I have something to confess.
I’m a white, middle-class man, who went to a good university and lives in the Home Counties. My parents both went to university. I grew up in a comfortable suburb of a big city. I’m not from a farming background. I didn’t step onto a farm until adulthood. I’ve never had to worry about putting food on the table for my children.
While I’m deeply grateful for the opportunities that background has given me, I’ve often felt embarrassed by my privilege. In conversations about JEDI (Justice, Equity, Diversity and Inclusion) in food and farming, I’ve sometimes felt like a fraud. But I’m learning – slowly and sometimes awkwardly – that the point isn’t to shrink away from privilege. It’s to use it differently – and to share power better.
In the first half of 2026, I joined a cohort of 12 civil society leaders determined to accelerate how JEDI shows up in our work and across the sector. The JEDI leadership of the sustainable food movement course was hosted by Sustain and Eating Better, facilitated by the amazing Letesia Gibson of New Ways and kindly funded by Farming the Future. It was a deep dive into visible, conscious, relational and courageous leadership. It culminated in an in-person workshop in Nourish Hub in West London.
There’s far too much richness from the course to capture in a single blog. So instead, here are five personal shifts the programme sparked in me.
1. FROM “We need a separate JEDI strategy” TO “JEDI belongs everywhere”
JEDI isn’t a bolt‑on. It’s the foundation. It can shape our mission, our programmes, our recruitment, our communications – everything. And when it does, everything changes.
2. FROM: “There must be a best-practice blueprint to follow” TO “There is no template – bring your whole self”
There’s no perfect model to copy. What matters is showing up, being vulnerable, being aware of positionality, trusting instinct, being brave – and yes, wearing my “JEDI pants,” as one of the other leaders put it.
3. FROM: “Better to stay silent than risk getting it wrong” TO “Silence is not an option”
I will get things wrong. But speaking out against racism and oppression matters more than protecting my own comfort.
4. FROM: “Representation is too hard to shift in overwhelmingly white sectors” TO “We must help change the sectors themselves”
I, and we, can influence who gets platformed, who gets recruited, who gets listened to. We can redistribute power. We can help reshape the reputation – and reality – of the charity, environmental, advocacy, food and farming sectors. Tools like the RACE Report will be increasingly useful here.
5. FROM: “I feel burdened, confused and guilty” TO “I feel responsible – and energised”
I still don’t have all the answers. But I now see JEDI leadership as an opportunity, not a tickbox, as cliched as that might sound. A responsibility, not a burden. Baby steps can turn into giant strides.
It’s both who we are and what we do. It’s becoming more comfortable with conflict and tension. It’s understanding our own power and positionality. It’s choosing bravery over silence. It’s creating spaces for unlearning and learning out loud. It’s using power deliberately – and sharing it better. It’s listening more deeply, seeking feedback more routinely, and being willing to be changed by what we hear.
In short, everything. I knew before we started that food ethics and JEDI overlapped – after all, we’ve done work on food justice for many years and more recently on allyship and what that looks like when embedded across values and practice.
But if we stop and think about it, food ethics asks us to interrogate the food system through questions like:
JEDI asks the same questions. Food ethics and JEDI are inextricably intertwined. We have no excuses but to act.