Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, Justice, and Belonging (DEIJB) are not political talking points. They are the foundational values of any educational institution committed to creating safe, supportive, and inclusive learning environments. This is not just a philosophical debate; it is a matter of child protection and safety. When students do not feel seen, valued, or that they belong, they are at greater risk of disconnection, disengagement, and harm. This can manifest as anxiety, school refusal, increased vulnerability to bullying or exploitation, self-harm, or even withdrawal from learning altogether—and for many marginalized students, these outcomes are far too common.
In this moment of political uncertainty and fear, one thing remains unchanged: students must come first. LGBTQ+ students, BIPOC students, and other marginalized groups are not just buzzwords in a policy debate; they are real children in our classrooms who need safety, support, and affirmation to learn and thrive.
Over the past few years, the language of inclusion—terms like diversity, equity, and belonging—has been politicized, reframed, and in some cases, deliberately erased. But the need behind that language hasn’t disappeared. A recent Wall Street Journal article implied that educators and schools are engaging in deception when they rename or reframe this work. But I see it differently.
This article isn’t about defending acronyms. It’s about reminding educators that our responsibility is to protect, uplift, and care for our students—all of them. Regardless of the language we’re allowed to use, that purpose doesn’t change.
What’s Actually Happening in Schools
In real classrooms in international schools across the globe, educators are still showing up for their students. They’re using preferred names and pronouns, just like they always have when someone says, “Please call me Tony instead of Anthony.” They’re creating space for students to share their stories, actively sourcing diverse materials that reflect a range of cultures, perspectives, and identities. And they’re doing more than just providing resources; they’re engaging students in the process, asking for their feedback, and involving them in shaping learning environments that feel respectful and inclusive of who they are.
The shift from terms like “DEI” to “belonging” isn’t cosmetic; it’s clarifying. As Brené Brown has noted, belonging is being accepted for who you are; fitting in is being accepted for being like everyone else. Educators all over the world are trying to build environments where students don’t feel pressure to conform, but are empowered to be their authentic selves. At my school, and at those of many of my colleagues, we use tools like Universal Design for Learning (UDL) not just to create flexible lesson plans for diverse learning needs, but to ensure students of all cultural backgrounds and identities see themselves in what they learn. Belonging allows us to refocus, not on what’s controversial, but on what’s essential: emotional safety, representation, and human connection.
Of course, there are tensions. Some schools have felt the need to remove any mention of DEI from websites, and to “sanitize” language to avoid political fallout. In regions where anti-LGBTQ legislation has intensified, we’ve had to remove Safe Space stickers, take books off library shelves, and adjust how we talk about identity in the classroom. But the work hasn’t stopped. It’s just adapted. Many of us are still finding ways to show students they are seen, valued, and supported, whether it’s through a quiet gesture, a lesson that includes their narrative, or simply being a trusted adult they can come to without fear.
Why This Matters Globally
International schools are, by design, diverse. Our students come from various nationalities, languages, belief systems, and lived experiences. Many are multilingual, third-culture kids, or navigating complex identities in countries that may not reflect who they are at home. In these settings, creating a sense of belonging isn’t an optional enhancement; it’s a core part of ensuring that students can fully engage in learning.
Research consistently shows that when students feel emotionally safe and connected to their school community, they are more likely to attend, participate, and succeed. A child who fears being bullied for who they are, or who simply never sees their identity reflected in the classroom, is not placed in a position to thrive. Belonging is not about making students “comfortable” in a superficial way; it’s about creating the conditions for deep learning, personal growth, and healthy development.
For United States-supported schools abroad, this responsibility takes on even more weight. These schools are not just educating children; they are seen as ambassadors of American values. But I ask, if fairness, dignity, and opportunity are values America claims to uphold, then we must apply them to all students, not just those whose identities are deemed socially or politically convenient. International schools have a unique opportunity, and a moral imperative, to model what inclusive, ethical education looks like on a global stage.
Doing the Work Without Naming It
There is robust research that highlights proven strategies to foster safety and belonging for all students who are vulnerable, marginalized, or misunderstood—like enumerated anti-bullying policies, student-led clubs, inclusive curriculum, and professional training. However, in some countries, these strategies are easier said than done.
DEI is not a “special program;” it’s the foundation of effective, ethical, and trauma-informed teaching. But when the political climate forces schools to strip these terms from websites, public communications, or curriculum documents, the work doesn’t disappear. Therefore, we must adapt.
So what can educators do when it may not be safe, allowed, or fully supported to name the work?
If You Can’t Say “Diversity,” You Can Still Honor Difference
Diversity isn’t just about demographics; it’s about recognizing the richness of human experience in all its forms. You can embed this into your classroom by broadening whose voices are heard, whose histories are told, and whose knowledge is valued. Invite students to bring in music, stories, or traditions from their families. Normalize code-switching, multilingualism, and cultural variation.
Most of all, avoid tokenism. Don’t just “celebrate” diversity, deepen your understanding of it. Let students show you how they move through the world, and respond with curiosity, not control.
Even if “equity” is off-limits, you can use differentiated instruction, flexible grouping, and formative feedback to ensure students get what they need. That is equity. Whether you’re scaffolding assignments for language learners, offering sensory-friendly spaces, or designing around varied learning profiles, you are already doing equity work.
Inclusion isn’t a slogan. It’s a practice. Use UDL principles to ensure that your curriculum reflects diverse stories, perspectives, and entry points. Give students options in how they express themselves. Offer materials that speak to both their lived experience and their imagination. Inclusion lives in these everyday choices. When we design for those at the margins, everyone benefits—just like curb ramps originally built for wheelchairs now help parents with strollers, travelers with luggage, and workers with carts. Inclusion is the curb-cut effect in action.
Justice doesn’t always look like policy. Sometimes it’s quiet intervention. It’s responding to biased language. It’s revisiting a classroom rule that disadvantages a certain group. It’s advocating in a staff meeting when you know a decision might disproportionately affect neurodivergent or multilingual students. These actions matter, even when no one’s watching.
You don’t have to say the word belonging to make students feel it. It starts with the small things that build trust—like greeting them by their preferred name and making the effort to pronounce it correctly. That simple act says, I see you and you matter. It means more than you might think. Celebrate progress, not just performance. Recognize the effort, the growth, the bounce back after a setback. Create space for students to share what matters to them—their interests, their cultures, their dreams. When students feel emotionally safe and valued, they show up more fully. They take risks, stay engaged, and reach further—because they know they’re not alone.
If You Can’t Publicly Advocate, Lead with Integrity Anyway
Being an advocate is more than displaying a safe space sticker or using the right hashtags. Performative gestures mean little without the follow-through. The real work shows up in the integrity of how you show up—for every student, every day.
Sometimes, the most transformational actions are the quiet ones: reflecting honestly, analyzing data through an equity lens, or engaging in trusted conversations with colleagues to unpack patterns and push your practice forward. Review your discipline records. Look at who’s participating, who isn’t, and ask why. Even if you can't speak publicly, you can still act with purpose.
You may not be able to use the same language. But the commitment to student wellbeing, equity, and inclusion doesn’t require a label. Research shows that inclusive practices—whatever we call them—protect students’ mental health, fuel academic success, and create the conditions for connection.
What makes this work real isn’t your job title or your social media presence. It’s your integrity.
Recentering Our Focus
There is growing rhetoric around restoring “merit-based opportunity”—as if opportunity exists in a vacuum. But merit means nothing without access, without safety, without representation. If students can’t show up as their full selves, they’re not given a fair shot; they’re navigating an invisible obstacle course. The work of inclusion removes those obstacles so that all students can thrive.
Inclusion doesn’t threaten merit. It makes it possible.
This work was never about the acronyms. It was never about branding or performative slogans or trendy professional development sessions. It has always been about people—students, and the educators who believe in their right to feel safe, seen, and supported at school.
The language around inclusion may change. The policies may shift. The pressure may increase. But our purpose has always been clear: to create learning environments where every student can show up fully, be met with care, and be treated with dignity, respect, and worth. Even when we’re told we can’t say the words, we can still do the work. We can teach responsively. We can interrupt harm. We can reflect honestly. We can center voices that are usually left out. We can listen more, speak up when it matters, and build quietly when we must. This is the work of educators. And it doesn’t disappear just because someone told us not to name it.
So stay rooted in your “why.” Let your students guide you. Let your integrity lead you. And know this: in the silence, your impact still speaks.
Further Reading and Resources
For educators looking to deepen their practice in student-centered, inclusive education, especially in high-risk or restrictive contexts, these resources provide research-backed strategies and frameworks:
Steele & Cohn-Vargas (2013): Identity Safe Classrooms, Grades K–5 – Corwin Press: https://us.sagepub.com/en-us/nam/book/identity-safe-classrooms
CASEL: Culturally and Linguistically Responsive Practices – https://drc.casel.org/uploads/sites/3/2019/02/Equity-Social-and-Emotional-Learning-A-Cultural-Analysis.pdf
Jagers, Rivas-Drake & Borowski (2018): Equity & SEL: A Cultural Analysis – Read PDF: https://drc.casel.org/uploads/sites/3/2019/02/Equity-Social-and-Emotional-Learning-A-Cultural-Analysis.pdf
International Institute for Restorative Practices (2016): Defining Restorative – iirp.edu: https://www.iirp.edu/images/pdf/Defining-Restorative_Nov-2016.pdf
Education Trust-West: Data Equity Walk Toolkit – west.edtrust.org: https://west.edtrust.org/data-equity-walk-toolkit/
ASCD (2015): Looking at Data Through an Equity Lens – ascd.org: https://www.ascd.org/el/articles/looking-at-data-through-an-equity-lens
Russell, S. T., Bishop, M. D., Saba, V. C., James, I., & Ioverno, S. (2021). Promoting school safety for LGBTQ and all students. Policy Insights from the Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 8(2), 160–166. https://doi.org/10.1177/23727322211031938
Elmeka Henderson holds an Education Specialist degree and is a Nationally Certified School Psychologist. She is an international educational psychologist and school counselor with over 15 years of experience supporting students, educators, and school communities across the United States of America, Asia, and Africa. Trained in educational neuropsychology and trauma-informed practices, she has served in multifaceted roles—school psychologist, counselor, learning support coordinator, and safeguarding leader shaping inclusive systems that attend to the academic, emotional, and social development of all learners. Elmeka specializes in building sustainable student support frameworks rooted in cultural responsiveness, restorative approaches, and equity-driven safeguarding. Her work has supported neurodivergent learners, students with significant and multiple disabilities, and LGBTQ+ youth in complex contexts. She has led professional learning initiatives across international schools, helping teams move from policy to practice in areas such as inclusive education, mental health, trauma care, and child protection. As a regular facilitator with Association of International Schools in Africa (AISA), International School Counselor Association (ISCA), and International Schools Services (ISS), Elmeka is widely respected for her ability to translate complex student support needs into practical, culturally grounded systems—strengthening the capacity of schools to serve every learner with dignity and care.