Like many, I have been left shocked and saddened by the violent fallout since the tragic killing of three young girls in Southport.  

It has taken some time for me to reflect and be able to write about it. Quite frankly, it isn’t comfortable talking about this subject for me – someone who identifies as what the fallout has been largely against: immigrants. It isn’t always comfortable bringing attention to what may accentuate my alleged ‘otherness’, when I just want to be known for being part of this nation and my contribution towards it.  

The scenes of far-right thuggery, violence, intimidation, rioting and racist abuse that played out across towns and cities in the UK harked back to another era, one many of us hoped we had left behind. The actions of a small minority, whipped up by some on social media and certain politicians, left people scared to leave their homes, threats to immigration solicitors, attacks on asylum hotels, mindless vandalism and assaults on police officers trying to keep the peace. 

As someone who moved from India to Britain in the 2000s, and have since made England my home, all this feels quite personal. More so now than ever, as I raise two young daughters who have Indian ancestry AND are very much British. They are much too young now, but I have been reflecting on how I will explain these events to them. How do I continue to make them feel safe? 

Despite this darkness, however, it has been heartening to see the counter-protests from anti-fascist and anti-racism protestors and the wider public in recent days. Their peaceful protests have not only outnumbered the far-right agitators, but also served as a beacon of hope for me – as is the case for many others, I am sure. Communities have also united to clean up their streets, reclaiming their towns and cities. 

But the sheer anger, hate and violence that was on display is likely to leave scars. 

It has had a huge impact on the NHS, too, not just on those first responders who reacted heroically to the Southport attack or treated those wounded during the riots, but also through the fear and uncertainty that the riots have caused. 

Amanda Pritchard, CEO of NHS England, warned NHS leaders that ‘for many NHS workers, seeing this flare-up of racism will leave them feeling afraid and unwelcome’. 

Meanwhile, the Guardian ran an article from an NHS doctor in South West England, who had arrived from Egypt four years ago, in which he said “I’ve never felt this unsafe” and claimed international doctors he is in group chats with were equally scared. I have experienced the same level of anxiety in group chats I am in with NHS colleagues. 

The situation escalated to the point where two Filipino nurses were attacked in Sunderland while en route to provide emergency care. Health Secretary Wes Streeting responded by affirming that those who direct racist abuse at NHS staff "can and should" be turned away. 

The riots have been fuelled largely by Islamophobia and anti-immigrant sentiment. Chants such as ‘we want our country back’ and ‘stop the boats’  (now, where have we heard that before?) were heard regularly.  

I am a first-generation migrant and I have worked tirelessly to better our NHS throughout my career, so I cannot help but reflect on the vital role that diversity plays in this institution. At the same time, through my NHS networks I have heard from many healthcare colleagues from ethnic minorities about the abuse they have faced due to their race or religion. Thankfully, I have so far escaped any personal attacks of this nature, but I cannot say I have not picked up on implicit bias once in a while.  

The truth of the matter, of course, is that the NHS would collapse without its diverse workforce and without immigration. Here are a few facts:

• Over a quarter of NHS staff (25.7%) are from ethnic minority groups.  

• Ethnic minority staff make up almost half (49.9%) of hospital and community health services doctors 

• In particular, Asian staff make up the highest percentage of doctors working in staff grade, specialty doctor, and associate specialist positions. 

This diversity is a testament to the best of Britain - an inclusive, welcoming nation that thrives on the contributions of people from all backgrounds. It’s a reality we should celebrate, and I know that most of us do. The counter-protests are proof of this, showcasing people of all backgrounds coming together peacefully. 

This is the Britain we should strive for - a nation of unity, not division; of hope, not hate.  

It is perhaps fitting that we find ourselves in South Asian Heritage Month, a time to honour the rich histories and cultures of those with roots in South Asia. Founded in 2019, this celebration aims to educate and commemorate the diverse heritage that connects the UK and South Asia. This year’s theme, "Free to Be Me," feels especially poignant in these challenging times. 

As the hostility begins to subside, thanks in part to swift justice and the overwhelming presence of anti-racist protesters, we must all focus on learning and fostering better relations between communities - in the NHS and across the country.  

For me, though, it is time to move the conversation more explicitly forward. This includes addressing the uncomfortable and openly challenging the hostile rhetoric that has dominated headlines, especially the anti-migrant sentiment carelessly evoked by some. It includes standing up for what we believe in and having active discourse on the subject – not just in politics, but at the dinner table. 

This is how I hope to embrace the spirit of "Free to Be Me," which includes embracing the uncomfortable conversations I need to have, including with my own daughters. So that, ultimately, we can strive to create a healthier, more inclusive nation for everyone.  

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