Category: PgCert: Inclusive Practices

Introduction

This reflective post documents the process of designing an inclusive learning intervention as part of my PgCert journey. Titled Positionality Mapping, the intervention stems from my desire to foster more equitable and critically reflexive collaboration in group work. Positioned within the MA Innovation Management course at UAL, where students work in diverse, interdisciplinary teams, I often witness the tensions that can arise from unspoken assumptions around identity, communication, and authority.

Coming from a multicultural and multilingual background, and working across both academia and industry, I am particularly sensitive to how power operates through language, visibility, and assumed norms. I want to challenge the idea of the “neutral” student or collaborator by making space for students to reflect on and articulate how their lived experiences shape their ways of working. This commitment aligns with my broader values of intersectional social justice (Crenshaw, 1991), and with UAL’s strategic objectives to foster inclusive and participatory education.

My intervention proposes a structured, two-part activity: first, students will create private positionality maps to reflect on aspects such as cultural background, communication style, access needs, and personal values. Second, they will be invited — but not required — to share selected elements with their peers as part of forming group agreements. I see this as a foundation-setting process that supports mutual understanding, rather than a box-ticking inclusion exercise.

This report reflects on the theoretical rationale, ethical considerations, and personal motivations behind the design. It also outlines my intended implementation, anticipated challenges, and next steps for trialling the intervention in the upcoming academic year.

Context

The intervention is designed for postgraduate students on the MA Innovation Management course, but can be applied to any other course that works with group briefs. In the MAIM course in particular, we bring together students from design, business, social science, and technology backgrounds, many of whom are international, multilingual, and navigating cultural adaptation. Group work is central to our pedagogical approach, and while students are encouraged to collaborate and bring in diverse perspectives, I’ve observed that the processes of forming groups and developing shared values are often left unstructured.

Students frequently encounter friction due to differences in working styles, language fluency, confidence in speaking, and expectations around leadership and collaboration. These frictions are not necessarily problematic in themselves — in fact, they can be productive. But without tools to navigate them, they risk reinforcing inequities and marginalising those who don’t conform to dominant norms.

The idea for Positionality Mapping emerged from my desire to support students in recognising and valuing these differences from the outset, and to move beyond performative inclusion. It was also influenced by conversations with colleagues during Workshop 2, where we discussed how to create conditions for meaningful peer learning across difference. Feedback from peers highlighted the need for a preparatory stage that allows students to reflect individually before co-creating group norms or group chartres — something that would avoid putting undue pressure on students to disclose sensitive information prematurely.

The activity is intended to be implemented within the first week of group project work. Students would complete a guided reflective template (inspired by, but expanding on, a traditional SWOT analysis), and staff would model the practice by sharing their own maps in a limited, voluntary way. This context-specific approach feels aligned with UAL’s inclusive education framework and speaks directly to the access, success, and progression dimensions of the Access and Participation Plan (UAL, 2025).

Inclusive Learning: Rationale and Theoretical Grounding

My intervention is grounded in inclusive pedagogy that foregrounds lived experience as a site of knowledge (Haraway, 1988; Cuevas, 2020), and is informed by theories of intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1991), anti-racist education (Kishimoto, 2018), and critical reflection (Brookfield, 2017). These frameworks collectively challenge dominant models of teaching and learning by making space for marginalised voices and perspectives.

Positionality Mapping supports the idea that knowledge is always situated — shaped by who we are, where we come from, and how we engage with the world. It also speaks to Freire’s (1996) notion of dialogic education, in which learning emerges through reflection and exchange, rather than passive reception.

Importantly, this intervention also considers the emotional and ethical dimensions of learning. Inspired by Boler’s (1999) concept of the pedagogy of discomfort, I believe that creating inclusive spaces doesn’t mean avoiding difficulty — rather, it involves building structures that can hold complexity in compassionate and intentional ways.

From a policy standpoint, the intervention responds to the UK Equality Act 2010, particularly the duty placed on educators to promote equality and foster good relations across differences. By prompting reflection on individual and collective experiences of power, marginalisation, and belonging, Positionality Mapping becomes a micro-level response to a macro-level structural duty.

Reflection on Development

The intervention began as a simple idea: a visual map of identity and learning preferences. But through feedback and reflective dialogue with peers and tutors, it evolved into a two-stage process that distinguishes between private and public reflection, and introduces a crucial “pause” — a space between personal awareness and group disclosure.

This distinction was a direct result of a tutorial with one of the PgCert tutors, which raised ethical concerns about privacy, vulnerability, and unintended disclosure. The feedback helped me see that even well-intentioned inclusion practices can replicate harm if they are not scaffolded carefully. For example, students from certain faith backgrounds or with invisible disabilities may feel pressure to share beyond their comfort level if we do not provide clear boundaries and alternatives.

One key challenge was balancing the depth of reflection I hoped to encourage with the emotional labour it might require. I also questioned whether students would see the value of the task, or whether they might perceive it as abstract or overly “personal.” To address this, I plan to frame the exercise explicitly within the context of group effectiveness — helping students see how positionality influences collaboration, decision-making, and creative dynamics.

An additional complexity is managing the diversity within the room — not just in terms of culture or language, but also power, confidence, and educational background. In highly mixed cohorts, there is a risk that students with more familiarity with reflective practice might dominate the process. Mitigating this requires a carefully facilitated structure and multiple modes of engagement (e.g. visual, verbal, anonymous input).

Action: Implementation Plan

In the upcoming academic year, I intend to pilot the Positionality Mapping intervention during one of the units from the Autumn Term, depending on what feels most appropriate for the rhythm of the academic calendar. The intervention will begin with an individual task and move through a carefully scaffolded process to group interaction.

First, I will provide students with a guided worksheet including prompt questions on cultural background, learning needs, working preferences, values, and any access requirements they may wish to reflect on. Filling in this template will be a personal, private task. The aim is to support students in becoming more conscious of how their positionality might shape their engagement in group work.

Students will then be asked to review their completed template and consider what, if anything, they are ready to share. They will be explicitly told they are under no obligation to disclose anything — the emphasis will be on mindful, intentional sharing. They are encouraged to reflect on what feels useful or meaningful to communicate with their group, and why. It is expected that each student might choose to share different aspects, and that not everyone will contribute the same type of information.

Once students are ready, structured time will be set aside for groups to have a facilitated sharing session. This will be handled with care, using clear ground rules, and with tutor support as needed. 

This staged, ethical implementation acknowledges the emotional and interpersonal dynamics at play and builds in time for feedback and adjustment. I plan to document insights throughout and share them with the programme team as part of a wider conversation around inclusive group work design.

Evaluation and Limitations

Although I have not yet implemented the intervention, several potential limitations are already apparent. First, there is the question of emotional safety: even with a clear structure, students may feel uncertain about what is “safe” to share. Offering a two-part structure (private and optional public sharing) aims to address this, but it may not fully resolve the issue for all students.

Second, the intervention may require more time than typically allotted in early project sessions. Negotiating time within a busy curriculum is always a challenge, and I will need to collaborate with colleagues to embed this meaningfully rather than as an add-on.

Third, measuring the impact of the intervention will require both qualitative and informal approaches. I plan to use anonymous feedback tools such as Padlet to gather student reflections and adapt accordingly.

Finally, I am aware that my own biases — particularly around valuing reflection and verbalisation — might shape how I facilitate this. Being mindful of that, and remaining open to feedback, will be key to ensuring the process remains inclusive for all.

Conclusion

Designing the Positionality Mapping intervention has been a generative process of reflection, theory-building, and dialogue. It has helped me clarify my own commitments to inclusive learning, and foregrounded the ethical responsibility we hold as educators to design with — not just for — our students.

The process has also reinforced that inclusion is not a fixed outcome, but a continual practice of listening, adjusting, and co-creating. I don’t expect this intervention to be a perfect solution, but I hope it opens up space for more intentional conversations about who we are when we come together to learn, and what we each need to thrive.

Ultimately, Positionality Mapping is not just about understanding identity — it is about making space for the diverse conditions under which learning happens, and recognising that justice in education begins with how we treat each other in the room.

References

Boler, M. (1999) Feeling Power: Emotions and Education. New York: Routledge.

Brookfield, S.D. (2017) Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher. 2nd edn. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Crenshaw, K. (1991) ‘Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’, Stanford Law Review.

Cuevas, A.K. (2020) ‘Positionality as Knowledge: From Pedagogy to Praxis’, PS: Political Science & Politics.

Freire, P. (1996) Pedagogy of the Oppressed. London: Penguin Books.

Kishimoto, K. (2018) ‘Anti-racist pedagogy: from faculty’s self-reflection to organizing within and beyond the classroom’, Race Ethnicity and Education, 21(4), pp. 540–554.

UAL (2025) ‘Access and Participation Plan’. Available at: https://www.arts.ac.uk/__data/assets/pdf_file/0030/458346/University-of-the-Arts-London-Access-and-Participation-Plan-2025-26-to-2028-29-PDF-1297KB.pdf

As the final post in this three-part reflection, I turn to race — perhaps the most visible and yet persistently misunderstood axis of structural inequality within higher education. Rather than approach this through anecdote, I focus here on a critical engagement with the literature and media provided, to question the institutional narratives around diversity, equity, and inclusion.

Crenshaw’s (1989) framework of intersectionality continues to offer a vital lens. Both Bradbury (2020) and Garrett (2024) extend this by showing how race, when compounded with other social markers like language or educational capital, is not only a source of individual struggle but a systemic fault line. Bradbury reveals how UK assessment policy constructs bilingual learners through deficit logics, recoding language richness as a liability. This is not merely an educational gap — it is a form of epistemic violence.

Garrett (2024) deepens this critique, tracing how racialised minority PhD students internalise structural limitations that reshape their imagined futures. The very notion of “career potential” becomes racially coded. This isn’t about overt racism, but about the subtle architecture of higher education, which rewards conformity to white, middle-class ideals while claiming inclusivity. In short, meritocracy is only as fair as the norms it privileges.

The TEDx talk by Sadiq (2023) gestures toward a hopeful DEI practice but risks staying at surface level — focusing on representation without redistribution. In contrast, the Channel 4 clip The School That Tried to End Racism promotes a pedagogy of dialogue but reinforces racism as interpersonal. The most reactionary of the set, Orr’s (2022) video for The Telegraph frames racial equity as ideological overreach, positioning white neutrality as the threatened norm. These pieces, when read together, expose a central tension: the institutional desire to appear inclusive without unsettling the very structures that perpetuate inequality.

At UAL and similar institutions, we often discuss “race” in terms of presence — who is in the room — rather than power. Yet as the texts reveal, inclusion is not a numbers game. Without addressing the embedded values that shape whose work is seen as legitimate

Reflecting on this three-part series, I’ve realised the core demand running through each post is a call for structural honesty — the courage to see where power lives, even in the soft language of inclusion. Race is not just a topic to include in our teaching; it is a system we are all entangled in. It shapes access, opportunity, and voice. As educators, we are not exempt from this — and must learn to name it, navigate it, and challenge it with care.

References

Bradbury, A. (2020). ‘A critical race theory framework for education policy analysis: The case of bilingual learners and assessment policy in England’, Race Ethnicity and Education, 23(2), pp. 241–260.

Channel 4. (2020). The School That Tried to End Racism. [Video Clip].

Crenshaw, K. (1989). ‘Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex’, University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1), pp. 139–167.

Garrett, R. (2024). ‘Racism shapes careers: Career trajectories and imagined futures of racialised minority PhDs in UK higher education’, Globalisation, Societies and Education, pp. 2–11.

Orr, J. (2022). Revealed: The Charity Turning UK Universities Woke. [Telegraph Video].

Sadiq, A. (2023). Diversity, Equity & Inclusion: Learning How to Get It Right. [TEDx Video].

If intersectionality teaches us anything, it is that lived experience is always shaped by multiple, overlapping identities. Faith, like disability, is not a standalone category; it intersects with race, gender, class, and culture, influencing how individuals navigate institutions and how those institutions respond in turn (Crenshaw, 1989).

Engaging with this week’s resources, I appreciated the richness of perspectives offered, particularly the nuanced exploration of racialised and gendered experiences within minority faith groups. In the Trinity University video Challenging Race, Religion, and Stereotypes in the Classroom, for example, students speak powerfully about being misjudged based on their appearance, especially when wearing religious clothing such as the hijab or yarmulke. These reflections highlight important dimensions of faith and embodiment. However, I also found myself reflecting on the notable absence of Christian perspectives in the discussion. This omission is striking in light of updated data from HESA (2023/24), which shows that Christianity remains the most widely declared religious affiliation among students in UK higher education (30%), doubling the next largest group, Islam (14%). And yet, Christian Catholic viewpoints – particularly those addressing modesty, embodiment, and moral reasoning, are often absent from conversations in secular creative spaces. This silence risks perpetuating a form of epistemic erasure, where some beliefs are rendered invisible or perceived as culturally regressive.

^{This table shows the breakdown of UK higher education student enrolments by religious belief from the 2019/20 to 2023/24 academic years (Higher Education Statistics Agency [HESA], 2024).}

Catholic social thought offers a rich tradition of human dignity, care for the other, and responsibility in how we present ourselves in the world. Pope Benedict XVI, in Deus Caritas Est (2005), writes about the body not merely as a physical object but as a vessel of meaning, capable of communicating love, respect, and truth. From this standpoint, modesty is not repression but intentionality: a mindful expression of one’s values, not just a matter of aesthetic preference.  This framing sits uncomfortably alongside a dominant ethos where the principle of “everything is accepted” is often celebrated as a marker of progress. Yet this idea, when unexamined, can produce tension. Are we genuinely fostering a shared environment or are we defaulting to a form of expressive individualism that inadvertently sidelines quieter, faith-based forms of expression? I recall a classroom experience that left me, as a person of faith, genuinely shocked and unprepared. A student arrived to a seminar wearing extremely short, ripped denim shorts and a sheer top through which her breasts were entirely visible. While no comments were made during the session, I later heard from several classmates who expressed discomfort and uncertainty about how to participate in the discussion. Their concerns were not about the student’s body, but about the context, and the implicit assumption that such levels of exposure were appropriate in a learning environment.

As an educator, I found myself reflecting not only on the moment but on how ill-equipped we often are to navigate such situations. In highly diverse classrooms, are we truly creating spaces where all students, including those of faith, feel able to be fully present? Or are we, by omission, creating environments where certain modes of expression are protected and others quietly marginalised?

Appiah’s Is Religion Good or Bad? explores how religious belief informs moral frameworks, yet avoids the tension that arises when religious values confront hyper-liberal interpretations of freedom. Similarly, Jawad (2022), in her study on Muslim women in sport, shows how modesty is often misread as regressive. Christian women, particularly those who choose modest dress as an act of faith, face similar scrutiny, often dismissed as outdated. Yet within Catholic teaching, modesty is understood not as regressive or outdated, but as a meaningful expression of dignity and self-possession. In Theology of the Body, Pope John Paul II (2006) reflects on the body as a site of truth capable of revealing the inner life of the person through intentional and respectful presentation. Modesty, in this light, is a way of affirming one’s worth and resisting objectification. It becomes not a denial of visibility, but a form of clarity, a refusal to be reduced to external perception and a quiet assertion of agency within shared cultural spaces.

Inclusion in higher education, particularly within creative fields, must move beyond surface-level visibility and account for the deeper complexities of shared space. Visibility for some can unintentionally result in the silencing or withdrawal of others. If one student feels empowered by revealing their body, while another feels unable to speak or be present in that same environment, we must ask whether our classrooms are truly inclusive or simply permissive in ways that favour dominant modes of expression. When does fashion shift from liberation to exclusion? Are we genuinely attentive to the needs of those whose beliefs call for modesty, reverence, or discretion? This is not a call for censorship, but an invitation to re-evaluate how we define respect within educational settings. While we rightly celebrate personal expression, we seldom interrogate its boundaries when it unfolds in shared, pluralistic spaces. When freedom of expression and freedom of conscience come into tension, what structures are in place to ensure that all students and staff – not just the most visible or outspoken – feel safe, dignified, and heard? Ignoring such tensions is not neutral; it shapes who feels they belong and who does not.

For many students and staff, faith remains a meaningful source of identity, purpose, and ethical grounding, just as others may be shaped by secular, humanist, or non-religious beliefs. True inclusivity is not about privileging one worldview over another, but about fostering a learning environment where a range of values and expressions can coexist respectfully. This includes making space for modesty as well as visibility, conviction as well as questioning. Inclusive education must be attentive to difference in its many forms, recognising that a genuine sense of belonging is not created through uniformity, but through mutual care and thoughtful dialogue. I’m still learning what this looks like in practice, but I keep asking myself: how can I, as an educator, better hold space for all students, including those whose beliefs, practices, or silences might otherwise go unnoticed?

References

Appiah, K. A. (2014). Is Religion Good or Bad? [Video]. TED.

Crenshaw, K. (1989). ‘Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex’, University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1), pp. 139–167.

Jawad, H. (2022). Islam, Women and Sport: The Case of Visible Muslim Women [Video].

Trinity University (2016). Challenging Race, Religion, and Stereotypes in the Classroom [Video].

Pope Benedict XVI (2005). Deus Caritas Est [Encyclical]. Vatican.va. Available at: https://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est.html

Higher Education Statistics Agency (HESA) (2024) Who’s in HE? Personal characteristics of students. Available at: https://www.hesa.ac.uk/data-and-analysis/students/whos-in-he#characteristics

Last term, I had a Chinese student in my postgraduate class who consistently produced brilliant individual work — sharp insights, strong research frameworks, thoughtful responses to feedback. And yet, during group activities, she struggled to be heard. She relied on a real-time translator app to convert English conversation into Chinese via her phone, and would often join in a few beats after her peers had already moved the conversation forward. Nobody excluded her intentionally — but her presence remained peripheral.

This experience has stayed with me. It prompted me to reflect on how language barriers, while not typically classified as “disability,” can function as structural obstacles that similarly restrict access to participation, knowledge production, and recognition in higher education. When we talk about inclusion, do we assume linguistic fluency as a baseline? And if we do, whom are we unconsciously leaving out?

Kimberlé Crenshaw’s (1989) theory of intersectionality helps illuminate how different forms of marginalisation compound. In this case, the student’s experience is shaped not just by language, but by culture, race, and a specific pedagogical model that privileges speed, fluency, and verbal spontaneity. Her knowledge wasn’t any less valuable — but it wasn’t compatible with the pace and format of the group work. As a result, it went largely unheard. According to Oliver’s (1990) Social Model of Disability, it is not impairment that disables, but the way environments are structured. If we take this seriously, then her experience is not a language problem — it’s a design problem. Are group work structures that reward quick, English-based verbal interaction that are not neutral? They are environments built for a particular kind of student.

Garland-Thomson’s (2002) concept of “misfitting” furthers this point: the mismatch between body (or mind, or language) and system isn’t inherent — it’s contextual. The same student might thrive in a reflective seminar, a visual map-making session, or an asynchronous discussion thread. But in fast-paced group debates, she might misfit — not because of her capability, but because the mode of participation didn’t leave enough room for her way of engaging. It leaves me wondering: how often do our teaching formats inadvertently signal who belongs — and who doesn’t — without our meaning to?

The deeper issue, as Fricker (2007) would argue, is one of epistemic injustice: a student’s ability to contribute knowledge is compromised not by lack of insight, but by lack of recognition. In spaces where diversity is celebrated in principle, the actual formats for learning can still default to fast-paced, verbal, and English-dominant modes of exchange. It raises a difficult but necessary question: when students struggle to engage in these settings, are we too quick to see it as a personal limitation — and too slow to ask whether the structure itself might need rethinking? In response, I invited the group to reflect on how we might adapt our ways of working to ensure everyone could contribute more meaningfully. They proposed using shared written boards, audio voice notes, clearer turn-taking, and allowing more time for translation. These adjustments weren’t perfect, but they changed the pace and tone of the collaboration. With more entry points and shared responsibility, contributions that had previously been missed began to land. It made me wonder: what else becomes possible when inclusion is shaped collectively, rather than delivered top-down?

This experience reminded me that the line between “language barrier” and “disablement” is not always where we think it is. When we talk about inclusion, we must look not only at the bodies and minds in the room, but at the rhythms and assumptions that govern how we teach. Sometimes, being left behind is not about ability — it’s about tempo, design, and who the classroom was built for in the first place.

References

Crenshaw, K. (1989) ‘Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: A Black feminist critique of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory and antiracist politics’, University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1), pp. 139–167.

Fricker, M. (2007) Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Garland-Thomson, R. (2002) ‘Integrating disability, transforming feminist theory’, NWSA Journal, 14(3), pp. 1–32.

hooks, b. (1994) Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.

Oliver, M. (1990) The Politics of Disablement. London: Macmillan.