When I was ten years old, Egypt was undergoing political upheaval. Opposition members were being imprisoned en masse, leaving many families without income. One story stayed with me: a woman refused aid from a charity aligned with the government that had incarcerated her husband. “You cannot agree to my husband’s imprisonment and then come and give me money,” she said.

That moment planted a seed. It made me question what charity really is—and what it should be. Charity is often seen as apolitical, as simply “helping the needy.” But what happens when it treats the symptom while ignoring the cause? What if it quietly sustains the very systems that create need in the first place? I began to see charity as a hierarchical model—one that alleviates suffering without addressing its roots.

That’s why, when I first heard Migrants Organise’s ground rule—“We are here in solidarity, not charity. We are not here to help the poor; we are here to build collective power”—it struck a deep chord. It offered a radical reimagining of power: not as something handed down, but something built together. It reflected the kind of leadership the Laidlaw programme encouraged me to pursue—collaborative, ethical, and grounded.

This isn’t to say that Migrants Organise doesn’t meet urgent needs; they do. But they do so while building grassroots power. Their community organizing model invites members—many of whom are directly impacted by the UK’s hostile environment policies—to shape the response themselves. Those living in asylum accommodation join the housing justice group, not just to seek help, but to take action. Those affected by cuts to legal aid participate in campaigns like the Legal Walk, holding signs that read, “Justice is not only for the rich. Justice is for all.”

It’s this combination of care and organizing, of support and political education, that makes their model both dignified and transformative. Leadership, I’ve learned, is not about standing above others—it’s about standing with them. At Migrants Organise, I saw what it looks like when people are treated as agents of change, not passive recipients. I felt it in the welcoming office culture and heard it in the voices of members who spoke with clarity, motivation, and purpose.

Charities are essential in a world where governments often fail to protect the most vulnerable. But they must not operate in a depoliticized vacuum. Poverty is not an accident. Injustice is not a glitch in the system; it is the system. Leadership, then, must challenge the roots of inequality, not just patch its consequences.

As a Laidlaw Scholar, I’ve come to see leadership not as a title, but as a responsibility—to act with empathy, to center dignity, and to build power with, not for, and definitely not over. Migrants Organise reminded me of that. And for that, I am deeply grateful.