It might sound dramatic, but I have often likened my experience of hearing about how black, Asian and minority ethnic (BAME) students do worse than their white peers at university to the five stages of grief.

There was the initial shock and denial that there could be any discrepancy between my white student peers and myself in achieving a first or upper 2:1 class degree. Surely this gap would vanish if entry requirements, subjects, and socio-economic backgrounds were all accounted for?

When I saw that a 13% gap persisted even after other factors were controlled for, I felt frustration and anger. I could not imagine how universities had allowed this to happen. As BAME students, we expect that if we put in the hard work, we should get good grades. I am now in my final year at the University of Huddersfield, and it has been really difficult for me to accept that coming from a BAME background has set me up for a lower chance of achieving a first or an upper 2:1, as a new report from Universities UK confirms.

A lot of emphasis on addressing the BAME attainment gap in universities is around data. As a biochemistry student, I wholeheartedly understand the importance of data analysis. But data can never truly capture the authentic voices shared by individual students about their experiences.

I recently asked a lecturer about future careers in academia and I was kindly and honestly cautioned about the realities I would face as a black woman pursuing a PhD. With the limited job prospects and numerous micro-aggressions (as documented by the small number of professors who are black women), I was gently advised to consider whether it was worth taking the risk. As true as this may be, it was discouraging to hear. It made me doubt my academic abilities and the career pathway I had chosen even after averaging a first in my first and second years of university.

In the end, the experience motivated me to aim for higher grades, but I know that an equally possible outcome would be a student losing momentum and dropping out of their course.

Growing up, most BAME students can vouch for a common saying passed through the generations: “you (black people) have to work twice as hard to get half of what they (white people) have.” Generally speaking the purpose of this saying was to help motivate us to attain top marks, even if we didn’t fully understand the implications at the time.

I know I am not the only person who has had these thoughts. One thing that has helped me accept my circumstances is uniting with other BAME students. In my students’ union, we’ve developed a BAME ambassadors scheme, which is pushing for systematic change to shift the narrative. We reject a deficit model of looking for whatever it is in BAME students which leads to the attainment gap, because it simply is not there.

Instead, our nationally recognised work has included campaigning on campus, building a strong sense of belonging for BAME students, and challenging academics to re-evaluate their curriculum in order to make it work for all students.

We’ve found that lots of BAME students lack a sense of belonging. This tends to make them less engaged with the university, specifically in terms of reading lists, module content and assessments. A diversified curriculum with more books and journal articles by BAME authors can help, and in any case developing more inclusive curriculums is good for everyone. Representation matters: if a person is able to identify with something or someone they will be more likely to emulate and imitate. Seeing BAME staff in senior positions, such as lecturers, is vital, so long as those roles aren’t tokenistic.

I believe that all change starts with a conversation. Universities need to urgently listen to the experiences of their BAME students by viewing them as collaborative partners. The importance of dialogue cannot be ignored in addressing the BAME attainment gap. I want to invite all other BAME students and their universities to join me in being a part of this dialogue.