Volume 12

How and Why to Diversify Curricula 

Dermot Daly

LEEDS CONSERVATOIRE and LEEDS BECKETT UNIVERSITY

WHY THE NEED?

Curriculum in UK higher education is comprised ‘of ‘white ideas’ by ‘white authors’ and is a result of [a] colonialism that has normalized whiteness’ (Peters, 2015, p. 641). This is evident across higher education, where ‘curricula continue to be unashamedly white’ (Tate & Bagguley, 2016, p. 291) and acutely in the performing arts, where there is a ‘White Eurocentric focus as the bedrock for the canon’ (Daly, 2023, p. 465). This is the curriculum that someone not racialised-as-White, such as myself, was taught and is often expected to teach, and therefore legitimise and propagate, uncritically. At base level, if education is based around four functions; socialization, social integration, social placement, and social and cultural innovation, (Barkan, 2016, p. 601) it is ultimately geared toward preparing people to live harmoniously and with understanding of the society, and world, that we live in. That being the case, having a curriculum which posits privileges for certain knowledge(s) and sources of that knowledge, runs counter to that aim. A diversification is needed to redress this. This is especially true in my discipline of performing arts, rooted as it is in the analysing of the human condition.

In scope, alongside and in tandem with diversification, are the effects of colonialism—specifically academic-colonialism—in which ‘authors and academics from the developed powerful countries having better access to funding and institutional support [...] have better chances to get their works published’ (Sengupta, 2021, p. 204) and therefore added to curricula. This ‘capturing’ of curricula creates difficulties in addressing and enacting an anti-racist curriculum as ‘new pathways for knowing, doing and being in the world’ (Hall et al., 2021, p. 903) have, and continue to be colonised. When coupled with clear moral and practical reasons for a front footed redress, the greater awareness and acceptance of the need for decolonisation which has ‘risen significantly in recent years’ (Shain et al., 2021, p. 920), gives impetus to sustained and motivated action. Discovering, and acting on, reasons for diversification can lead to active decolonisation of the knowledges that are privileged and through this, an anti-racist, progressive and more socially connected curriculum can be brought into being.

Using questions as headings through the following is a conscious attempt—much like a dramaturg—to create sustained analysis of the issues at hand. Therefore, leading to, it is hoped, critical and reasoned conclusions, giving impetus for sustained and sustainable action(s). This questioning allows for a structuring which begins by looking to disciplines outside of performing arts, where cross-pollination of ideas and routes to new curriculum formation can be seen by laying bare the commonalities across teaching and learning. Working through questioning ensures that there is more than one point of authority, creating a ‘practice that is open to, and actively draws on, diverse perspectives’ (Tobi, 2020, p. 261)—a key tenet in decolonisation work. Following on, more pragmatically, we look to learn who stands to benefit (and in what ways) giving more motivation to sustain work in this area. Pulling these strands together, this paper aims to offer ‘ways in’ to begin the necessary work, concluding with a reaffirmation of the necessity and imperative for diversification of curricula, both in the arts and more broadly.

WHY DIVERSIFY?

Even the most cursory glance around campus would make clear that not all university students are the same; this is obvious, but not consistently acknowledged. There are several metrics which show and/or suggest disparities between levels of attainment based on immutable personal characteristics.

The race attainment gap (here in the UK), gleaned through reported statistics, over several years, show substantive disparities between outcomes for racialised-as-White students and those students not racialised in the same manner. UK Government statistics show that a racialised-as-Black student who enters higher education in the UK with three A’s at A-Level (the qualification often used as a measure of suitability for higher education study), can expect to attain the same level of undergraduate degree as a racialised-as-White student who enters higher education with two B’s and a C (Office for Students, 2021), these figures translate into employment outcomes which follow the same trajectory. The most recent release of UK graduate outcome data indicates that 61% of racialised-as-White students can expect to be in full time employment compared 53% of those racialised-as-Black (Black or Black British African, Caribbean and other) (HESA, 2025).[1] This significant gap raises questions of what the disparity is and where it resides.

There are a multitude of factors necessitating a need to be sensitive to the fact that ‘[m]ultiple aspects of advantage and disadvantage, both separately and in combination, influence educational outcomes’ (Mcmaster & Cook, 2018, p. 271); it is imperative to recognise the intersectional nature of university students. One size does not fit all. This can be evinced as justification for a more diverse range of canonical work in curricula which include representation of lived identities for those, like mine, pitched at the ‘wrong end’ of the divide. This is especially important when we consider that on performing arts courses we are incubating and nurturing the storytellers of the future. It should be remembered that,

Universities transform lives. […] But not everyone benefits in the same way. Fewer students from socially and economically disadvantaged backgrounds go to university, and when they do they tend not to do as well as their more privileged peers. The influence of background continues long after graduation. […] Compared to their peers, graduate outcomes are not as good for black and minority ethnic students, nor for disabled students. Universities have long worked hard to remedy the impact of disadvantage, […]. But differences remain, and are stark. (Dandridge, 2016, p. 1)

McDuff and Hughes theorised an inclusive curriculum framework to enact ‘learning that is meaningful, and accessible to all’ (Hockings, 2010, p. 1). It hinges around creating an accessible curriculum, enabling students to see themselves reflected, and equipping students to work in a global and diverse world, through interrogation of concepts, content, learning and teaching, assessment, feedback and review. Through a series of questions, prompts are offered to course teams and module leaders to create an inclusive curriculum. This framework works in-so-much as it disrupts homogenous and ‘same old’ thinking but it does not give a concrete methodology that enacts the provocations practically. This is, in part, due to the differences inherent in settings, but it is contended that this lack of practical enaction may be seen as a hindrance or used as a method of avoidance by teams and courses already resistant to proactive change. In building of inclusion and decolonisation of curricula and teaching, reactive change is almost never more than surface deep.

It is possible to decolonise a curriculum by diversifying it and this can come from the impulse to move toward anti-racist education. An anti-racist curriculum can be a direct result of a shift to decolonisation which can be facilitated by a diversification of what is included. Diversification for the sake of broadening, can make clear the colonial roots of curricula which propagate a racist agenda, once we accept that racism and colonialism are bedfellows.

It must be acknowledged that in formal education more and more is being asked of fewer and fewer with less and less time; any bridge of that gap is a necessary tool in efforts to create inclusivity through decolonised and anti-racist learning, equalising all learning (and by extension the society that it is nested in). Within performing arts education, it is increasingly important to see the whole student—the whole performer—holistically; denial of identity can sound the death knell for creativity. Performers, including Emmy nominated actor Regé-Jean Page, have spoken about their need to ‘codeswitch’ knowing that ‘if I was this guy, I’d get access here; if I was this guy, people will accept me in this way’ (McGurk, 2021). Whilst in a society that is still in need of reminders that Black lives matter, it must be recognised that this codeswitching—or assimilating—to fit in with the prevalent norm will be an ever-present tool for all marginalised performers. As long as what is taught is from a position of power that the marginalised are not privy to, this will continue to be the case. It need not be.

Denial of identity, stemming from assimilation and lack of representation of that identity, can lead to psychological distress or even severe mental ill health. The actor David Harewood,[2] in detailing his episodes of psychosis, opines that he ‘fell so hard’ because he had

[…] assimilated to the point where I thought colour didn’t really matter [...] I had no knowledge of my Black self, no sense of the history and meaning, no sense of the story of my people and the rich culture from which I came [...] I’d built the house      without setting the foundations. (Harewood, 2022, p. 86)

The effects of colonisation are not solely in the past; they are very much the precursor of a mightily real present.

The canon of texts used is to be overhauled and re-examined through different lenses. Decolonisation efforts must be squarely focussed on what and where the colonisation that is to be removed, emanates from. By understanding who the status quo benefits and who it disenfranchises, this becomes clear. In doing this, I argue that space for ‘continuous, responsive and aware’ (Daly, 2023, p. 14) engagement can be found in the creation of an anti-racist—and therefore progressive—curriculum.

For learners to achieve and aim for the best they can be, it seems obligatory to include as many lived identities as possible within the texts that make up the taught curriculum. For there to be greater representation in the texts, there is a necessity for greater representation in those choosing the texts. The problematics of homogenisation of identity are brought to the fore in the wording of the Mba et al. (2023) statistic relaying that 18.5% of academics and only 14.3% of professors at UK universities identify as B.A.M.E. (Mba et al., 2023, p. 4 [italics added]). Whilst shocking, in reporting as ‘B.A.M.E.’ these statistics inadvertently (it is hoped) mask the specificity of the problems around racial identity in academia. ‘B.A.M.E.’ creates a fulcrum between those racialised-as-White and the implied homogeneity of everyone else, this paper uses ‘racialised-as’ to draw attention to this. To see the problem fully and understand the nuances involved, this acronym, and those analogous to it, must be challenged to ensure that ‘White’ is not the default. This is gaining traction across society, with the UK government acknowledging that the acronym ‘is poorly understood by many’, that it ‘obscures important disparities between different ethnic groups’ committing to ‘be as granular and specific as possible in how we talk about ethnicity’ (Inclusive Britain: Government Response to the Commission on Race and Ethnic Disparities, 2022).

To gain greater representation in the creators of curricula, there needs to be greater specificity of representation in the texts that they studied for them to feel and understand, first hand, the benefits of this representation to go on to champion it. It is within this seemingly intractable problem that the status quo perpetuating inertia has resided. It is this inertia that must be addressed by all, as it is indeed all who will reap the benefits of a broader knowledge and understanding base. The decolonisation of teaching and learning spaces can only occur when—like any harmful ongoing addiction—there is acceptance and acknowledgment of the issue.

WHAT IS ALREADY THERE FOR DIFFERENT DISCIPLINES?

There is already concern ‘with the lack of visibility of marginalised communities and the reinforcement of historical stereotypes in the classical canon scripts’ (Stamatiou, 2022, p. 96) within the performing arts but there is much to be gained from cross-disciplinary exploration. As decolonisation is the work of uncoupling and/or examining colonial influence on knowledge and its understanding and production, there are areas of commonality across disciplines.

Arts and Humanities disciplines, due to their inherent subjective nature, are ripe for decolonisation practice and in language studies there is much to be gleaned. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o reminds us that ‘[t]he domination of a people's language by the languages of the colonising nations was crucial to the domination of the mental universe of the colonised’ (Ngũgĩ, 1987, p. 16); in the discipline of language, we see this clearly.

‘The decolonization of German studies as it is currently practiced encourages us to take a critical look at the discipline and to prepare for an undoing of oppressive structures that have shaped pedagogies, theories and curricula at the core of our field’ (Criser & Knott, 2019, p. 151), in recognition of the need, preparation has already occurred; the imperative for action is implicit in acknowledgement of the imbalance. The ability to prepare is itself a colonialist privilege and for those under the yoke of cultural and scholarly malnourishment, every moment counts. Criser and Knott acknowledge the easily evidenced gains that stand to be made from decolonisationary efforts, through access and participation by ‘students who might otherwise not see themselves represented and empowered in the German classroom’ (Criser & Knott, 2019, p. 152), clearly using decolonisation to lead to greater diversity. In accepting that the modes of teaching—that which is taught and the texts that propagate that thinking—are contributing factors to oppression, the moral imperative to remove, dismantle and replace such structures with more egalitarian ones is a given. Recognising—and voicing—that ‘[e]fforts to decolonize our teaching require that we investigate the spaces of our work, the content of our courses, particularly the privileging of Western knowledge, and our pedagogies, foremost with regard to their inclusivity’ (Criser & Knott, 2019, p. 152) suggests that there is an understanding of a shift of focus from an ‘us vs them’ mode of thinking to a ‘we and us’ counterpoint, but is still couched in a language that suggests a retention of power, maintaining imbalance. There is an implication here that through changing the scope of work, inclusivity will come. This model looks toward a finite position, an immutability that once inclusion has been ‘achieved’ it can be filed away in a box marked ‘complete’ and re-evaluated in ten (or more) years’ time—this is a limiting and limited position. It is agreed that ‘[c]ommitting to the decolonization of our field requires us to rethink our position’ (Criser & Knott, 2019, p. 159) but the rethinking of the position is still from the ‘our’—and therefore—exclusionary, position.

 It is important to hold present that German, Italian and (overwhelmingly) English are the languages core to 18th and 19th century global colonial exploitation/expansion and therefore the languages that, through critical examination could be key to a fuller understanding of the effects and benefits of decolonisation. Indeed ‘[c]ritical engagement with the canon is crucial for any decolonization work’ (Criser & Knott, 2019, p. 153).

Decolonisation in scientific fields could be argued to be more complex, due to the often-binary positioning of findings within many of those disciplines. Understanding that knowledge is not the preserve of the coloniser will allow for those studying to see themselves represented, thus allowing those students to feel and recognise that they have as much to offer to the discipline and broader society.

Decolonisation of science necessitates that ‘we should question our understanding of science as something that grew solely from the discoveries of a series of famous, western individuals [because] there are colonial roots in science that can arise from both commerce and imperialism’ (Dessent et al., 2021, p. 5). This acknowledgement highlights a clear understanding of the legacy and its ongoing effects. This is even more stark in maths which ‘is built on a modern history of elevating the achievements of one group of people [meaning] that the accomplishments of people of other genders and races have often been pushed aside’ (Crowell, 2023, p. 183). Working toward the ‘goal of demonstrating how knowledge drawn from diverse sources can lead to significant breakthroughs’ (Dessent et al., 2021, p. 7), facilitates nuanced discussion around the uses and purposes of scientific knowledge. It also allows for acknowledgment that ‘[t]he problems and concerns of wealthier nations are often very different from those in the developing world, as are the resources available to solve them’ (Dessent et al., 2021, p. 5) thus speaking directly to structural and systemic inequalities. The ability to see gives ability to confront and change.

Moving away from discipline specific literature, and because ‘colonization and its remnants permeate all facets of society’ (Shahjahan et al., 2021, p. 82), that seen as more universal is also illuminating. That students go to university to study subject(s) that they are interested in and look to the academics ‘in charge’ to guide that learning is not in dispute, however through a ‘lack of visibility of plural voices, or of people like them as having contributed to the subject’ students are implicitly being told that ‘you don’t belong, [and] that people like you have made no contribution to this subject area’ (Charles, 2019, p. 2). Within the context that ‘[c]urriculum and pedagogy is deeply implicated in grounding, validating, and/or marginalizing systems of knowledge production’ when it is implied that ‘people like you’ (Shahjahan et al., 2021, p. 74) have had no influence, the suggestion is that you too will have little or no influence. One should know one’s place.

An increase in plurality of voices, could aid the debasement of the dominant viewpoint(s) embedded within the ‘hidden curriculum’, which transmits ‘invisible values and epistemes’ (Shahjahan et al., 2021, pp. 76-77) to learners. The identification of this imbalance by students themselves is an acknowledged precursor to decolonisation calls in, and since, 2015. There is a tipping point where there is less tolerance by (some) students of ‘knowing their place’; a lowering of tolerance that must be matched by those who have the ability to rebalance and adjust. It should, however, be acknowledged that ‘developing student-actors to decolonise themselves through interventions that can be applied by all and target all’ (Stamatiou, 2022, p. 97) is important. Librarian Elizabeth Charles asserts that ‘knowledge is not a finite commodity’, contending that ‘[t]he aim is not to tell academics what should be included on their reading lists, but to make visible the lack of other voices’ opening a space where subject experts can ‘review their curriculum with a new critical perspective, to investigate and widen their scope on what else should be included’ (Charles, 2019, p. 4). This space is opened when it is understood that ‘we are all the product of the society we live in and thus we all have unconscious biases that we need to be aware of and check against’ (Charles, 2019, p. 4); the ability to check against these biases is predicated on acknowledging that they exist in the first place. These synergies are not solely academic; they could and are—as evinced by Harewood—be societally enriching. It is acknowledged that ‘[i]t may be challenging to find content from the global south, using indexes and abstracts in English, but it is not an insurmountable challenge’ (Charles, 2019, p. 6). If the aim is to look afresh at a system of knowledge acknowledgment which has grown and permeated over centuries—through these indexes and abstracts—recontextualising and looking for gaps (which exist purely because the system of acknowledgement deemed it necessary) will, by design, be difficult (but not impossible) to find. The missing component in this situation is evidence of will.

Interestingly—and logically—Shahjahan et al. ‘refrain from offering a “manifesto,” or a “best practices” statement [...] as it would simply reproduce the coloniality logic of universality’ (Shahjahan et al., 2021, p. 75), thus underscoring an awareness of the nuances needed to enact this work. A series of provocations and/or questions allows for the person doing the work to be actively engaged, as opposed to passively following a set of guidelines, offering ‘educators a framework within which to critically reflect on their own efforts’ (Shahjahan et al., 2021, p. 75)—safeguarding against the spectre of ‘thoughtlessness and distance from reality’ (Whitfield, 1981, p. 471) which can hinder more than help.

The broad themes point to several key concepts essential for change: understanding of the effects of colonisation and therefore the benefits available through its inversion; a guide to thought leading to action, as opposed to a guide to action only; representation and the potential benefits for those represented as well as wider society; power—who wields it and why. 

WHY DIVERSIFY—WHO BENEFITS?

The UK funding model for universities is ever more reliant on student numbers (and their attendant fees), leading to many universities creating more courses with broader appeal. Diversifying curricula in a sustained and committed manner could allow for this broadening to be actualised and solidified in a real and tangible way. The diversification of curricula through this model will benefit the University and its budget, and whilst it is argued—strongly—that this should, and must, not be the driving force in this work, it is contended that in order to placate and engage those who are and would be resistant to the necessary work, this can provide leverage. Power distribution and decision making in larger institutions is predicated on the status quo—the notion that things have always been the way that they are and that they work so there is no need to change them. The advent, and intensifying, of the financial squeeze on UK universities signifies and provides a point where this status quo is in danger. Without finance, universities will not exist; if universities do not exist, those who have vested interest will lose their position(s). In this we can see leverage to push past potential resistance. If there is no heart for decolonisation, there may be heart for sustainability of position. One obvious potential pitfall of such an approach is to support and sustain the very systems which are the reason for this work. This runs contrary to Audre Lorde’s invocation that the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house, but the contention is that once it can be proved that this is a way in which to sustain what exists, slowly, incrementally, what exists will be changed. In a manner of thinking, the master’s tools are not dismantling the masters house, it would be the master’s hubris and self-importance which would prove to be their undoing.

The key beneficiaries—even within the machinations discussed above—will be students. The ability to see oneself represented in the work that one is doing is key to progression and change. If ‘diversity is having a seat at the table, inclusion is having a voice, and belonging is having that voice heard’ (Fosslien & Duffy, 2019, p. 185) it is imperative that belonging is engendered. Thinking outward toward the theatre and performance industry, this initial group of students will take these ideas, innately held because of their education, into an industry that will have little choice but to listen to, and be guided by, them. They will be empowered to widely explore their craft and the stories that they can tell. The manifestation that ‘diversity is important in our institutions because our classrooms are the place where our students will find their voice’ (Goering et al., 2022, p. 88) will be seen in their practice and work. This will not only be a boon for students who have hitherto been marginalised, but for all students because ‘culturally relevant pedagogy and curricula benefit students across racial and ethnic groups’ (Rigell et al., 2022, p. 853). Painting a picture with limited colours and tools tends to be limiting; the imagination not given the freedom to imagine the world beyond. The same is true of education, not only in this narrow performing arts sense, but also in the broader, more holistic, sense of society beyond. There is little dispute that this is a long and difficult road but it seems imperative that the work that has gone before to get to a space where these ideas can be discussed, the calls from current (and previous) students, and the possibility to build the world that is often invoked through speech, is too important and vital to not actively and purposefully work toward.

The breadth of the stories told will be expanded and with it, our collective knowledge of humanity and what it means to be human will be enhanced and expanded, creating a clear path to equality and equity. Granted, telling stories—such is the wont of the artist—does not, in and of itself, change the world, but it can seed the thoughts and create a vision that can do just that.

In the purest academic sense, a space for more connected research can present itself. Understanding the geneses of knowledge and critically engaging with them will give rise to a more intricate and interconnected view on the world and humanity—it will, at the very least, begin to address the conditions that contributed to David Harewood’s psychotic episode.

We often make sense of the world through stories and, conversely, make the world make sense through stories; in making the base and breadth of the stories told and heard broader, we can, in effect, make the world bigger. We can include more, think more, see more cogently our communalities.

WHERE TO START?

To begin, there must be questions around the context in which those guiding the learning acquired that knowledge. It must be held foremost that pedagogical shift exists to ‘equip every student with [the] high level of life skills and competencies necessary for the twenty-first century’ (Cruz, 2020, p. 98). Most (if not all) of those senior educators who are making the choices that have marked effect on students now, were educated in the twentieth century or, at the very least, in the immediate shadow of the twentieth century, the context—or furnace—in which their knowledge was forged has markedly (and rightfully) changed.

Looking explicitly to the codification of White Supremacy, is it noted that in teacher training ‘white supremacy and anti-Blackness [are] a normalised tenet of Western schooling’ (Cushing, 2022, p. 45) and that these ‘raciolinguistic ideologies are woven by design into teacher education policy assemblages in terms of curricula, assessments and pedagogical materials’ (Cushing, 2022, p. 46). This normalisation can be traced through the schooling environment that educators are inculcated in and by. To counteract this, these biases—or normalising traits—are to be uncovered and actively engaged with and challenged in the teaching and pedagogical understandings that underpin that teaching. The intersectionality of identity, beginning with those educating, must be better understood, or at the very least be brought consciously, to the fore, in decision making and the selection and dissemination of learning material. This necessitates a humility in teaching and the acceptance that not everything is known, or can be known, by one individual—mindful of the dictionary definition of ‘diversity’ as comprising of different elements.

The use of ‘accepted wisdom’ is key to the perpetuation of things as they are. The inability or systemic impulse to not question is encoded in the ways in which knowledge is ‘created’ and disseminated. Looking to the culture of land acknowledgement can be instructive in the critique of knowledge systems and understanding(s) of why concepts are taught in the way that they are. It is quite striking that land acknowledgements are commonplace where there is significant lived memory and/or living reminder of the violence inherent in the inequalities that presaged many modern societies. Such land acknowledgements are de rigueur in Australian society, being in usage since the 1970s, gaining prominence in the past 20-30 years after the Mabo decision in 1992 (Meyers & Mugambwa, 1993). In ‘overturning the doctrine of terra nullis, which assumed that Australia was unoccupied at the time of British settlement’ (Hill, 1995, p. 304) these declarations serve as reminders, at the inception of interaction, that those who are currently on the land are not necessarily those who were first settled. They are an acknowledgement of displacement, creating space to ‘raise awareness about histories that are often suppressed or forgotten’ (Friedler, 2018). How can this be used in pedagogy? Simply put, an acknowledgement of where the knowledge held as sacrosanct came from, makes clear (or raises questions over and about) the knowledge that it may well have displaced, allowing for a reasoned, informed and purposeful critique of colonialism and its effect(s). It is notable that such land acknowledgements are also seen in Canada and parts of the USA but not in the UK whose colonial history, arguably, is the reason for the displacement in all of those areas. Knowing where there may be gaps or suppression of knowledge, creates the space by which these voids can be investigated and brought to light.

Direct alternatives to the knowledge being imparted is to be sought. These alternatives may prove to yield more and deeper connection to the material studied. For a salient example, ‘many acting spaces do not point out that the most common formations and activities in acting classes are in fact ideologies borne of African thought and ways of understanding the world, such as the formation of the circle, improvisation […] musical theatre’ (Luckett & Shaffer, 2016, p. 2), knowing this raises questions of equality, creating space for discussion(s) around equality of dramatic practices in the West. If something that is quintessentially understood as a Western practice was appropriated from elsewhere, what else is being missed, what else is being obfuscated and, more importantly, why? Who stands to gain? Using this as a starting point in a shared learning space can yield positive unforeseen results.

Knowing where we are and moving in the reverse direction to the genesis can yield and uncover riches that have been obfuscated, a suppression that may have led to the hiding of knowledges and ways of being. Understanding this can facilitate a bridging beyond where we are to where we could be. Working with what is accepted will ultimately lead to a facsimile of a facsimile which in application leads to a blurring of definition, tending toward the middle of the road, a hall of mirrors, a feedback loop.

WHERE TO LOOK?

Looking is an essential verb. Looking facilitates seeing. Seeing facilitates, and encourages, creating. Creation necessitates change. Active engagement in decolonisation work (see Winter et al., 2022; Moghli & Kadiwal, 2021; Arshad, 2024) provides scholarship to which one can turn, but that turning must be done in a critically engaged manner. The inherent biases which guide personal thinking and the way in which the world is seen, can lead to confirmation and consensus bias; this must be challenged and consciously worked with.

Other practical and active modes include asking the students. A guide to this can be glimpsed in Udoewa’s radical participatory design which offers a salient meta-methodology which ‘includes the community members in all activities of all phases of the design process and in all interpretation, decision-making, and planning between design activities’ (Udoewa, 2022, p. 15). Given that calls for decolonisation gained traction after various student led protests and movements it would seem obvious for this to be a starting point. There is a disparity in ‘knowledge’ between teacher and learner insofar as hierarchy is concerned, but if we look at pedagogy as a mode of facilitating enquiry, where teaching is ‘imbued with a profound trust in people and their creative power’ (Freire, 2017, p. 48), there is an impetus for this hierarchy to be challenged. Indeed, embedding of colonial practice is based explicitly on a hierarchical imposition—it could be argued that the first duty of decolonial practice is to debase, problematise and—much like land acknowledgment—make clear the hierarchical position. Till, at least, the mid-twentieth century, it was clear that ‘Europe’s universities were deeply invested in teaching the colonised to accept their subservience and know their rank and place in the economic, social, and intellectual hierarchy of global knowledge production’ (Rangan, 2021, p. 62); this impetus, whilst not always explicit, lingers. If ‘sunlight is […] the best of disinfectants’ (Brandeis, 1913, p. 10), knowing where the power is held, who it is held by, and for what reason will likely lead to an understanding of how it can be used, challenged and/or changed to initiate the desired outcome. That is not to say that the holding and usage of power is inherently bad but understanding the impetus and uses/abuses of that hierarchical position, is important.

Within academic institutions—especially, in the UK, for those that report to the Research Excellence Framework (REF)—there is good reason for active, impactful, research. This research, naturally, should inform teaching and therefore have demonstrable impact on society (REF, 2025); pivoting toward this in departmental and wider institutional aims should be actively engaged with as an embodied aspect of research instead of a bolted-on box-ticking exercise which much decolonisational work has come to be regarded by some (see Shain et al., 2021, p. 928). This research, however, should not reside in edicts and statements but in the work being done. This poses a challenge to how research is seen to exist, but in holding true to the notion that research delivers ‘change or benefit to the economy, society, culture, public policy or services, health, the environment or quality of life, beyond academia’ (REF, 2025) this is not an incompatible aim. Active research must involve all who are affected, which, by definition, is society at large. If researchers are student facing it could be that some of this work becomes integral to curriculum—there could be teaching activity which compels students to use archives, to trace histories, to find alternatives; in doing this not only will the curriculum become decolonised through the eyes of those that are being taught but collaboration and mutual understanding can be fostered, thus breaking down some of the hierarchical barriers as discussed but also facilitating research skills and critical curiosity for the next generation of gatekeepers and taste makers. If it is not possible or desirable to set such work, seminar presentations and discussions could be planned to facilitate and stimulate thought and discussion around specific points of contention. The use of ‘student voice’ which should be entered into with ‘a willingness to shift power relationships and practices by taking seriously the contributions of students’ (Matthews & Dollinger, 2022, p. 567), is consistently encouraged and, in the UK, formalised and reported publicly via the annual National Student Survey (NSS). It could be that this student voice is actively encouraged to engage in some of the issues that academics are aiming to understand to teach difficult concepts. Basic pedagogical process suggests that there should be baseline assessment to evidence growth—this is a perfect way in which to accommodate and enact this pedagogical aim. Given that the NSS is used by universities to encourage application(s) and therefore attract student fees, which are increasingly responsible for a greater proportion of annual income, the commercial impetus for such work is easy to see and understand for those who may remain cynical.

CONCLUSIONS

Morriera and Luckett pose questions that academics can ask to decolonise their classrooms with the aim of encouraging ‘academics across faculties to unearth some of the norms, assumptions and everyday practices that are taken for granted and which may be entangled in the “hidden curriculum”’ (Morreira & Luckett, 2018). Here, it is suggested that this cause, if furthered, and the ability to use the tried, tired and tested excuses of the difficulty of disentanglement are made more difficult to assert or defend, this can become a reality. The way to enact change, is to change. Work such as this is only as good as those who enact the provocations within, else there is a very well debated argument which remains just that, an argument; keeping the hidden curriculum intact and suppressing the ability of students to reach their full potential. In reading and engaging with such work there must be a will to bring it to life, given that, ‘[t]he success of decolonization depends on scholars and instructors in small programs and large departments alike, who are ready and eager to embrace decolonization as essential and imperative’ (Criser & Knott, 2019, p. 153). It is unlikely to be easy, and what is opined above—as with all knowledge—is open to challenge, but in that challenge comes engagement and through that engagement comes movement.

The benefits of this course of action are manifest and plenty. If we are to work constructively toward a society where all are enabled, empowered and prompted to be the best that they can be, then this becomes a moral imperative. The role of education is to enable those educated to live a ‘more rewarding life over which [they] have more control’ (Brighouse, 2006, p. 37); in order to do this there must be ‘a wider rather than a narrower range of skills’ (Brighouse, 2006, p. 29) facilitating power over what happens to an individual through the course of their lives. These skills are embedded in what it is that is taught, and the vantage point from which that teaching comes. To engender a wider, more nuanced view of the world, a wider, more nuanced view of the world must be recognised—diversifying curricula by examining its colonial roots with an aim to engender an anti-racist approach, allows for that to happen.

Guarding against performative allyship must be a consideration as ‘long lasting change and system reform doesn’t happen overnight’ (Kalina, 2020, p. 480) because this type of allyship ‘excuses people from making deeper personal sacrifices’ (Kalina, 2020, p. 479). Indeed, it is argued by Abdi, that the word ‘ally’ should not be used, that it should be substituted for the word ‘solidarity’, as solidarity ‘requires us to relinquish power and work through tensions and conflicts, [whereas] allyship work often risks very little, having only to deal with social discomfort’ (Abdi, 2021). This is pertinent in the drive for a diversification of curriculum because ‘the dynamics of power in collaborative spaces, often results in marginalized groups carrying the burden of educating, sharing narratives of trauma and holding to account the ‘allies’’ (Abdi, 2021)—for there to be a sustained progression, this dichotomy must be challenged and changed—a coalition (as defined by Dabiri, 2021) fermented in solidarity, is needed. This semantic argument compels toward an active engagement as opposed to a passive act which is ‘motivated by some type of reward’ (Kalina, 2020, p. 478)—this is to be betterment of all of society.

To embed equality there must be inclusion; to engender inclusion there must be diversity. This drive for a more diverse curriculum works within that chain of command from whichever end that can be affected actively and measurably. It is hoped that by making these tenets and mode(s) of thinking intrinsic in creation, that the creation, baring the hallmarks of its cognitive genesis, will lead to obvious benefits for us all and through self-reflexive thought and improvement, will continue to warp, shift and bend toward deeper and further reaching equity and equality. 

SUGGESTED CITATION

Daly, D. (2025). How and Why to Diversify Curricula. ArtsPraxis, 12 (2), pp. 1-22.

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Notes:

[1] This data aggregates graduate outcomes across disciplines and is therefore not specific to the performing arts where full time, permanent employment is scarce.

[2] Harewood graduated from RADA (Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts) in 1987; he became President of the school in 2024.

See Also

Daly - Social Justice and Fringe Theatre in Higher Education

Daly - History, Theatre and Self

Dermot Daly is a researcher, lecturer, director, dramaturg and actor. He is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Drama, Leeds Conservatoire, a lecturer at Leeds School of Arts, Leeds Beckett University and a two-time Black British Theatre Award nominated director. He is the editor of Being Black and British: Before, During and After Drama School (Routledge). Journal publications include articles in Theatre Dance and Performance Training, Scene, Journal of Class & Culture and ArtsPraxis.

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