As we mark World Suicide Prevention Day on 10 September, I have found myself reflecting on love and belonging. These words resonate with many of us as a deep commitment to one another's wellbeing, dignity and humanity. The kind of commitment that notices when someone is struggling, creates space for difficult conversations and reminds people that they do not have to carry their burdens alone.

Like many, I was saddened by the recent death of Professor Jason Arday. His life and achievements inspired many, particularly those who rarely saw themselves reflected in positions of influence and leadership. For me, it has also prompted reflections on public scrutiny and judgement that can lead to people feelings isolated, unseen or unloved, particularly when they are carrying burdens that others cannot see. As leaders, colleagues and communities, we have a responsibility to create environments where compassion and belonging are felt just as strongly as accountability and challenge.

In my research for this blog, a video by Prof Arday was shared with me, where he speaks of a world which he would spin on the axis of love. I found myself thinking – what would that mean? What would that do? But wouldn’t it be amazing to see!

Too often, the voices of struggles are absent from conversations; that is particularly true for global majority communities and other underrepresented groups. If we are serious about love, belonging and prevention, we must also be serious about equity, inclusion and culturally responsive support that meets people where they are, rather than expecting them to neatly fit into various public service criteria.

These reflections take me back to some of my earliest volunteering experiences in India in the late 1990s. In a country of more than a billion people, largescale programmes often required coordinated efforts that brought together government agencies, health services, local communities and volunteers. The work frequently required supporting some of the most deprived communities needing medical intervention, central government leadership, and large-scale logistical support. However, for all the planning and logistics involved, it was less about the operation and more about people and trust.

Volunteers and staff like me were there to advise and listen in a non-judgemental way, providing a dignified space for those needing to unburden what they were carrying, often when they felt excluded or that their communities had abandoned them. I encountered trauma, abuse, shame and loss. Most were close to deeply desperate moments. But within all the challenge, there were always glimmers of hope and a desire for better; what was missing was safe spaces where people felt loved and held.

What I learnt from my experiences is that complex problems require collective responses. No single person, profession or organisation holds all the answers. Progress happens when different skills, perspectives and experiences come together around a shared purpose centred on compassion and love. And that is what all agencies and volunteers achieved together. Long before I understood the philosophy of Ubuntu (which means ‘humanity to others’ or ‘I am what I am because of who we all are’), I believe I was seeing it in practice.

This month marks my first anniversary as Chair of the ADCS Health, Care and Commissioning Policy Network. Throughout that time, I have been reminded repeatedly that improving outcomes for children depends upon strong partnerships. The lives of children and families do not fit neatly within organisational charts. Their experiences cut across health, education, social care, housing, communities and relationships. The challenges we face, whether linked to exclusion, social injustice, mental health, exploitation, poverty or family breakdown, rarely belong to a single service.

Looking ahead, I find myself returning to a lesson learned many years ago. The most meaningful progress I have witnessed, whether in remote villages, community clinics or children's services, has always begun with people choosing to work together to create a sense of love and belonging – by listening, caring and recognising that they each have a role to play.

At its heart, that is what Ubuntu means to me. I am because we are.