This blog was written by Tasnim Hassan, a researcher and consultant working through an intersectional lens to support inclusive practice, drive systemic change, and turn ideas into action. She is currently completing her doctoral research at the University of Durham, exploring the experiences of Black and Brown Disabled people across the UK. Alongside her research, she works closely across the third sector, grassroots groups, and non-profits working in disability, feminist, and race equity movements – focusing on inclusive education, employment, fundraising, and movement building, among other areas.
Over the past few years, I’ve worked with the Centre for Equity & Inclusion (CEI) to explore what it takes to make spaces genuinely accessible, inclusive, and rooted in justice. The CEI works to enhance the university experience for postgraduate researchers (PGRs) of colour, while also challenging racism and other systems of power within and beyond higher education.
My work began with co-developing an Accessibility Guide alongside Dr Antonios Ktenidis, Dr. Addy Adelaine, Jane-May Martin, Nigel Fletcher, and Dr. Alex Rajinder-Mason. Building on that foundation, the CEI and I then applied the guide in practice – working with a steering group of PGRs of colour to build access and inclusion into event design for CEI’s Love & Social Justice event in 2023 and this year’s CEI Conference. Through this work, we’ve been embedding meaningful and practical ways to design spaces that hold both racial and disability justice at their core.
This written reflection is for organisers, facilitators, and justice-minded groups who are exploring how their events might move beyond surface-level inclusion – towards spaces where people can show up whole, where power can be shared, and where no one is an afterthought. In reflecting on what that involves, I continue to return to Sins Invalid’s Principles of Disability Justice, which offers an intersectional framework for rethinking access, solidarity, and what it means to build liberatory spaces.
Sins Invalid and Disability Justice
Sins Invalid is a US-based disability justice movement-building and performance project that celebrates Disabled people, led by and centring Disabled Black, Indigenous, and people of the Global Majority, as well as queer, trans, and non-binary people. From their work emerged the 10 Principles of Disability Justice – a framework for social change that highlights the interconnectedness of disability with other forms of oppression and calls for justice that is collective rather than individual.
These principles include intersectionality, the leadership of those most impacted, anti-capitalist politics, cross-movement organising, recognising wholeness, sustainability, cross-disability solidarity, interdependence, collective access, and collective liberation. They shape how many organisers approach access – not as an add-on, but as something inseparable from solidarity and liberation. From the ten principles, we’ve drawn most closely on those that speak to leadership, access, anti-capitalist practices, and wholeness – areas that feel especially relevant for anyone designing or facilitating events with justice at their heart.
Leadership and Love: Building Justice Through Relationships
Leadership and love are deeply connected in the work of justice. To lead with love is to share power, to see leadership as something that grows through collaboration and collective learning, and to root change in relationships. This approach challenges traditional hierarchies by valuing care, reciprocity, and the wisdom that emerges through shared work.
In practice, this meant ensuring that those with direct insight into barriers and inequities helped shape the work at every stage – and that their contributions were recognised, with everyone involved being paid for their time and expertise. The Accessibility Guide was co-developed with colleagues whose work and lived experience span disability, race, and gender justice. Both Love & Social Justice and this year’s conference were guided by CEI’s steering group of PGRs of colour, whose experiences within the university and beyond offered vital perspective. We also prioritised speakers and facilitators whose work sits at the intersections of these issues, recognising the importance of a range of voices and approaches.
Much of this built on CEI’s long-standing relationships with marginalised communities and partners. These connections were essential in ensuring decisions were made with rather than for those most affected – something that came through clearly at this year’s conference, where many participants spoke of the love, care, and respect they felt for CEI’s work. Disability Justice reminds us that relationships are not separate from the work but its foundation; here, those relationships – alongside shared leadership and collaboration – shaped the direction, content, and overall approach of this process.
Love Ethic: Building Collective Access
A love ethic invites us to approach justice work with care, commitment, and a deep investment in one another’s growth. As bell hooks writes, love is not sentimental but a practice – one that asks us to nurture the spiritual and emotional development of others as part of social transformation. In the context of organising, a love ethic means creating conditions where everyone involved can show up fully, be supported, and support others in turn.
Holding this ethic within the organising group shaped not only the event itself but the way we worked together. We made sure there was enough time for planning – space to think, rest, and adapt – rather than rushing to meet external expectations. Meetings became spaces of care, where people could bring what they needed, name challenges honestly, and make decisions together. That meant listening when capacity felt stretched, revisiting plans where access felt compromised, and being transparent about limitations. One of the trickier areas we discussed was whether to hold a hybrid or online format – balancing access, connection, and the practicalities of what was possible. Working through those questions together, with honesty and care, became part of the practice itself.
To more deeply embed this ethic, we also set up an online reading group for organisers and interested students to explore bell hooks’ writing on love together. It became a space for shared learning, curiosity, and reflection, which in turn shaped our planning conversations and helped us hold each other accountable to those values. During the Love & Social Justice event itself, we introduced Love Bingo – a playful way for participants to connect with others through prompts that encouraged conversation, recognition, and joy. These practices helped keep love visible throughout, not only as a theme but as a shared way of being in the space.
An event never happens in a vacuum: it begins with preparation and continues through conversations with speakers, communication with audiences, the event itself, and what follows afterwards. Care only worked when it was shared. It wasn’t the responsibility of one sole person, but something we all committed to together. That also meant asking speakers and participants to play their part, whether by following guidance on accessible presentations or sending materials in advance so BSL interpreters could prepare. Collective access, in this sense, is less about any single adjustment and more about building a culture of shared care, where everyone recognises their role in making inclusion real.
Access Over Ego: An Anti-capitalist Practice
An anti-capitalist approach to access asks us to challenge the idea that success is measured by scale, visibility, or numbers. Within social justice work, this means resisting the pressures of productivity and performance, and instead valuing depth, care, and connection. Prioritising access over ego is about choosing collective wellbeing above personal or institutional validation – creating spaces where everyone can take part fully, rather than striving to simply fill a room.
This became a central lesson in our work. At the Love & Social Justice event, we saw how easily careful access planning could be compromised, and we were determined not to repeat that. So, for this year’s conference, we made conscious decisions with access at the forefront, even when that meant fewer people attending. We had spent months planning accessible routes through the venue and designing social activities that considered a range of access needs, but a relaxed cap on numbers had previously made the space too compact and harder to navigate comfortably. The result this time was a smaller gathering than we first imagined, but one where people said they felt genuinely cared for. Prioritising space and comfort over numbers helped create an environment where people could move, rest, and connect at their own pace – reminding us that access isn’t only about entry, but about ease and belonging once inside
Recognising Wholeness: Beyond Knowledge Exchange
Recognising wholeness means valuing people for their full selves – not only for what they know or produce. Within justice work, this principle invites us to move beyond output and performance, and towards spaces that honour rest, connection, and presence as essential forms of participation. When we design with wholeness in mind, we make room for people to show up as they are, not just as contributors of knowledge.
That principle guided how we approached this work. University events often emphasise knowledge being given and received, but we wanted to create spaces that also centred connection with ourselves and one another. At the conference, this meant building in meditation and somatic practices, open conversations about a love ethic, and plenty of food and time to rest. It also shaped how we welcomed and cared for people; from the moment they arrived to the close of the day.
One way we tried to hold this was through a gift-giving activity. Each person received a small gift bag on arrival, a gesture of welcome and appreciation. Throughout the day, participants were invited to reflect on the idea of giving – to think about what they might offer to the space or to one another. Some brought small items or notes, others shared thoughts or creative responses, leaving behind messages that expressed care, gratitude, or hope. Feedback itself became a kind of gift, an offering back to the collective. This mutual exchange – of presence, reflection, and appreciation – helped shape a tone of generosity that ran through the day.
Framing presence itself as a gift, and recognising the value of each person, felt just as important as any formal exchange of knowledge. In many ways, knowledge sharing was secondary to creating a space where people felt seen in their wholeness.
Reflections Moving Forward
Together, these reflections show how disability justice principles can move from words into practice – shaping how events are planned, how care is shared, and how people experience a space. Pulling these experiences together, a few things stand out for us:
● Justice is relational. Change happens through the connections we nurture, the trust we build, and the ways we stay accountable to one another.
● Care is a practice. It shows up in preparation, in how we hold events, and in what follows afterwards. Everyone has a role in making access real.
● Value beyond scale. Numbers alone don’t tell the story of impact. Depth, presence, and how people feel in a space are truer measures.
● Whole people, whole spaces. Creating environments where people can rest, connect, and show up fully matters as much as any formal content.
This work has taught us that justice is not only something we work toward, but something we practise in how we organise, relate, and build together. It shows that liberatory spaces are not a distant goal, but something we can nurture in the everyday practices of organising.
* I’d like to thank Dr. Alex Rajinder-Mason for involving me in this work over the past few years, and for being a generous collaborator – open, reflective, and always ready to engage with challenge and care.