
First-generation college students from underserved communities reflect the future of America. Their success is proof that the American Dream is not only alive but thriving. And right now, the stakes are national, and they are high.
That is why we must collectively remove the obstacles to first-generation students’ individual success and our collective success as a nation. That’s the narrative that we need to keep writing — together.
Shirley M. Collado is president emerita at Ithaca College and the president and CEO of College Track, a college completion program dedicated to democratizing potential among first-generation college students from underserved communities.
Contact the opinion editor at [email protected].
This story about first-generation students was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.

By mirroring gender pay gap reporting, which was made mandatory in 2018, the Equality (Race and Disability) Bill would introduce mandatory ethnicity and disability pay gap reporting for large employers with 250 or more employers.
In his foreword to the consultation on introduction of the Bill, the Minister for Social Security and Disability Stephen Timms notes that the UK is far away from achieving its goal of creating a more equal society in which people can thrive whatever their background. According to the Office for National Statistics, the current ethnicity pay gap in the UK ranges from 1.9 per cent to 9.7 per cent, depending on ethnicity and if individuals were born in the UK.
Diving into the data, we were concerned to find that no progress has been made in reducing the median gross hourly pay gap for Black, African, Caribbean or Black British employees compared to white employees, remaining “consistent since 2012”. The disability pay gap is even more pronounced, at 12.7 per cent, having remained “relatively stable since 2014.” The lack of progress in closing these pay gaps is as concerning as the lack of awareness of the problem.
Conversely, the practice of gender pay gap reporting will have contributed to the gender pay gap declining by approximately a quarter among full-time employees over the past decade. Greater transparency helped build the foundations for positive transformation, creating a strategic imperative to root out systemic inequalities and leading to many employers developing, and proactively publishing, action plans to close the gap within their organisations.
In pursuing the noble aim of creating a more equal – and socially cohesive – society, the same focus must now be placed on tackling racial and disability inequalities. Economic inequalities between ethnic groups are an important contributor to social unrest.
The government should be supported in its proposed introduction of the Equality (Race and Disability) Bill and, speaking as vice chancellor of Birmingham City University (BCU), David would encourage fellow higher education leaders to join him in lending our public support to the government for this proposal.
There are two key reasons for higher education institutions publicising their ethnicity pay gaps in particular: to build trust with their internal community, and to strengthen authentically social cohesiveness in their local communities.
BCU’s new strategy articulates a clear commitment to improve the diversity of our organisation at all levels and eradicate pay gaps. The first step in this will be to publish all our pay gaps with a clear plan to close them by 2030.
There are persistent racial inequalities in higher education. This is demonstrated most evidently in awarding gaps for ethnic minority students and Black students achieving a good honours degrees compared to white students, at 14.1 per cent and 21.6 per cent respectively in 2024. A lack of representation of ethnic minority staff in senior positions also conveys persistent inequities. Ethnic minorities now comprise one in three undergraduate students, but only one in four (20.2 per cent) of academic staff. Their representation is even lower among professors (15.1 per cent), senior managers (9.1 per cent) and executives (7 per cent).
The picture is more concerning in terms of Black representation in higher education. One in ten undergraduate students is Black (9.6 per cent), but only one in every roughly 27 academics share their ethnic identity. Only 1.6 per cent of all professors are black and 0.7 per cent of executives.
In contrast to the gender pay gap, information on the ethnicity pay gap in higher education is not routinely published. Combined with the lack of proportional representation of ethnic minority staff in senior positions, the lack of published data and strategy to tackle pay gaps has caused many staff to lose trust in institutional leadership and its commitment to tackle racial inequalities. The Equality (Race and Disability) Bill would bring parity with mandatory gender pay gap reporting and offer greater transparency to our communities.
For reference, the median gender pay gap across higher education institutions, which stands at 11.9 per cent, reduced by 4.4 percentage points since reporting began in 2017.
Universities play a crucial role in shaping their localities and are increasingly active in strengthening social cohesion – our institutions allow (mostly) young people to study in diverse settings, enable better understanding of different cultures, encourage active citizenship, and develop graduates who are more likely to show concern over racism, be more positive towards immigration, and less likely to view feminism as harmful. Our social mobility missions break cycles of poverty, research and innovation activities drive productivity, and graduates sustain vital public services.
Working effectively with our diverse local communities necessitates trust and the transparent reporting of systemic racial inequalities is paramount. For BCU, this means better reflecting and working in partnership with a community in which no ethnic group has a majority; the 2021 census identified that Birmingham’s population is more than twice as likely to come from an ethnic minority than the overall population in England. 51.4 per cent of people living in Birmingham are from an ethnic minority group, compared to a national average in England of 19 per cent. The data is much more profound for Ladywood, the constituency in which BCU’s city centre campus is based. Here, more than three in four (76.6 per cent) come from an ethnic minority, with the greater proportions of Asian (38.6 per cent) and Black (25.9 per cent) than White (23.4 per cent) citizens.
Birmingham’s “super-diversity” is seen as one of its biggest strengths, the city council opining that it stems from the city’s long-standing history for welcoming people from around the world. However, we must recognise that challenges persist, most notably in terms of engendering social harmony and tackling inequality. Those two challenges are interlinked: social harmony rests on our different racial and ethnic groups feeling valued and having trust in their local institutions providing equal opportunities and equitable outcomes, regardless of background.
Our 2030 strategy sets out a clear vision to be an exemplar anchor institution by 2030. This vision was co-created with representatives from our communities, who recognise and value the crucial role that universities like ours play in their locality. Our strategy explicitly recognises the responsibility we have in strengthening social cohesion in our home city of Birmingham.
From speaking with many vice chancellors, I know that we at BCU are not alone in championing our civic mission. Notwithstanding this, until we collective publish data on ethnicity pay gaps – alongside action plans to overcome these – our sector may find it difficult to build and sustain trust with our diverse internal and external communities. The Equality (Race and Disability) Bill offers a timely opportunity for our sector to demonstrate its commitment to racial justice.
My fellow vice-chancellors would do well in voicing their support through this government consultation.