In the build-up to his 1987 fight with Tyrell Biggs, Mike Tyson was asked about strategy.
His answer was blunt: everyone has a plan—until they take the first hit.
I think the same rhythm applies here: "Everyone wants to change the status quo — until it's time to actually do it."
Both lines cut off at the same point. Both reveal the same truth: talking a good game is easy, but when the cost or the punch lands, that's when you find out who's serious.
I have a mate who posts about "disrupting the norm” and “challenging the status quo” every few weeks on LinkedIn.
They’ve got the hoodie. They’ve got the standing desk. They’ve got the "change-maker" energy that gets them invited to panels about innovation.
But after Paul and Vibushan, the co-founders of Oru Space, in Sutton, posted on LinkedIn about the racist abuse they received, the change makers' feed went quiet.
When Samia needed a platform to talk about Palestine, they were nowhere to be found.
When it came time to actually challenge something that mattered, they had completely fucked off.
Because here's what I've learnt: everyone wants to be different until it's time to be different.
The performance vs the practice
I’m still reading Naomi Klein's Doppelganger, and if we dropped her into a room where "tech bros" were talking about "disrupting everything," she'd tear the varnish off in minutes.
She'd point out that much of this rhetoric is theatre.
The "system" being disrupted is often surface-level stuff—taxis, hotels, office space—whilst the deeper structures of capitalism, inequality, and extractive power remain untouched.
Uber didn't dismantle the exploitative taxi industry. It made a more precarious one.
Amazon didn't challenge retail monopolies. It became one.
I know this because I was part of it.
In 2012, I was involved in a sharing economy startup. I became very excited about the prospect of disrupting everything.
What we were doing was bullshit.
I found a satirical video in 2015 called "Well-Deserved: The Premier Marketplace for Privilege," and it remains true today. It's about a startup that lets privileged people monetise their advantages.
"I work at Google and get free lunch every day," says one founder. "Now I sell that guest lunch and feel better knowing I'm putting my privilege to use."
Another entrepreneur walks with women to spare them harassment—and charges them five bucks for the service.
Dam! The video was too close to home. This is what happens when "checking your privilege" becomes a business model instead of a call to action.
This is the logical endpoint of disruption theatre: monetising inequality instead of challenging the systems that create it.
And most "disruption" posts don't disrupt anything. They're marketing copy dressed up as rebellion.
The lunch that exposed everything
I was at a lunch a few years ago with a group of very good people from coworking.
The opening topic was the rising price of school fees.
When one woman announced that she wanted to make women in the industry more visible, she almost had to apologise.
Then another man said: "Yes, women are essential; they 'man' our reception desks."
If you were at that lunch, you’ll know a lot of good action came out of it - don’t feel too bad.
"Yes, women are essential; they 'man' our reception desks."
Here's the data that makes that lunch even more uncomfortable:
In the UK, less than 2% of venture funding goes to female founders, just 1.7% to all-ethnic minority teams, and a vanishing 0.02% to Black women – figures that have barely shifted in over a decade.
But everybody loves to tell you they're a B Corp, and they're purpose-driven and making an impact, often whilst a minor member of the Royal family or an MP is visiting their workspace.
The status quo isn't just what we accept—it's what we're economically rewarded for not questioning.
The test that exposes the fakery
Here's how you know if someone's actually breaking the mould or just performing it:
Watch what happens when something real comes up.
In the UK right now, opposing genocide challenges the status quo more than opposing racism or far-right hatred.
The government spends more energy arresting peaceful middle-England protesters in Parliament Square than confronting racist mobs waving death-threat signs.
This isn't abstract. It's visible in what gets policed.
In London, high-end coworking is booming, as is wealth inequality and the far right, and protests about the genocide in Gaza.
Out of the 1000+ coworking spaces in London, the only spaces I've seen talking about this are Space4 and Oru Space - if you have been and I have missed you, please get in touch - you know, in the ‘find the others’ kind of way.
When Paul and Vibushan faced racist abuse, the response from our industry showed what's possible when we stop performing community and start building it.
Hannah from Arc Club responded: "Thank goodness for Oru Space and Vibushan's positive vision in the face of such hate."
Alex from The Projects said: "The values you've built Oru on are exactly what the world needs more of."
But here's what struck me most: this was the loudest conversation about racism I've seen in UK coworking in 15 years.
The silence surrounding that post from most of the coworking community was deafening.
As soon as something sensitive like racism, wealth inequality, or inclusion gets brought up, people either fall silent or don't know how to respond.
Gary Stevenson, the economist and former trader, talks about the power of "citizen journalists" - ordinary people with cameras telling stories that mainstream media won't tell.
He explains how stories spread "like a computer virus" when enough people get out there and share them, allowing movements to "dominate the salience of a subject without necessarily having that top level media support."
In coworking, we need more citizen journalists. More spaces willing to document and share the real stories of inclusion, challenge, and community building. Because stories spread like viruses - if enough people tell them.
But right now, we've ceded that storytelling power to silence.
And yet—this is exactly what real change looks like.
When action speaks louder
I've been thinking about my conversation with Samia Tossio, a British-born community artist and daughter of a Palestinian refugee.
When I asked her what she's known for, she said: "A playful, creative activist, somebody who's not afraid to speak up and use her voice when the need arises."
Samia talks about "weapons of mass creation" versus weapons of mass destruction.
The dominant culture uses destruction, division, and distraction. She insists on creation.
When she came back from Palestine this year, she didn't just post about it. She launched Brutiful Tales—a project that combines her playfully creative spirit with amplifying Palestinian voices.
And when she needed a platform for the official launch, Oru Space didn't hesitate.
Vibushan immediately said, "How can we help? Come and use the space. We'll staff it, we'll provide the food. Whatever you want to do."
That's what real disruption looks like.
It's not a hashtag. It's opening your door when others keep theirs shut.
The geography is a real challenge
Here's something else about Oru Space: they didn't take the easy route.
If I were a coworking space founder seeking a peaceful life and almost certain success, I would open in a part of London that already understands coworking, because I get to fit in, and the audience wouldn't need education.
It's way fucking harder to open a coworking space in Wigan, Preston or Barking in East London than in Manchester, Brighton or Shoreditch High Street.
But the place for coworking spaces is on the high street, not just Shoreditch High Street, where the rest of the general public can see them. Our community-led connection points are evolving our high streets.
Oru Space took on an old department store in the rather unglamorous location of Sutton. That comes with challenges, as we've seen.
The status quo is economically rewarded: safe locations, easy demographics, guaranteed success.
Challenge costs: unglamorous high streets, harder demographics, real risk.
The reality of nonconformity
"Real nonconformity isn't a costume. It's survival. For me, it's been about designing a life that works with my brain instead of against it."
For a long time, I thought "breaking the mould" meant being edgy for the sake of it — always pushing against something because it felt cool. Only later did I realise that what I was really doing was finding ways to live with ADHD and dyslexia in a world designed for one kind of nervous system.
I told Lena on her podcast: I'd be like Michael Douglas, in ‘Falling Down’, if I had to do the same commute, same building, same hours every day.
The status quo assumes we can all operate under the same lights, schedules, and definitions of "professional." But some of us spend our lives bending the world just to be able to focus, contribute, and avoid burning out.
It's exhausting work, mostly invisible, and it doesn't come with applause. That's the difference between performance and practice. Anyone can put "nonconformist" in their bio.
But when you're forced to carve your own path — when you misread the room and feel the awkwardness, when you build your own systems to cope — that's what actual change looks like. Not trendy, not easy. Just necessary.
The Friday test
Want to know if your "disruption" post is real or theatre?
Ask yourself: What am I implementing by Friday?
If your challenging post doesn't cost you anything to implement by this Friday, it's copy—not change.
Real challenge has a price. It might cost you a client. It might make people uncomfortable. It might mean your feed goes quiet when you need support.
I've misread the room several times. It's awkward and uncomfortable—so that's what it feels like.
But it also builds something real.
When Oru gave Samia free space for her fundraiser, they raised £12,000 for a water well in North Gaza.
When they opened their doors for difficult conversations, they created the kind of community that actually shows up when it matters.
That's not disruption theatre. That's civic infrastructure.
The art of finding your people
Maybe it's time to stop using the phrase "challenging the status quo" altogether.
We need a new language, like ACTionism, which encourages us to find others and give ourselves permission to take action and make changes on a regular basis. What I like about this is that most projects involve doing things with other people.
ACTionism is "the art of finding your people and taking collective action."
It's what happens when you stop performing change and start creating it.
Like many, I read Citizens by Jon Alexander and got all pumped up. But how do you apply that to your daily life and work?
Finding the others in coworking who talk openly about wealth inequality, racism, Palestine, mental health support, community manager burnout, and menopause is hard.
ACTionism gives us a practical framework: community screenings, repair cafés, and local food systems. Tangible actions you can implement this week.
It's about acting towards something, not just resisting the world as it is, but reimagining what it could be.
The people paying the bill
The two projects I know best in London are Facework Group and Urban MBA — and they deal with challenges every single day to deliver at the level they do.
If Kofi Oppong or Stephen Carrick-Davies doesn't deliver the walk-every-minute-of-the-day commitments they've promised, people lose out. They don't have the luxury of endless posts about "disruption"; they're too busy making sure the work gets done.
This is what I mean when I say "be the change" isn't a slogan, it's a bill.
The cost shows up as late nights, awkward conversations, lost funding, a hundred invisible inconveniences that no one claps for.
That's what real change looks like in practice — showing up, keeping the promise, adjusting the room so people who've been shut out can actually step in.
I'm mentioning Face.works and Urban MBA because I know them best.
But as I write this, a whole list of other projects floods my head — the people I've been lucky enough to interview on the Coworking Values Podcast.
Just last week I spoke with Ali Kakande, and it's the same story: less talk about change, more of the daily graft to be the change.
Do the work
I'm not asking you to post about Palestine or racism or any specific issue.
I'm asking you to notice the difference between performance and practice.
Between slogans and systems.
Between disrupting for applause and actually being different when it costs something.
The next time you see a "change the world" post, ask: What's the Friday test?
What will they have actually changed by the end of the week?
And when something real comes up in your community—something that makes people uncomfortable, something that tests whether your values are marketing copy or actual practice—notice who shows up.
Because that's when you find out who's actually changing anything.
And who's just wearing the hoodie.
(I have a lot of hoodies!)🤣
Bernie's picks
📚 Book: Bad Daughter by Sangeeta Pillai - Just launched this week by my mate Sangeeta. A powerful exploration of identity, belonging, and what it means to challenge expectations. Perfect timing for our conversation about who gets to tell their story and who gets silenced. baddaughter.co.uk
🎧 Podcast: "Fighting Economic Brain Drain: Community Infrastructure with Mariangie Rosas" on the Coworking Values Podcast - How one coworking space in Puerto Rico became essential infrastructure—and why local governments should pay attention. Listen here
📺 Video: Gary Stevenson's "Refugee Riots, Salience and Storytelling" - An analysis of how stories spread like viruses and why we need more "citizen journalists" telling different stories. Essential viewing for understanding how change actually happens through grassroots storytelling. Watch here
🌍 Free Resource: ACTionism.space - "The art of finding your people and taking collective action." This is where I've found my home after reading Citizens. It gives you practical ways to move from inspiration to action through community screenings, repair initiatives, and local projects. actionism.space
💬 Community: The LinkedIn Coworking Group continues to be where conversations happen. This week, more discussions about inclusion, economic reality, and what community building actually costs. Join us if you're ready for conversations that matter.