Pause and Reflect

All people of colour have been oppressed, but not all to the same degree. This is something I have been thinking a lot about. In my life, I have faced structural racism. I have faced individual racism. I have watched racism tear at the seams of my family. Yet, I have never feared for my life at the hands of the police. Black communities across the world face oppression like no other community of colour. But how did we get here and why does it take something like this before we start to address the implicit part non-Black communities of colour have played in this system? Thinking this through, my mind has gone back to colonial times and my family's history. Like many others, my family is Indian origin, but from East Africa. In the early 20th century, the British East Africa Protectorate was created using citizens from other British colonies. We became agents of the colony. They placed Indians in the likes of administration, police and army positions across East Africa to help to kee...

When I decided to quit my banking job and forge a new path, there was one thing on my mind: my privilege . Privilege is a funny thing. We know it exists, but it's often hard to fully appreciate. As a first generation, British-born Indian who has been privately school educated, I cannot refute my privilege. If the chips had fallen slightly differently for my grandfather, or for my parents, then who knows where I would be right now. Maybe I would just be another child in a rural village in India fighting against restrictive gender social norms? Recognising this privilege is what drove me to make a wholesale change in my life. However, as I now travel around some of the world's poorest places, listening to the stories and perspectives of the world's most vulnerable people, I am struggling to balance the recognition of my privilege with the guilt of it. Last week, I was wandering through the narrow streets of Kenya's slums, carefully navigating a path between the corru...

The sun starts to seep through the windows of my room. I slowly inch open my eyes and, as I start to regain my senses, I realise that I'm not waking up in the comfort of my London flat. There is no luxurious duvet keeping me warm. No soft carpet to cushion my feet when I stand. Instead, I awake and see that I'm encapsulated by a very small mosquito net, scattered with holes, which negates the point of using the net in the first place, but the thought of some sort of protection, despite its flaws, still provides me with a sense of security. I fumble my way out of the bed and search for my flip flops to provide some respite from stepping onto the cold, concrete floor. I look out at the room and see the boxes which clutter my room, behind which I am certain I have some sort of lizard room mate, based on the sounds I remember hearing throughout the night. I scutter over to the corner of the room and grab my wash bag and some clothes from the temporary table I have made using one of...

I have never really been an avid reality TV follower. Ask me to name all of the Kardashians and I would struggle. And don't even bother asking me anything about Love Island. Ask me about one of my favourite music artists, however, and I'll know all of the latest gossip and releases. I'll sit through the Grammys and read every online review of the performances of artists I like. Whoever you are, there is some form of entertainment that interests you and you will follow it intently. Being entertained is a crucial part of our society. It allows us to escape the reality of our day and focus on something else for a while. This isn't a new concept. Think back to Medieval Times and the involvement of jesters at large banquets. We have always had a desire to be regaled. As I look around now, though, I wonder if our society is facing the consequences of putting too much emphasis on entertainment. To put this in context, a jester in Medieval Times would not have been paid incred...

The more I travel the world, the more I realise how special London is as a city. I love the beauty of the place. The way that the streets of London carry stories from days gone by. It's easy to picture the horse drawn carriages which used to ride down Park Lane, or to see the darkness in East London's once gang ruled streets. There is a history that lives through every nook and cranny of this city. What really makes this place special, though, is not the history, but the diversity that currently ripples through it. Whichever tube line, bus, or road you walk to get to work in the morning, there are people of all genders, all nationalities, all ethnicities, all sexualities. London is a diversity champion. And I love it. Diversity has become one of those buzz words everyone loves to use these days, but do any of us really think about why it has become an echelon of success? Why is this something companies are constantly seeking? I am fortunate to lead a diverse team. I have men,...

I don't think that I will ever forget the 2015 photograph of 3 year old Alan Kurdi's body laid out across a Turkish beach, following his family's failed attempt to reach European shores from Syria. It is a haunting image of the consequences of desperation to reach a better life. More recently, it has been difficult to watch some of the emotionally charged videos of children being reunited with their parents on the American border, after their families were torn apart when they illegally entered the United States. The immigration debate is in full force across the Western world. In Europe, Italy's new, right-leaning government are the first to close their shores to migrant ships. In the US, the debate that started with the deportation of Dreamers has since turned into the morality of detention centres, filled with Latin American children caged and crying out for their parents. Whichever way you slice it, it is hard to recognise this world in which we now live. Once...