“Whenever I get stuck on something, I'm like, 'What would I do if I wasn't afraid? What would I write if I wasn't afraid? What would I say in this situation if I wasn't afraid?'” - Phoebe Waller-Bridge
In my first week at university, between some health and safety workshops and attempting to steal five minutes away from socialising to finally decorate my room, I sat in my college lecture theatre with a sniffy nose (freshers’ flu <3) and was, for the first time, introduced to the Laidlaw program. I instantly knew I wanted to do it. Then came fear, uncertainty, and hesitation. Two years on, it is no doubt the best thing I have done during my degree.
Perhaps it is hard to disentangle how I have grown through the programme from my broader experience of early adulthood, but Laidlaw has been a consistent thread throughout my time at university. This reflection is an attempt to pick out the major lessons I have learned, which have come up time and again in different fonts. This wouldn’t be a Laidlaw reflection without a lovely tricolon framework: you’ve heard of the 3Cs; these are my three 3Fs: Flexibility, Faith and Fear. The most significant lesson I have learned over the past two years is to follow fear, not to be fearless, but to acknowledge the fear and do it anyway. When you experience the instinctive sense that you should do something, the apprehension you feel indicates that you genuinely care about the outcome. Supported by faith in yourself and your abilities, and by flexibility in your approach, fear can only lead to growth. I have applied these 3Fs throughout the programme, but here I focus on two key elements: the Research Project and Leadership in Action. I structure my reflections around my initial fears and consider how following through enabled me to make more meaningful contributions and grow significantly in the process.
Research Project- Summer 2025:
During my first summer, I spent six weeks researching the evolving cultural identity of young people within the Kashubian community, an Indigenous group in northern Poland, an identity I’m proud to be a part of through my paternal family. This research project gave me the chance to explore my interests academically, having recently discovered social anthropology through an optional first-year module and being keen to dip my toe into sociolinguistics. But equally, it was a chance to reconnect with my roots. I had always considered myself Polish; however, after spending the summer learning about the struggle for Kashubian independence, I broadened my understanding of my cultural identity to include Kashubian as a distinct identity alongside Polish.
My first fear stemmed from several moments in the research process when I faced significant setbacks. I originally planned to devote half of my time to interviewing cultural figures and the other half to surveying local high schools to collect firsthand data from young people. Unfortunately, because the research took place during the summer, students were on holiday. Despite sending emails months in advance, exam preparations meant I couldn't collect data. This caused considerable stress and raised concerns about the project's feasibility and potential outcomes, but it was also a great moment to practise flexibility. After making some adjustments, I secured additional interviews, including with university society leaders, teachers, and cultural figures, which gave me a more holistic view, as they all worked with young people in different ways.
Another challenge was refining my research question. My initial plan to focus on cultural symbols and how they could strengthen cultural identity crumbled during the literature review, when I found evidence of a shift away from traditional cultural symbols. However, this discovery significantly informed both the interview questions and the research question, and it became a central theme throughout the report. In this case, fear and hesitation led to a different, but in many ways stronger, research project.
Speaking with my supervisor was also extremely helpful. Their outside perspective helped me address my concerns and recognise that the entire project was not doomed. This reminded me that it is appropriate to discuss concerns with others and that a perfect project plan is not necessary from the outset. The instinctive doubt that arose during my research- was it useful? Was I exploring the right question? - led to several important breakthroughs. Each time I felt this doubt, I became less prone to catastrophising and better able to recognise that questioning my expectations and assumptions ultimately strengthened the project.
My biggest fear was a linguistic one. Having only ever used Polish in a domestic context, expanding it to an academic one by interviewing Kashubian academics and cultural figures in Polish felt extremely intimidating. I felt out of my depth and tried to combat it by doing tons of research on Kashubian history and culture (I think I probably read every journal article out there). I had felt a bit resigned knowing that I would not have data from young people themselves- I tried to construct my interview questions to adjust to these new research circumstances. But all this preparation could only go so far; at some point I had to accept there was nothing more I could do and have faith in myself and the work I had done. Although I considered adapting my research to do discourse analysis where I could easily gather data from social media communities without talking to a single person, I decided to push through the fear. I spoke to Kashubian academics about the political state of the culture; musicians about making alternative music in Kashubian- spanning rock, pop, rap, punk…; mothers and teachers about what it means to teach Kashubian language and culture to children. One conversation led me to discover that one of my family members (first cousin twice removed?) is a big name in Kashubian politics #nepotism. I saw hope all around me in a community battered and bruised from all sides, and it brought my faith in humanity back.
I travelled around Kashubia, reaching corners and crevices I had never explored on family trips to the region, and fell in love with its hills, lakes, and bilingual signs. I visited cultural landmarks, including the Kashubian museum in the (debated) capital, Kartuzy, and the tobacco festival, with musical performances in Kashubian. While I was there, Gdańsk was in the middle of a major political controversy over the newly opened “Nasi Chłopcy” (Our Boys) exhibition, which examined the lost history of Pomeranians (many of whom were Kashubian) in World War 2 who, under duress, were drafted into the army of the Third Reich. The controversy largely stemmed from the exhibition's name, with Polish public discourse arguing it was insensitive; the voices of Kashubians, who made up a large part of this history, were largely excluded. I was surrounded, all consumed by my research - it wasn’t something I was doing; it was something I was being. This felt like a stark contrast to my first year at Cambridge, filled with late-night library sessions, reading hundreds of journal articles, and feeling increasingly detached from this research and its impact in the real world. From a short sentence in an article’s abstract about its practical applications to living and experiencing my own research, I fell back in love with academia.
In my first summer, I learned that following fear can lead to stronger, better-informed research; it leads to so much learning, including meeting many interesting people, hearing their life stories, seeing their passion for their culture, and having fascinating conversations about how things are changing. In my first summer, I left Cambridge severely burnt out after the 1st-year Easter term, and I returned with faith in people, community, and revitalisation.
Leadership in Action- Summer 2026:
Coming into the Laidlaw programme, I was very focused on the research component, keen to dig my teeth into the academic world. The leadership in action component of the programme seemed like a mysterious volunteering-internship Frankenstein monster, something I’d deal with when I got to it. After my initial plans to organise my own LiA proved much harder than expected, I decided to apply for a central project. I had heard the creators of make_sense speak at the US Laidlaw conference, which I had the privilege of attending, and I was so impressed by their NGO model and the organisations they had worked with (2Good2Go; Back Market; etc.). Fast-forward to early July: I’m hopping on a plane to Medellín, Colombia, for the make_sense Americas central project, slightly petrified and massively doubtful that I’ll be able to make a real impact.
The organisation I worked with was Fundación SORA, which offers educational activities, meals, and a space in Comuna 13 for children, mothers, and older people. One of their core values is promoting good habits to drive positive change in individuals and the wider community. At first, I doubted how much our group of UK-based students could achieve in just six weeks; in hindsight, that was a valid feeling, and one our group shared. However, thanks to our partnership with local university volunteers, our solution spanned the full timeline. In other words, we preserved the organisation's past work by creating their website and Instagram posts to increase visibility; contributed to the present by running various workshops; and, most importantly, secured a sustainable future for the organisation through partnerships. This required practising trust in myself, my team, and the organisation we were working with and faith that our work had and will continue to have a positive impact.
One point of doubt that arose was how to navigate linguistic and cultural differences. Communicating across languages and cultures proved challenging at times. I learned that effective communication depends on an individual’s broader context, expectations, and personal identity, not solely on the context in which you are working with them. However, I expected this to be a much bigger problem than it was. In our last Laidlaw training in Cambridge, in preparation for the LiA, we discussed working in a different cultural context and experiencing different levels of acculturation. While my screen time on SpanishDict was at an all-time high since IB SL Spanish, I think I adapted pretty well to a new cultural context.
In one of our primary meetings with Sora, we held a “cultural exchange” between the organisations’ kids and our Laidlaw group, sharing our interests, facts about our cultures, and eating traditional snacks. This process of sharing, collaborating and comparing revealed far more similarities than differences between us. We instantly recognised the two biggest things that united us: dance and football. When we introduced where we were from, the kids would shout out the footballers they knew from our countries (Lewandowski!!!). When we played songs from each of our countries during musical statues, the kids put our dancing to shame with their reggaeton moves. Cultural exchange became a sort of childhood handshake - a little messy to begin with, but eventually an interdependent, pragmatic rhythm.
Of course, there were clashes too. We would wait for the children to arrive at the workshops, sometimes up to thirty minutes past the planned start time. The only thing we could do was set expectations clearly and set an example ourselves. At the same time, it was about practising flexibility and keeping the bigger picture in mind: What was the purpose of running this workshop? Was the task completed? Did starting a workshop precisely at 9:00 take precedence over someone’s wellbeing? This summer, I saw the practical importance of not becoming overly attached to “the original plan”. People are complex, the world is unpredictable, and plans need to adapt. One day, we might have had far more children than expected at a workshop; on another, far fewer, because Ryan Castro (a rapper from Comuna 13) was giving a surprise concert on the local basketball court and Lamine Yamal was expected to make an appearance. We also happened to be in Colombia during a magnitude 7 earthquake, despite there having been none in years. The world shakes; buildings designed to withstand seismic activity are built to sway with the earth. I think that leadership requires the same flexibility when things go wrong, when plans change, and when the earth shakes. A building with no wiggle room will crumble.
Working in a team brought its own challenges. I realised how important it was to create an environment where everyone felt comfortable sharing ideas to open up the discussion, build on each other’s ideas, and find a better solution together. This meant focusing less on individual contributions and more on the project’s overall goal and how we could contribute to the organisation. I also recognised the value of socialising in maintaining a healthy work-life balance and sustaining energy at work. We spent most weekends exploring the local area and its cultural landmarks, a stark contrast to my lifestyle and working habits during my university years at Cambridge.
Throughout this experience, I have repeatedly felt the pull of the question, “If not me, who? And if not now, when?” This brings to mind the bystander effect, the very opposite: an increasing diffusion of responsibility within a larger group. Although the concept has primarily been applied to people’s behaviour in emergencies, I think it can be extended to any form of social action, from group projects at university to taking a stance against climate change. Going out of your way to help someone, support a cause, or take responsibility does not always come naturally. There is often a moment of hesitation before you jump. Through a lot of practice, Laidlaw has taught me to jump: to hesitate, feel the fear, and jump anyway. Whether it came to being the assigned Spanish speaker in our project group in Colombia or to finding a real lack of research into contemporary Kashubian culture, there was no room to avoid responsibility, stand by, or let fear stop me. I think being a leader means being the first to jump. One of the programme’s most important lessons has been the value of remaining open to change and practising flexibility. When you have confidence in yourself, your abilities, and your capacity to express yourself, adapting becomes more natural, even when you feel lost or confused. Over the past two years, the Laidlaw programme has helped me build that confidence and practise flexibility.
At our most recent Laidlaw session, we were asked to draw our Laidlaw journey as a river. The opportunities I have received thanks to the programme- travelling across three continents, meeting extraordinary people, and exploring my academic interests through my research project - will stay with me forever. I can say with certainty that the Laidlaw Leadership Programme has been the most valuable experience of my degree. I have met passionate, kind people who care deeply about the world; I feel hopeful in this community, and I would like to see a world made up of our leaders. This river has flowed across continents, over the hills of Kashubia, between the colleges of Cambridge, and alongside the Medellín subway. It has flowed through smooth plains and turbulent rapids, gathering fish along the way (who I hope will remain friends for life), growing deeper with time, and reaching this sea of future possibility, where I hope to keep holding on to faith, practising flexibility, and following fear rather than running from it.