Hi, my name is Sia. This year I was a semi-finalist in this year’s Great Debate competition; below I have included a section of my speech. My aim was to convey a unique perspective on the question and try to find someone that not only deserved greater recognition but represented a wider movement – something that could not only be in relevance to older history but the journey yet to be taken. For me, this person was my grandmother.

When thinking about history as a whole and the nature of the curriculum, three words instantly come to mind: monotonous, archaic and some may even say tedious. A layer of unfamiliarity coats society, as we embrace a new age, one of innovation, reconstruction and modernisation that we, as a whole, are beginning to acclimatise to. When observing the transience of society and its present civilisation, one question emerges that asks why, if the society around us is constantly changing, does the education system as a whole, but in particular the history curriculum, retain its stale disposition?

My grandmother moved to the UK from her home in Tanzania on 7 July 1971, at just 16 years old. She was a young Indian girl moving to a country tightly shackled by racial prejudice. You can only imagine how she must have been feeling. Displaced, overwhelmed with worry, anxious… funnily enough, despite the stereotype surrounding migrants’ opinions of embracing a new country, this is actually the complete opposite of how she felt. She was in awe of the growing urbanisation of England, home to her favourite author Jane Austen; she was overwhelmed with excitement to explore British culture and immerse herself within the world of literature, without the gender restraints ensnared over her education that she had encountered previously in Tanzania. She had always been different from what people expected her to be; in her family, due to cultural beliefs, it was almost expected of her to follow the pathway of her ancestors: get married, have children, raise a family, care for the family... She however rejected this cultural ideology and the 22 suitors her family proposed to her, and decided she wanted to make her own impact within society, so she was the first generation of women within her family to gain an education.

Fast-forward 17 years down the line... She was now 33 years old, married, with four kids and inactive qualifications, but she refused to let these go to waste.

Having been in the country for over a decade, she endured the brutality of racial prejudice and felt so angered by the preconceived notion of disadvantage that weighed over the Asian community, particularly within the social care system, where generalisations about Asian community and cultural practices were scorned. She was absolutely disgusted by this and craved change, adaptation… for this, she was made a mockery of, something to make dinner table jokes about. They questioned how she would be able to do this and still take care of four children all under the age of ten years, retain a happy marriage and relationships with family friends. She would laugh as if she was in agreement with them, while remembering the promise she had made to herself in the back of her mind; she would nod, gracefully, while internally processing these judgements as fuel, as motivation, to make her not only fulfil her dreams, but prove every single one of them wrong. Not once did she ever complain of her personal difficulties.

And at the age of 33, she achieved her degree, qualifying her as a social worker. With this, she not only gained the self-satisfaction of proving all those who never believed her wrong, but the motivation to utilise this career and change the lives of those around her like she did her own, breaking not only stereotypes surrounding Asian care workers, but the prejudice surrounding young children who came into care. She did this with unwavering commitment, resilience, compassion and most of all sensitivity, warmth and humanity. She cared for children like they were her own, providing them with a love that was unknown to them. The stories she tells me are heart- breaking and emotionally captivating.

Her care for these children is unforgettable: over the course of her career, she nurtured and fostered around 50 children, whose lives she completely turned around. She was commemorated for this through an award for being the first Asian carer in the borough of Brent. She made no distinction between the children she fostered and the ones she birthed. They are left with an indelible mark of gratitude that will never fade away. 

I think it’s time to unveil a new layer to the meaning of history, one where unforgotten heroes get the recognition they truly deserve.