Hope beats hate as simple acts of kindness change lives across UK

There’s a phrase that sums up A Million Acts of Hope, and it belongs to Mary Hustler, a stalwart at the Sandale Community Hub on the Buttershaw Estate in Bradford. “If you’ve got the time,” the 81-year-old Bradfordian says, "turn up and get buttering!” It could be a slogan for the Buttershaw itself, a sprawling 1940s-60s council estate immortalised in the film Rita, Sue and Bob Too. But Mary, a former care worker and great-grandmother, is talking about a community food scheme that can involve buttering 400 slices of bread a day in the school holidays . “No-one needs to go without here, we’ll make sure of it,” Mary says, cheerfully. “We laugh together and we cry together, but we are together.” Mary is part of the brilliantly-named group, ’Recycled Teenagers’ who meet at the Sandale, and include veteran members Lillian, 102 and Cynthia, 97. “Community is very strong here,” says fellow Recycled Teenager, Kath Johnson, 71. “It’s who we are. Times are hard – this cost of living isn’t going away, this area can get talked down, but we look after each other.” A Million Acts of Hope is the broadest and deepest coalition of charities, community groups and faith organisations this decade. Two months after launching in the Mirror , this weekend Britain will celebrate a million moments of kindness, solidarity and connection, the length and breadth of the country. A letter signed by over 70,000 people – including some very well known names, 239 charity partners and countless community groups – ran in Wednesday's Mirror . “To the people who give up evenings and weekend lie-ins,” the letter said. “Who pour tea, answer phones, raise funds, make lunches… To the people that get people talking – across divides and in tricky times. We thank you. “Thank you for rolling up your sleeves. For not giving up… You are the beating hearts of our villages, towns and cities. And because hate can seem louder than hope these days, we have never needed you more. Luckily there are loads of you – quietly helping, shouldering burdens, building bridges. Please know there are even more of us, truly grateful for your graft, who also believe there is more that connects us than divides us.” This week, we’ve been on tour across the country speaking to some of these tea-pourers and bridge-builders across different generations and different backgrounds. And wherever we have looked – whether in Bradford or Birmingham, Hertfordshire, Cardiff or Greater Manchester – we have found the most extraordinary people doing hopeful things . In Birmingham’s Small Heath, we met Naima Ali, a single mum-of-two, who grew up in Kenya. One morning when Naima was dropping her son to school , she noticed a mother at reception struggling to understand that her son needed his swimming kit. Naima stepped in to help. But as the weeks went on, she saw other mums with very little English struggling too. Stopping to chat to them after drop off, she walked with them to Aldi , bought coffee and then sat with them in a bus stop googling local colleges. “We walked to Stonehall Adult Education, then to Sparkhill the same day,” she says. “Within four weeks, they were all enrolled. From there, something began to grow. We started meeting once a month and from time to time we organised simple outings together. What started as support slowly became a community. “We started with almost nothing, a small room and a broken coffee table we had found outside. But it held our tea, our conversations, and our ideas.” Naima’s group evolved into a charity, UPLIFT in which many of the original women now work as dedicated volunteers. Coffee mornings, youth groups, fitness classes and day trips bring up to 400 people through their doors each week. “Our aim was simple: to support people facing language barriers, isolation, and the challenges of starting a new life in a different country,” Naima says. “I understood that feeling deeply. Even as someone who speaks several languages, I know what it feels like not to be understood. I did not want that for anyone else.” In Hatfield, Herts, we met Justin Pearson, a bereaved father who lost his beloved daughter Skye aged eight to sepsis in 2018. Skye had Downs Syndrome and a rare congenital heart defect that led to nine cardiac arrests. Battling with their mental health , the 52-year-old former farmworker and his wife have struggled to work since, meaning they sometimes need the help of the local foodbank. “When my daughter passed away, it ripped our family apart,” Justin said. "I should have walked my daughter down the aisle, not carried her down one. I went back to work but didn’t realise I was having a breakdown. I collapsed at work, I became very, very poorly. As our life stumbled, and we struggled to move forward, we had to seek support from Hatfield Foodbank. They welcomed us. “It wasn’t just the food that made a difference to us, it was the fact they showed such empathy and care for us in our very darkest moments. That’s special.” In Cardiff, we spoke to 36-year-old Rhys Holmes, who had a brain tumour removed when he was just eight years old, and then became ill with meningitis , and later a neurodegenerative disorder called superficial siderosis. As a child Rhys had been a promising footballer, scouted by Cardiff, but his health problems saw him drop out of sport and his music degree. He had to learn to walk again and had a cochlear implant fitted. He attends weekly neuro-physiotherapy. Some 23 surgeries later, Rhys is a keen cyclist, and trustee of Pedal Power, an inclusive cycling project run from a hub at Cardiff Caravan Park. He has his own ICE Trike , and leads one of the weekly recumbent trike social rides. “I was very active when I was younger but doctors said I couldn’t continue with football, as my head was too fragile,” Rhys says. “My dad bought me a guitar to compensate, and my love for music and doing gigs grew from there. “But after getting diagnosed with superficial siderosis, I became very isolated. I couldn’t hear for five years. I stopped working, I lost friends and my confidence. It was the worst time of my life, it was horrendous. My mum drove me to my first Pedal Power session, and it has changed my life.” In Greater Manchester we spoke to Becky Goodwin, who runs the Mencap project ‘Me Time Tameside’ – which recently moved from an isolated industrial estate into local community hubs. Being part of A Million Acts of Hope feels incredibly meaningful for everyone at Mencap Me Time Tameside,” she says. "The one simple change of moving into the heart of Tameside has created countless hopeful moments. These everyday moments of connection and belonging are exactly what A Million Acts of Hope is about.” James Bowes, 36, says: "Mencap Tameside has helped me a lot. When I first started I was the shyest one ever. I have enjoyed being with everyone and liked it so much. I’ve changed a lot. I love it here – If I had a bed I would put it here and live here!" Back on the Buttershaw, the chairwoman of Recycled Teenagers, Anne Newsome, 71, tells us about the wisdom of long life. “We’ve all lived, we’ve all been there and done it and now we’re doing our bit to share and help others,” Anne says. “I’ll never forget seeing a mum with tears rolling down her cheeks because we’d given her Christmas presents to take home. She didn’t think her children were going to have anything to open so what we’d done, it meant the world . She was crying, then I was. I’ll never forget that - that’s what it’s all about.” Tell us who brings you hope - or get inspired with our ‘hope dispenser’ here .