In her powerful and deeply reflective blog post, Professor Laetitia Rispel shares an account of a seven-year journey running transformative supervision workshops at the University of the Witwatersrand in South Africa. Framed within the urgent discourse of decolonising postgraduate education, her narrative offers not only a case study of innovative supervisory practice, but also a call to reconsider the very assumptions that underpin our work as doctoral supervisors.
Rispel’s supervision workshops emerged in a context shaped by South Africa’s complex legacy of apartheid, colonialism, and ongoing inequality. Yet while the post is anchored in a specific place, its lessons resonate widely — particularly for supervisors seeking to challenge hierarchical, isolating, or exclusionary norms in doctoral education. What she presents is not a polished intervention imported from elsewhere, but a process of situated, collaborative growth. The workshops were designed to be informal, inclusive, and grounded in trust — spaces where students and supervisor could come together not merely to discuss research progress, but to reflect, co-create, and learn from one another.
One of the most striking aspects of Rispel’s account is her emphasis on mutual accountability and multi-directional learning. Too often, supervision is framed as a one-way street — with knowledge flowing from expert to novice, and expectations dictated from above. In contrast, these workshops cultivated an ethos of shared responsibility and reciprocal exchange. Students supported each other, learned from alumni, engaged with a range of voices — including yoga teachers and jazz musicians — and began to see research not just as a technical task, but as a deeply human and creative endeavour.
Crucially, Rispel positions these workshops as a decolonial pedagogy in action. Rather than simply adding “diverse” content to the curriculum, the workshops disrupted traditional structures of academic power by centring relationality, reflection, and the validation of multiple ways of knowing. The inclusion of mindfulness practices, group storytelling, music, and personal narratives speaks to a broader reimagining of what counts as knowledge in the doctoral space — and who gets to define it.
For supervisors reading this piece, the invitation is clear: what might it mean to reframe supervision not as a formal obligation or checklist of milestones, but as an ongoing relationship of care, accountability, and transformation? How might we create space — even within institutional constraints — for joy, trust, and peer connection? And what do we need to unlearn in order to supervise more ethically and inclusively?
Rispel’s reflections are also refreshingly honest about the challenges of supervision. She does not romanticise the process, acknowledging that not all relationships are easy, that progress varies, and that the roles of supervisor, mentor, and colleague often blur in complex ways. Yet her approach is one of grounded optimism — shaped by a willingness to adapt, to listen, and to grow alongside her students.
“Decolonising supervision is not a single act — it is a posture of humility, a practice of ongoing reflection, and a willingness to share power in ways that nurture both academic and human flourishing.”
As supervisors in diverse contexts, we may not all be able to replicate these workshops in their entirety. But we can take inspiration from their principles: co-created learning, attention to the emotional and relational dimensions of supervision, and a commitment to equity not just in policy, but in practice. Decolonising supervision is not a single act — it is a posture of humility, a practice of ongoing reflection, and a willingness to share power in ways that nurture both academic and human flourishing.
Rispel’s piece is more than a description of a project. It is a quiet, generous offering — one that reminds us that change in doctoral education begins not only in policy, but in relationship.
More on supervision today!