Hope is built by small sparks, and community organising lets it grow

Hope is built by small sparks, and community organising lets it grow

By Mahmudul, Westminster Citizens leader

When I felt at my lowest, I learnt something unexpected: hope can survive anywhere, even in the loneliest of corners.

For a long time, I always thought hope was about waiting for things to happen. I now understand that hope is something you build. For me, it has always been about dignity. My circumstances did not define me. What defined me was how I responded to them, even when life felt uncertain.

During my periods of homelessness, I was surrounded by people, yet I felt invisible. I was physically present, but unseen. I became very lonely. Hope then becomes a conscious choice rather than an instinctive feeling. What sustained me was the values deeply rooted in my positive early childhood: kindness, integrity, imagination, and encouragement from my parents, neighbours, and kindergarten teachers from my childhood growing up in Tokyo. Those early foundations helped me protect my sense of hope when it felt like life was at its hardest.

At times when I was prevented from working or studying due to status issues, I chose to invest in my character. Integrity, credibility, and humility would matter in the long run. That belief became my hope and kept me moving forward when there was very little else to hold on to.

In 2012, a spark of hope came through becoming a Games Maker at the Olympics. Even though I volunteered at the two Closing Ceremonies productions while sleeping on night buses using a volunteer Oyster card, being part of something global gave me purpose. Since 2012, volunteering has been a huge part of my life.

Another spark was ignited by a volunteer at the London and Slough Charitable Trust. She listened to me with patience and care, not as a case, but as a human being. Her genuine active listening and small acts of kindness made me feel included. When she shared my story with her friends, people listened. That taught me something important: my voice and story carried power.

In 2012, I was mentored by UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan while I was homeless. He helped me find clarity when I struggled to see it myself. From him, I learned that the courage to fight for solutions to the issues that affect you comes from dignity, not circumstance.

Over time, I realised that hope cannot survive on its own. It needs people. That is where community organising comes in, and it has provided a platform for my voice. Community organising helped me see that my lived experiences were not something to hide; they had value. Hope stops being private and becomes collective. It brings ordinary people together from across all faiths and cultures to listen, build trust, and turn emotions like hope or anger into action. Together, you hold the power to make a difference on the issues that matter most to you and create real change.

I was first introduced to Citizens UK and community organising through a local church, and I started to use my story to campaign on issues such as the Living Wage, bus travel, migration justice, and housing and homelessness.

The first time I spoke publicly was at a Westminster Citizens' assembly in 2024, where MP candidates were in attendance. The power I felt, being able to share my story and ask decision-makers to work with us on the issues we cared about, was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was at this moment that I realised that when we get together and organise, nothing is out of reach.

In a time of division, invisibility, and growing disconnection, hope matters more than ever. And it’s built, spark by spark, even in the darkest moments.

Over time, those sparks become a steady flame that helps us find our way. That is what Citizens UK makes possible: turning hope into action, and people like me into leaders.

I share my story so that others who feel unseen know this: your flame matters.