How identity shapes research: a conversation with Prof. Victoria Showunmi

Prof. Victoria Showunmi is a professor of interdisciplinary studies in gender, race, and identity and Vice-Dean for Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI) at the Institute of Education, University College London (UCL). She visited Rīga Stradiņs University (RSU) to lead a seminar and workshop as part of the European project INCLUDE, which explores how Gender Equality Plans are implemented across biomedical institutions. Prof. Showunmi is internationally recognised for her work on intersectionality, leadership, and social justice, and has led major European initiatives on equality and diversity, including a four-year COST Action on intersectionality.

Let’s start from the beginning – where did you grow up?

I was adopted by a German-Jewish family. They raised me in Somerset and Devon, but you can imagine their background since they were German and Jewish in England. That’s really the beginning of intersectionality for me. 

How did they come to adopt you?

I actually started my life – believe it or not – through a train window!

At five months old, my biological mother handed me through a train window to the woman who became my mother. She had been fostering children and was in London meeting parents to say she was stopping. From then I was with my parents who were very upper class. We lived first in North Devon, Barnstaple, in a very large house, the sort you see on TV with a driveway and tennis courts. Later we moved to Nether Stowey in Somerset, to a house called the Clock House. 

So you grew up in quite a homogenous society? 

Very much so. I was the only Black person. I went to a tiny village school that had maybe 30 or 40 children, farmer’s kids. I was a very curious and bright child, but there was active resistance at school against me going there. 

How did your mother help you navigate that?

She didn’t really understand me. She was born in 1918 and had me late. It was like having a great-grandmother looking after me. She meant well. She once gave me a poem to explain difference: “Flo was a little white girl dropped in snow,” and “you were a little brown girl dropped in gravy.” She thought that would help me tell everyone who I was. I was also very critical as a child and could tell that this wasn't going to work. My mother had a kind of missionary, saviour perspective: doing good things, seeing my biological parents, and Africans in general, as heathens. 

How did you get to your position now?

I was always top of the class, and I didn’t want to be, because I didn't like the attention. My mother didn’t really want me to pursue full education; she put me into deportment and elocution lessons to be a “lady of the house” – how to stand, host, polish the silver, make scones. It was a bit Downton Abbey. At 16 I went to college for hotel management, following my mother’s son who was a chef. I was top of the class again, but when I tried to enter top hotels as a trainee manager, the door didn’t open. My name then was Victoria Lane; people didn’t expect to see someone that looked like me when I turned up. 

So I moved into teaching organisational management, which I enjoyed, especially with vocational students. I got involved with the union and women’s development, and I wanted to get to London. When I did, I was voted chair of the women’s section of a London-wide union.

I turned up in my Doc Martens and jean jacket, ready to talk gender, and they said, 'This is the gender group, not the race group.'

They weren’t used to a Black woman in the gender space. That moment crystallised intersectionality for me – race, gender, class overlapping. I went on to do my undergraduate degree in my late twenties, then a master’s, then a doctorate. 

And what is the context in which you visited RSU?

I’m a Professor of Interdisciplinary Studies in Gender, Race, and Identity. I chose “interdisciplinary” deliberately because I can connect with different sectors, like education, or business. I’m also the Vice-Dean for Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion in my faculty, which is the UCL Institute of Education. It’s known for teacher education and the social sciences of education. I’m involved in European projects and I led the intersectionality strand of a COST Action for four years. The project I’m at RSU with is INCLUDE, where I lead the UCL part looking at Gender Equality Plans (GEPs) and how they’re implemented within biomedical schools. 

Is this your first time visiting Latvia?

First time in Latvia. I didn’t know much beforehand, but I have been to Lithuania. I met Diāna Kiščenko in Coimbra, Portugal, through INCLUDE, and she invited me. 

Who was in the audience at the seminar?

The audience at RSU was mixed: staff, students, even a few undergrads who slipped in and worried about missing class. They were international – some from Finland – and made great contributions. 

Was there anything you hoped people would take away from what you spoke about today?

I work like a jigsaw. I start small so people feel comfortable in their own space. I gave a short lecture – about an hour – to position race, gender, and class as pillars of intersectionality, then moved into a workshop. I’d asked people to do some pre–thinking, for example, reflecting on the “single story” idea – and to bring something that reminded them of intersectionality. I wanted them to reflect, to challenge themselves, and to understand their own identity.

If you’re going to do anything in research, you need to know who you are first. 

And in terms of applying this to research and projects – what were you asking people to be aware of?

I'd like people to be aware of how they deal with data and how they interpret it; what it means when they write research; how conscious they are of bias and subjectivity.

We talked about how assumptions creep in and how intersectional thinking can recalibrate those assumptions. People appreciated having a space where they could talk freely about difficult topics – from imposter syndrome to how global politics and local debates (abortion rights, for example) shape what researchers do and their responsibilities to the wider society. The point wasn’t to deliver a single “gold star” example but to build momentum for collective, systematic change through ongoing conversation. 

Is it more common in the natural sciences to think that data is objective?

Yes. My job is to shift the frame slightly. Intersectionality is the discipline of asking the harder question about what you’ve taken for granted. 

When researchers begin developing an intersectional awareness, what kinds of new questions or ways of thinking does it open up for them? 

Intersectional awareness can help frame questions differently. Why are so many Black women dying in childbirth? Is someone assuming they don’t need pain relief? Why is menopause discourse only prominent now that white women are talking about it? Why do cancers in Black men and women present later or more aggressively – is it access, recognition, or something in the pathway? Looking at inequalities in outcomes make the case for intersectional analysis. 

Is implementing intersectionality just about assembling a diverse team, or can one researcher do this alone?

A diverse team helps, but a single researcher can still do the work – if they do the work to understand.

If you’re analysing gender, also look for women from minority backgrounds in your data. Otherwise you’re stuck with men versus women and you miss the lives lived at the intersections.

It is more work. It’s easier to name things and leave it at that. 

What issues have you encountered when Black people are left out of consideration?

One example is how automated systems fail to detect darker skin – lights that don’t switch on, taps that don’t flow. Once you start thinking like that, you see implications everywhere – including in your own methods and instruments. 

When political tensions rise or people feel under threat, they often retreat into familiar positions or overlook their own biases. In today’s global climate, does this make it harder to engage in the reflective, critical work that intersectional research requires?

Yes – which is why you need to know yourself. If you’re about to walk a hard road, you put on the right shoes. Identity work is not indulgent; it’s preparation. We discussed how to respond when colleagues dismiss critical or sociological approaches as “not real research” – how to argue for robustness, reliability, and ethics beyond a single positivist line, and how to hold your ground when your approach looks “messy.” 

Is there any advice you have for early-career researchers?

Be yourself. Be authentic. Don’t try to be “that great researcher” you’ve imagined; your challenges are your own. Value networks – internal, local, international – and use them. Read and read and read. Follow your passion for change. I see myself as a courageous leader who uses equality, diversity, and inclusion as a catalyst for transformational cultural change – EDI on its own can become abstract; EDI tied to culture changes things.

And remember: research is messy. If you force it into straight lines, you miss the truth.

Let the work lead you – and stay curious.