There is a wider socio-political context to vaccine hesitancy which has not been acknowledged by our professional bodies, government, or most of the media. The mandating of Covid vaccines for NHS workers in England is a highly political act and will disproportionally affect People of the Global Majority*. 

We write this statement to oppose the mandatory vaccination of NHS workers. 

In doing so, we aim to promote understanding of and to stand in solidarity with our colleagues who have declined the vaccine and now face losing their careers. We call on our elected representatives in government and on our professional bodies to take a stand against yet another example of structural racism.

Several studies have examined reasons for SARS-CoV-2 vaccine hesitancy in People of the Global Majority. To summarise, these include:

1. Lack of trust in institutions (such as the government and employers)
2. A history of unethical research in People of the Global Majority
3. Under-representation of People of the Global Majority in vaccine studies
4. Previous negative and discriminatory experiences in healthcare
5. Confusing and conflicting information. For example, participants in one study cited changing guidance, overwhelming amounts of information and poor provision of information in languages other than English. 

These influences intersect with other factors, including socio-economic status and access to resources. More broadly, People of the Global Majority have a collective history of lack of autonomy over their own bodies and of their bodies being abused by people in power. 

For all these reasons, it is entirely understandable that rates of vaccine acceptance are lower in People of the Global Majority (at the same time it should be noted that there is heterogeneity across groups).

Almost a year ago the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) published guidance about how governments can enhance public trust in Covid-19 vaccination.  This includes: 

• communicating clearly
• engaging and working with communities when developing their vaccine strategies
• fostering trust in institutions by treating citizens consistently and fairly; demonstrating the values of integrity, community engagement and fairness are seen to be key in engendering trust.  

Social cohesion is undermined when citizens feel unfairly treated, and makes it less likely that people will “co-operate” [their words]; thus it seems reasonable to infer that the introduction of a vaccine mandate in one sector (NHS and social care staff in England) that discriminates against People of the Global Majority is likely to impact negatively on the trust the wider community has in government, and make it less likely that some of this community will consider vaccination themselves. 

Indeed, an unpublished survey by researchers at the London School of Economics and Political Science found that policies such as mandatory vaccination would, in some people, fuel distrust and further reduce the likelihood of them accepting the vaccine3. 

Dr Hans Kluge, the Europe Director of the World Health Organisation recently stated that mandating vaccines should only be used as “an absolute last resort”, stressing the importance of engaging with the community first.

Instead of demonstrating any understanding of factors that influence decision-making and behaviour, politicians and the media simply talk about the burden on hospitals caused by “selfish” unvaccinated people, and about “anti-vaxxers”. Such talk from influential sources risks exacerbating stigma and overt racism towards People of the Global Majority. 

The impact of mandatory vaccination on individuals and the NHS in England will be great. For individuals who decline the vaccine, the impact of a loss of career cannot be overstated. For an already-stretched NHS with many thousands of unfilled vacancies, the impact on patient care of fewer staff will be significant and cause reductions in services. This will disproportionately, once again, affect People of the Global Majority and will widen existing health inequalities. 

An NHS that has shown itself to be hostile towards People of the Global Majority through the implementation of this mandate will face even great difficulty recruiting in future. Service users will, understandably, be even more likely to regard healthcare services as untrustworthy and racist.

These effects will be exacerbated by the speed at which the policy is being implemented at a time of intense pressure on the NHS. Many NHS managers and colleagues in England are describing the distress they feel in having to implement this policy and under such a tight deadline when they are already experiencing heightened levels of stress and pressure. ​

What happens after the momentum of a social movement has peaked? In any movement cycle, there will be periods of engaged activism, and periods when those involved can pause and reflect on progress made, lessons learned, and re-inspire each other. On 26th October, PSC's Anti-Racism Working Group hosted an event to reflect on our collective journey against racism. We shared stories and ideas to inspire us, bring hope, spread awareness and create joy. 

The Hope and Solidarity event was an open, inclusive, relaxed session with attendees from across the UK and different PSC groups. The event hoped to create a space to come together to hear about anti-racism work that has gone well in order to be inspired and increase motivation and momentum to more longer-term sustainable anti-racism work. We hoped too it would join together people to form a network or coalition of like-minded people engaged in anti-racism work. Finally, we hoped to create a space to reflect on where we are now (individually and collectively) in relation to anti-racism energy and activity.

After opening to 'The Revolution Will not be Televised' by Gil Scott-Heron, we began looking at the movement cycle. We considered how after the uprising and peak of the anti-racism movement in Spring 2020, we were now in a contraction and evolution phases, hence the need for learning and reflection. 

Before the event, we invited people to share creative pieces that have brought inspiration and joy. These were collated and can be accessed here. During the event, we shared a compilation of some of the artwork, poems, videos, songs and other media that have brought inspiration along this journey of resistance, and you can watch this below. ​

 
Before going into breakout groups, we started with a reflection on dynamics within conversations and how whiteness can operate unconsciously, and the importance of making it conscious and thinking about who’s talking and what’s being centred in conversations.

We also acknowledged the importance of being mindful that these conversations can feel challenging, and how the challenges are different for people racialised in different ways. We intended to help make the spaces as safe as possible, especially for people racialised as people of colour, and also a brave space, where we can share our thoughts from a place of awareness. 

With this in mind, we explored several questions in break-out groups including:

• “What are your hopes for how we move from contraction to evolution in our anti-racist work?”
• “How do we build on the actions and inspirations we have experienced today to long-term and sustainable ongoing anti-racism work?

Finally we ended by asking participants to fill in a mentimeter on what has stayed with you / inspired you / take away? (see below).

Details to join the group TBC

Author
Harry Leitch works within Camden and Islington NHS Trust as an Assistant Psychologist. Passionate about perspectives that understand mental health within its socio-political context, they joined Psychologists for Social Change in 2019. They also campaign for Keep Our NHS Public and the Socialist Health Alliance. ​

The Political Context

2020-2021 has undoubtedly been a year of both forward movement for trans rights and aggressive backlash against this. Advances have been made internationally against conversion therapy -- the practice of coercively attempting to change an individual’s sexual orientation or gender identity. 

Meanwhile, in December 2020 the UK High Court ruled that children under 16 years old could not consent to ‘puberty blockers’, which delay the onset of puberty to allow trans-identified youth time to explore gender identity and expression, and any possible further transition. This ruling has been condemned as denying young people’s right to make decisions about their own medical care, as set out in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child and the Gillick competence principle, which operates across a wide range of health and social care practices and supports young people’s right to make decisions where they are deemed competent to do so. Whilst a partial easement was made in March 2021 -- with the High Court handing down a judgment that parents can consent on behalf of their child for hormone treatment -- the original ruling remains in place. 

Trans youth continue to face obstacles to care and distressing delays in access to treatment (sometimes over two years for a first appointment). The Tavistock Gender Identity Service (GIDS) has faced criticisms from both trans-affirming and ‘gender-critical’ groups and increasing scrutiny from the media. This group is aware that clinicians at GIDS face personal attacks, including death threats, threats of personal litigation, and fear of being ‘outed’ in their own gender identity.

Transgender people across the world face attacks from numerous angles, including politically motivated attacks, rollbacks of civil and human rights, neglectful and obstructive healthcare systems, physical and emotional violence, and the disproportionate impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. At the same time, London saw thousands of protestors take to the streets for Black Trans Lives Matter during the pandemic, and there is -- after years of marginalisation -- a sense of rallying behind trans people by the LGBTQ+ community in rejection of continued assaults from minority transphobic Gay and Lesbian groups.

Debate and polarisation in wider society has been reflected within the health professions, including psychology, with prominent names in clinical psychology writing ‘gender critical’ opinion pieces in psychology publications and academic journals (which we will not link to and bring more attention to here), with heated back and forth commentary. This piece is not intended to contribute to the debates around the lives of transgender individuals, but to provide a forum to share and raise awareness of the emotional impact of these discussions.

(​Single quotation marks have been used to indicate 'gender critical' as a contested term. See article.)

​
Sophie 

What is it like to be a queer clinical psychologist? I don’t pretend to speak for all queer psychologists, but for myself the experience is one of pain and exhaustion.
Clinical Psychology often feels like more than just a job – it’s not something that switches off when you get home (in pre-covid times at least). Whilst I do not expect all clinical psychologists to hold the same views, I would hope that we can all stand by values surrounding offering respect, empowering others and fostering growth. 

Though we often consider ourselves a ‘questioning’ profession, we do so with empathy and an interest to better understand others’ perspectives. With this in mind, I have personally found it very jarring to see some of the views shared within clinical psychology about transgender people, particularly from those in leadership positions who have a considerable platform to influence others.

Often, discussions about transgender issues can become fraught over points about what is or is not transphobic. We know from recent advances in our understanding of other forms of discrimination, such as sexism and racism, that biases often exist at an unconscious level. 

Transphobia maintains a power structure where trans people are treated as ‘less than’, compared to cisgendered people. Transphobia is not always the outright espousal of anti-trans views, it can be more subtle than that. Transphobia is present in any assumption that to be transgender is ‘worse’ than being cisgender, and that to be exposed to or have to share a space with someone who is transgender can cause harm.

Health services for gender diverse people, including those within the NHS, are certainly not beyond discussion. Many transgender people themselves would agree that these services have room to improve. 

However, I think it is important to be mindful of when academic discussion of these services begins to question the identities and perspectives of transgender people themselves. Also when these particular services are ‘critiqued’ with a much greater frequency and intensity than others you have to stand back and wonder what else is taking place here, and whose views and narratives are being privileged over others. 

Gender is not a ‘banned’ topic for discussion -- many trans people and their allies are also interested in deconstructing the concept of gender -- but again we need to be careful of when our discussion begins to invalidate others. 

For many of us, these issues are not just professional issues to be ‘debated’, but deeply personal issues that affect us and those around us.
Seeing certain views expressed within clinical psychology (CP) makes me question whether I will be accepted in CP spaces, and makes me feel hesitant about being open about my own identity. Trans clients often report very negative experiences with health services and are over-represented in mental health services relative to their small population numbers. 

It is concerning to think that some psychologists will be taking these negative views and ideas into the clinic room with them. I also think of trans members of our profession, who may feel particularly alienated and unsupported. As we look to increase diversity in the impression, this gives a worrying signal to those joining the profession who are gender diverse.

Seeing posts about transgender issues in clinical psychology social media groups brings up strong emotions. I feel frustrated by the skew in the information posted about transgender people, with little positive and empowering content shared on platforms such as Facebook and Twitter. These groups and profiles reach thousands of psychologists across the country and for many are a key way of interacting with their professional community, sharing resources and learning. CP training courses often cover little material, if any on gender diversity, so for many psychologists, online groups alongside mass media will be their only exposure to these topics. 

From experience I know that for those who have trans experience themselves, or work with transgender populations, there is a feeling of inhibition to post and take on the negative comments that often follow. It is telling that some queer psychologists have felt the need to create separate online spaces, in a large to explore our own reactions to watching the proliferation of anti-trans psychological content. 

We do not all need to agree, but when many people are expressing that they find certain material hurtful and discriminatory, is there not some responsibility to listen and try to understand why this is felt?
I am also very mindful of psychology’s dark and troubled history regarding the treatment of oppressed groups. Some of the debates being had currently echo discussions from only a few decades ago about whether children might be being encouraged to think that they are gay, the threat of violence from gay men, the idea that a gay identity might be formulated as a form of repression or trauma response. We now consider these ideas abhorrent, but these were mainstream ideas in psychology in the not too distant past. 

We are all undoubtedly influenced by the environment around us and we are all learning, but I think it is important to consider how you might look back on your current views and practices, and whether they will seem defendable.
 

Frankie
As a queer, cis-gender woman and clinical psychologist, I have experienced an increasing sense of discomfort and alienation at the discussions within clinical psychology around best practice for working with transgender people, which I have been trying to reflect on and interrogate. 

Why do comments around “formulating” transgender identity (e.g., the ‘causal’ role of trauma, ASD, parental projections in ‘becoming’ transgender) feel so uncomfortable to me? I recognise that this comes from parallels in how psychology and other health professionals have historically responded to sexual orientation – as something to be “explained” and possibly “treated” to allow people to “fit” more comfortably within society from the perspective of the dominant position. 

The underlying assumption appears to be that diversity needs a causal explanation and that preventing diversity (or creating normality) is preferable.
Why do all the calls for freedom of speech and the importance of debate leave me frustrated and suspicious? Because again, as a woman and queer person, I am aware of how ‘science’ and ‘debate’ has been abused by prevailing institutions of power to maintain the status quo (think about “scientific” enquiry into whether women are intelligent enough to vote as one example) and how without diverse perspectives this ‘science’ will likely remain fraught with biases and unexamined assumptions.

Finally, why do I feel resistance to the narratives around “protection” (e.g., of children, women, trauma-survivors, people with ASD)? Because the idea of “protection” has long been used and weaponised by dominant power structures to maintain control or whip up fear about an ‘other’, often based on unjustified assumptions and prejudices (think about associations made about gay people and paedophilia, to name one abhorrent example). Who is really being protected? By whom? For what purpose? For what reason? And has the group that is being protected asked for this?

I recognise that sexuality and gender identity are not the same and perhaps comparing societal reactions misses the nuances involved. But perhaps history is repeating itself with the next “yet to be fully understood and accepted” aspect of the beautifully diverse species that are human beings.  If so, it is all of our responsibilities to listen, learn, and support the fight for gender equality for all. 


Nisha
As a cisgender queer person of colour it is dismaying and worrying to see history repeat itself in our profession. Seeing members of our psychology community, particularly those working with the most vulnerable in our communities, perpetuate harmful narratives about trans people and pushing to deny them gender affirmative care is deeply concerning. 

I hoped that we, at last, were starting to move beyond having a gatekeeping role for legitimising trans and non binary identities, to a more open, supportive relationship where people could explore their gender identity and whatever other struggles they might be facing (relating to their identity and not) safely and with positive regard. That is our core mission isn't it? To give people opportunity for safety and self-expression insofar as they are not abusive towards others or at immediate risk to themselves?

It worries me that the opposition to this stems from poorly conducted research and individual case studies. We need more research into the health needs of trans people, including youth, but that requires proper funding and resources. It does not need bitter acrimony and I would rather we paid attention to the needs of the people before us, rather than thinking we know better than they do what their gender identity is or ought to be. I had a conversation about this with another queer cis psychologist of colour and they had this to add:

"I find it really disheartening that people who should be trained to be curious and exploratory - and frankly should know better as a result -are relinquishing the opportunity to work with others on their liberation. For some reason, they’re not willing to look deeper into the worlds and feelings of people who are confined to the bodies they are not sure they belong in, but instead look to attack those people who need assistance to unlock themselves from an incongruent way of living. 

Hiding behind their own feelings, without deeper exploration of their upset, hurt and anger, they lash out and use a biological essentialist argument - which we know not to be true - in the pursuit of binaries that hold no space for atypically biological and gendered people (as opposed to typically male and female bodies.)

I find it sad that, from what I can understand, these attacks and inability to see the humanity in others comes from a place of relative privilege and an unwillingness to help one's fellow human into being, less it diminishes their own relative position in a social hierarchy. I suppose it’s hard to acknowledge one's own sense of suffering and dare I say, identification with oppression, so it becomes easier to form feelings against that - to other oneself from that pain."

These are strong words I know, but these practices have very real and lived consequences for the trans and non-binary people I know, love and respect. They also have very real consequences for the likes of me. Seeing some of the arguments against inclusion of trans people in safe spaces by certain high-profile psychologists and their invalidation of diverse gender identities remind me of the heterosexist behaviour I have long put up with on my way in to the profession, which led me to hide myself for the sake of self-preservation. That can be exhausting and I can see things that I have learned from inclusive and kind queer spaces that I have been privileged to be part of, which I use to help people as a psychologist. I would love to share that with others in the fields I work in and collaborate with them to create practices and spaces that are even better. 

However, this kind of behaviour leads me to feel a bit vulnerable and I find myself testing the waters to know if I am safe to bring that experience in and to honour those that have worked so hard to create such lovely spaces that I have learned from in the first place. I do not think this dilemma should be necessary for me to navigate and I think it contributes to the pathologisation of queer communities.

Some of the arguments also remind me of how psychology as a profession has actively harmed lesbian, gay and bisexual people; professionals thinking they know that someone is 'really' gay (or not) and deciding for them that it would be in their 'best interests' to make them straight. At times, mental health professionals still conflate sexual minority identity with mental illness and it does feel like transphobia is the acceptable face of prejudice towards queer people. I am wary of the harm that we can cause, even unwittingly, and strive to address this. 

Thankfully the people I work with closely do care and strive to do better, but it does not take much to make careless comments and that can make a huge impact on trust and willingness to engage. This is particularly so amongst trans youth of colour, who may be most likely to become homeless and least likely to get gender affirming care, even as things stand.

We have righted some wrongs, by banning conversion therapy (eventually) and recognising structural disadvantage. However, we can be infected by fear and prejudice as much as any of the people we strive to help. We can also be silent and complicit in the oppression of marginalised groups and it is important we speak up. It's important we continue to address cisnormativity and heteronormativity in our services and appreciate that we as queer people are looking for cues to indicate that the people we work with and go to for support will affirm and support us sensitively and effectively. 

I'm not just speaking for the sake of clients here, but for us as LGBT+ psychologists in the profession. We will all make mistakes and it is important that we are able to address them kindly and compassionately in good faith, but in the context of escalating transphobia they can become more loaded and this gets harder to do. So this is ultimately written in the hope that we can move beyond this and continue making positive progress.


Robin
As a queer, gender-questioning person and clinical psychologist, I’ve felt increasingly alienated, disaffected and disillusioned by repeated transphobic perspectives being shared within clinical psychology and how this is being tolerated and platformed within the profession. 

Individuals continue to defend their views as not transphobic, whilst ignoring trans people’s own definitions of what constitutes transphobia and their lived experience of it.
I have withdrawn from online psychology spaces that I used to participate in for fear of reading more transphobic posts where fellow psychologists are either in agreement or are silent in response. It’s disturbing to see views being expressed which would be immediately flagged for moderation in other online spaces that I participate in, which are not exclusively LGBTQ+, but which are thoughtful about the experiences of marginalised folks and are trauma-informed. What is different about these other online communities that clinical psychologists are missing the boat on? Are we even aware of just how short we are falling from the mark?

Clinical psychology has been more than a job for me, it has felt like an important aspect of my identity and bridges the personal and professional. Many of us feel called to the profession for deeply personal reasons. It is disorientating to feel such a clash in my identity. 

As a queer person, I have begun to feel conflicted about my membership of a profession in which powerful and respected individuals are giving voice to transphobia, unchallenged, especially where some of those individuals inspired and influenced me in my professional journey. I feel great shame about harm being done by fellow clinical psychologists.
As a profession we are very privileged; overwhelmingly white and middle class, typically occupying many axes of privilege. Recently, people have begun to acknowledge and reflect on their white privilege but we don’t seem to be close to reflecting on cis privilege and how that operates. Anti-racist, critical psychology voices have expressed transphobic sentiments. We are still so far from intersectionality. 

It is deflating to see - given our profession’s history in oppressing Black, learning disabled and homosexual people - how our perceived 'expertise', and 'neutral professionalism' continues to blind us and give us a sense that we are an authority to speak on the lives of marginalised people (formulate), othering them in the process. Whilst queer professionals can operate within cisnormativity and cis privilege, we can also bring sensitivity to the topic of gender identity, by reflecting on our own experiences of homophobia.

I am used to struggling with feeling complicit in harmful systems but clinical psychology has been where I feel a kinship in values and allies in change. In particular, critical psychology has felt like an important home and source of allyship, but is now an area where I have begun to feel most unsafe. As a feminist, critical psychologist, it is disturbing to see my beliefs and values twisted to be used against trans people. We need to critique the systems and structures which they are trapped within and must painfully navigate, and affirm their right to live on their own terms.

Trans and gender diverse people are beautiful, which anyone who has spent substantial time in trans communities would know, rather than encountering them solely in clinics, the media, research or academic theory. For LGBTQ+ psychologists, these are not just our service users or 'interesting issues' to debate about; they may be our friends, our family, our partners, us. Trans and gender diverse people have taught me a lot about my own gender. 

We are in the midst of a gender revolution and it has the power to be a beautiful, liberating experience, if we can learn to be humble and open to it.

We are but four queer psychologists from a much wider community and our views and experiences will not reflect all LGBTQ+ psychologists. We invite others, especially trans and gender-diverse people, to share their reflections and experiences in the comments section if they are able and willing to do so.

Understanding and accepting gender diversity as a natural state of being is crucial in protecting the wellbeing and lives of trans and non-binary people.

If you were to write two lists of characteristics headed ‘male’ and ‘female’ (and I would encourage you to do this briefly), we often find these characteristics fall into two extremes. Males are supposedly ‘dominant’, ‘loud’, ‘strong’, ‘rugged’; females by contrast something like ‘passive’, ‘quiet’, ‘sensitive’, ‘warm’, ‘pretty’, ‘small’. We may then ask ourselves, do we fit either of those binaries? Perhaps more importantly, do we know anyone that does?
​
Probably not. However, these stereotypes have the effect that many of us often feel that we are ‘failing’ at our gender. Failing to a woman may mean not feeling attractive enough, petite enough, being unable to carry a child. Men similarly may feel they are not athletic enough, successful enough or they may encounter these feelings through experiencing infertility. Feeling that we do not fit the mould of our gender expectations is not the preserve of people who attend gender clinics and affects most of us at some point. Gender issues exist on a spectrum. And like other issues of intersectionality (race, age, ability), individuals who are unable to entirely fit the cis, white, able-bodied mould are likely to find themselves excluded by mainstream society in one way or another.

We might ask at this point why we as a society should offer gender-affirming surgeries if gender is merely a construct.

1) It is a construct with life altering consequences for how we are treated (by colleagues, family, partners, etc).
2) There are also (in many people) significant embodied experiences which individuals cannot ignore. If health care providers can offer a surgery which supports people and drastically improves the quality of their lives, we should do so.

In their book ‘trans like me’, C.N. Lester describes embodied experiences as a proprioceptive sensation (our sense of where our body is in space- e.g being able to touch our own nose), but the expected organ not being there, almost like a phantom limb. The tragic case of David Reimer further demonstrates the knowledge our own bodies hold of what they should be. His penis was removed by accident during a circumcision and he was raised as a girl, but identified as male from the age of 7. The case suggests that keeping someone locked in the gender they do not identify with is futile and morally reprehensible.

It helps to think of trans as a natural state, similar to pregnancy, which may require medical or surgical intervention (although in many cases trans people do not require medical intervention). The treatment of trans individuals has parallels with that of non-heterosexual individuals historically. We would not now ask a non-heterosexual person detailed questions about ‘why?’, ‘what happened to you?’, ‘are you sure?’. We would accept their reality and move on with whatever the more salient issue for treatment was. However, the othering of trans experience continues to
perpetuate socioeconomic and health inequalities by denying access to vital treatments. 

Under the current system, trans and non-binary people must undergo clinical assessment to determine their suitability for medical and surgical treatments. This is not due to greater risk of people ‘changing their minds’ or being uncomfortable with one’s gender being a mental illness (as we have seen gender difficulties exist within all of us). Medical treatments for gender incongruence (the diagnosis which must be made to obtain these treatments) carries higher satisfaction rates than many other health-related surgeries (e.g. Davies, McIntyr, Rypma & Richards, 2019; Dehjne et al, 2014). They also allow trans and non-binary individuals to live happier lives.

People who transition experience mental health problems at a similar rate to cisgender individuals (although there is some evidence to suggest slightly higher rates of anxiety and depression as a result of minority stress, discrimination in jobs, etc.). As a society, we should be able to understand gender (and sexuality) as part of a broader spectrum of human diversity, separate from mental health. By not addressing and educating ourselves about these issues, not only do we do a disservice, (and possibly harm) to trans and non-binary individuals in our communities, but also limit our reflexivity and ability to support individuals with the thorny issue of gender which ultimately affects us all.

​
Good places to start if you would like to learn more:

BPS (2019). Guidelines for psychologists working with gender, sexuality and relationship diversity.

Beattie, M., & Lenihan, P. (2018). Counselling skills for working with gender diversity and identity. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

Lester, C. N. (2017). Trans Like Me: A Journey for All of Us. Hachette UK.

Mermaids (for gender diverse children) www.mermaidsuk.org.uk

Richards, C., & Barker, M. (2013). Sexuality and gender for mental health
professionals: A practical guide. Sage.

Roche, J. (2018). Queer sex: A trans and non-binary guide to intimacy, pleasure and
relationships. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

Snorton, C. R. (2017). Black on both sides: A racial history of trans identity. U of Minnesota Press.

Stonewall (LGBT inclusion charity and resources) www.stonewall.org.uk

In the landscape of Covid19, we are discovering a world that is not fit for our needs. How we socialise, travel, work, celebrate, grieve - all require extra layers of planning and thinking about uncomfortable questions. 

Do we hug when we meet? Do we shake hands? Will you be offended if we don’t? Or if we do? How do I travel safely? How often do I change masks? Will my job understand that I’m finding this really tough? Will they make adjustments? Do I ask the person next to me to put their mask on? Would they be offended? Do I just avoid seeing people altogether?

Consider the above questions, and perhaps add to the list what comes to mind right now. Do you plan for these questions because you should have been immune to the virus but you aren’t? Or would you say that because of the virus our world set-up no longer allows for us to be safe, comfortable,and able to do things as in non-pandemic times? We’ve designed a world that allows us to be functional without a pandemic on the loose. Whereas before we would be free and able to navigate through our social interactions and daily activities, we are now limited, needing adjustments.

​

Now consider the following; during pre-Covid times, a person with sight loss is preparing for a job interview. As they are getting ready, they plan what they might want to say about the job, and also start to think about how to prepare in relation to their sight loss.

Do I tell them in advance what would help me? How would they see me if I did? If I take my seeing cane will it make me seem less capable, and in need? Maybe I won’t. Do we shake hands when we meet? What if they have their hand out to shake my hand and I don’t see it? Would they be offended? Should I take my seeing eye-cane just in case? What if they see me as less able? What if I do something offensive without realising? How do I travel safely? Will the job understand if I find things tough? Will they make adjustments? Do I just avoid going altogether?

The above thought processes have some similarity, although they are referring to two different situations. In the case of Covid, the limitations, barriers and extra consideration happen because of a world that is set up in such a way that people and a pandemic cannot comfortably and safely coexist. In the case of the person with sight loss, would you say that this is a disabled person that is limited by their vision? Could it instead be that the person with sight loss and the current world setup cannot coexist to offer a safe and comfortable experience of life?

Broken people or broken worlds?
If we consider the above examples, and take the approach that the difficulties one is facing are relating to them as an individual as opposed to barriers posed by the systems around them, this will determine where we expect to see change. If we assume there is a problem within the person, that they are impaired, broken, we will focus on fixing them or - what happens more often - expect them to find their own way to deal with the current set-up. In their paper on human rights and disability (The International Context), Rioux and Carbert (2003) explain the high prevalence in views of disability as a ‘matter of deviance, deficiency, or disease - the pathology of an individual's failure, or a family’s failure to attain standards of normalcy’. This sets the scene for how many go on to experience the world, being seen as faulty - both pre and during Covid times. If we go on to adopt the viewpoint that disabilities exist within the person and not the world, we won’t consider the systems that could enable them to be more able and thrive.

In the case of Covid, if the option for food is to go to a supermarket where no-one wears masks, people are coughing all throughout narrow corridors, no screens at the tills, and no control to minimise the amount of people in the store, this would probably mean that you would feel unable to go to the supermarket. If the supermarket makes adjustments to minimise the risk of virus transmission, you will suddenly feel more able to go food shopping. Your experience of the supermarket can be abling or disabling, based on how the world of the supermarket is designed. Therefore at a time where things are experienced as uncomfortable, unsafe, disabling, there is a lot of power in our collective constructions of the world that can allow for the difference between having a fit for purpose or disabling world.

Would you prefer to go to a supermarket where people are wearing masks? would you prefer to live in a world where you would feel understood if you decided not to shake someone’s hand? would you prefer for the person with sight-loss to feel comfortable sharing with their prospective employer about their vision? or for them to feel understood if they didn’t shake someone’s hand because they genuinely didn't see it? 
​
In Dossas’ book on ‘Racialised Bodies, Disabling Worlds’, Mehran, a Muslim female social worker of Ugandan origin, residing in Canada and living with Polio, says ’The community should accept the fact that I am different but I am also a person like everyone else’ (Dossa, 2019, p. 41). Whilst our circumstances as individuals will always be different from one person to another, we also have a lot of similarities. At present, we all experience a disabling world due to the pandemic. Although this experience will vary from one person to another because of our circumstances, most people have seen what it is like to experience a world that is not designed to make us feel safe, comfortable, welcome, or able. 

Disabled people vs disabling worlds can be further explored through understanding the models of disability.

‘Health is the golden crown placed on the brow of the healthy that only the sick can see’ - Egyptian proverb.

When we come across barriers in disabling worlds, these can be very obvious to the person experiencing them. It is very obvious to me when I arrive at a new location (a community centre or health service), holding my seeing cane, that people welcome me as a client - not a professional - until I make it known I am there for work. My identity as a disabled person precedes that of my profession. The assumptions people make and how this influences my experience of life is quite clear to me. However, thinking about the Egyptian proverb, I can understand why this viewpoint is not clear to someone who is not seen as having an impairment day in and day out. Having said that, with all the things I can’t see I feel I have gained some extra vision when understanding what it’s like to face barriers. When I hear people speaking about the challenges of navigating through social, physical and mental barriers they confront during the pandemic, I get it. I see the crown, so to speak - not only because I am also trying to figure out how to survive this myself, but also because of having years of training trying to figure out how to do things because of living in a disabling world. When I listen to people’s experiences of disabling worlds, the opportunities they miss out on because of systemic discrimination or the emotional exhaustion that they face, I understand. Even when our circumstances and experiences are different, I know what it might mean to others to go through a disabling world. It might not be a crown, it might be a scarf or a hat, but I can see it.

Starting from a place of understanding
So what can the pandemic teach us about disabling worlds? As we move to the next normal, I hope we can hold on to these reflections about our experiences; what was it like for you to be in an (albeit transient) disabling world? How is that similar or different to the person in front of you? Starting from a place of understanding, we can consider a world that is fit for purpose for all of us, always. Perhaps the next normal could be a place where we look for what we have in common to better understand one another, and explore our differences to make things better for each other.

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References
Dossa, P. (2009). Racialized Bodies, Disabling Worlds: Storied Lives of Immigrant Muslim Women. Toronto; Buffalo; London: University of Toronto Press. 

Rioux, M. & Carbert, A. (2003). Human Rights and Disability: The International Context. Journal On Developmental Disabilities, 10(2). Retrieved from https://oadd.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/rioux.pdf

I like to think of the summer of 2014, around the time I was finishing up the second year of my bachelor’s degree, as the period when I started becoming a social psychologist. For a couple of sticky, hot months in Beirut, sitting under a distinctly loud and largely useless fan, I listened to my professor share what seemed like mind-shattering theoretical and empirical knowledge on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Every bit of information that was sprung onto me felt like a revelation – the usual suspects of any Intro to Social Psych class; Milgram, Zimbardo, Asch, and their likes. Every theory, every finding, seemed to explain phenomena I had been witnessing and marvelling at for years. So much so that I went around spraying my newly found discoveries onto friends who were rather unenthused, and claiming with reverberating confidence that the world would be a better place if everyone were mandatorily exposed to social psychological knowledge. It truly felt like I, a biology student who had randomly taken this conveniently timed elective, had finally found the discipline that would equip me to fight for the world I wanted; a just world. On the last day of lectures, in between questions about the final exam’s format and informal feedback on the course, the professor asked us what we thought the main insight of social psychology was – what were we taking home with us, us liberal arts students from across disciplines who would go back to investing in whatever major we had signed up for? After a string of pseudo-sophisticated answers (one of which was very likely mine, although my motivated memory conveniently leaves that out today), the professor concluded the class with his own takeaway; “context matters.” ​

By PSC Leicester

Communities in Leicester are facing an extended lockdown following a ‘spike’ in cases of COVID-19. Public Health England are yet to find obvious reasons for this and emerging data from ‘backward contact tracing’ trials in Leicester indicate most were following stay at home guidance. The absence of a clear narrative, however, has resulted in widespread stories which ‘other’ and blame. We live in an age where unchecked soundbites or fragments of information spread quickly and carry immense power, often resulting in divisive rhetoric that damages community cohesion and obscures the bigger picture. It’s easy to fall into these traps. We must therefore continue to be curious about wider factors that are likely to have contributed.
 
Psychologists for Social Change have previously warned that the COVID-19 crisis has increased the visibility of existing social inequalities in our society and could further compound divisions in our communities. Tragically, we are experiencing this in Leicester today. Many of the speculative narratives focus on personal responsibility with even the Prime Minister bemoaning problems “getting people to understand what was necessary to do” in Leicester. This caricatures residents as either unintelligent or unable to speak English; the latter pointing unfairly to our Eastern European, Somali and Asian communities. There is no evidence that social distancing was understood any less here than in other parts of the country, and the reality is far more complex than that narrative implies. Blaming individuals in this way is unhelpful, shaming, feeds into nationalist rhetoric, and takes the focus away from a government who have been slow to act not just in Leicester but from the outset of the pandemic. It also obscures the more powerful and intersected systemic influences at play that people cannot change.

Familiar words spoken, which ‘other’, change the focus, and assign to us the personal blame. 
The searing silence and efforts of some to protect their fragility, privilege, and the systems that support it, that for them, things can remain the same. 
George’s anguished face on the pavement, an image that cannot be shaken. 
I stand weary, just how many more lives must be taken? 
The perpetrators saw no value in his black life, enabling his humanity to be mercilessly forsaken. 
We bear witness, hearts broken, our souls howl in pain. 
The pain is so deep, raw and visceral, that it stirs our ancestors in their sacred resting plane. 
We weep and ask ‘will things always be the same’? 
How much longer will the ruling majority continue to stamp its foot on our necks, and sanction us being murdered and maimed? 
While observing these historical patterns, our collective humanity bows its head in shame. 
It is hard not to fall into a dark pit of hopelessness and despair. 
But my faith, my people and our allies lift my heart and spirit, as we speak up, show up and stand in mutual solidarity, while all committing to do our share. 
I know for us equality, justice, freedom and peace will never be served up on a platter. 
However our birth right inherently and unequivocally decrees that BLACK LIVES MATTER!!! 

THIS MUST END 
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In honour of our ancestors and those most recently fallen – Rest in Power and Peace George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Ahbery & Belly Mujinga. ​

Halina Bryan , Second Year Clinical Psychology Trainee, University of Manchester (UK)