Legacy of Jo Cox

Debate between Kim Leadbeater and Emily Darlington

Thursday 11th June 2026 Commons Chamber

[Emily Darlington (Milton Keynes Central) (Lab)]

It has been an absolute privilege to be in the House today and to listen to everybody’s personal reflections on Jo’s time here and on how they have been impacted.

I want to talk about Jo as a friend of mine for years and years. We met in the Labour movement, and we kept finding ourselves in the same meetings—ones that focused on international development, but, most of all, meetings that focused on women. In fact, we became closest and bonded the most when we both became pregnant at the same time.

Let me talk about the time when we were all processing having lost the 2010 election. Jo and I have always been people of action, and we have not been shy in coming forward; we both have that very much in common. I had started my own business, and she came barrelling into the office one day and said, “How are we going to organise? We cannot live like this. It is awful.” The solution, as is most often the case, was women.

We hatched a plan on how we would revitalise Labour Women’s Network and ensure that Jo took over as chair. I then stood up out of my chair and, at three months’ pregnant, I already had an enormous bump. She said, “You’re pregnant! That is so exciting—so am I. How pregnant are you?” I said, “Three months. How pregnant are you?” She said, “Three months too.” You would not know it. She was this tiny little thing with a perfectly flat belly, and I thought, “That is three months’ pregnant, and I already look like this!”

Our plan for Jo to take over as chair of LWN was very successful, and that success continues. What she was committed to bringing back to the Labour movement—what we organised and committed to—was hope. She brought a way of rebuilding our movement after that loss and a way of ensuring that women were at the heart of that.

Not long after that, we both gave birth. I looked enormous, like a beached whale, and I gave birth to an 8 lb baby. Jo was tiny throughout, and she gave birth to a 10 lb baby—I do not know where she put that baby in her small little body, but oh my goodness! Still then, we were at meetings and we were determined to breastfeed at party conference, because, frankly, the thing that both our children had in common was that they were veracious eaters—

[Kim Leadbeater]

They still are!

[Emily Darlington]

As are mine, and they were only a few days apart.

The other thing we did was bring together our two NCT groups and try to radicalise them to the Labour cause—some more successfully than others. We dragged them to LWN fundraisers. We ended up organising many women with their babies and their buggies coming on to the Terrace of the House of Commons. We were determined that these women who we had bonded with so much in our pregnancies—the time, and then the feeding, the burping and the sleepless nights—were going to become part of our revolution.

We were both behind-the-scenes women; we liked to work and build up other people. But in the run-up to the 2015 election, we called each other back and forth, asking, “Are we going to do this? Are we going to stand in this election?” We had asked everybody else to stand, because that is what we do, and finally we asked each other and said, “Look, I’ll do it if you do it,” because we were not confident. We were confident in other women; we could see all those qualities in other women, but we were not confident that we were the ones to take that forward. That is such a woman thing to do—we look at others and see all their amazing characteristics and abilities, but we struggle sometimes to see them in ourselves.

We made a pledge to each other that we would stand in the 2015 election—she in Batley and Spen, and me in what was Milton Keynes North at the time. We would check in with each other regularly. We were each other’s secret lifeline, in this world in which we had encouraged other women to go where we had never been before.

After that election, Jo won and became the MP for Batley and Spen, and I went off to Kenya, because I thought, as you do, “If I can’t make a difference here, I can go and make a difference elsewhere.” We had completely swapped paths: she had spent time in Kenya while I was a special adviser in the Labour Government, and now she was representing our views and ideals here and I had gone off to Kenya to see what I could do. Everywhere I went, people would say, “Oh, you’re from the UK—do you know Jo?” I would proudly say, “Of course I know Jo. She’s my friend. She’s doing an amazing job in the House of Commons.”

I fell pregnant again when I was out there—Jo had already had her second child—and one day I got a phone call from a mutual friend of ours who was also in Kenya, and he asked me, “Have you heard the news?” I literally had to sit down because I thought, “I’m going to collapse, and this baby is going to get squished. I need to sit down and take this in.” I just could not believe it. Because so many people in Kenya knew that I had known Jo, I was inundated with messages saying, “What are we going to do?” None of them said, “Isn’t it so sad?” They said, “What are we going to do?” That is so Jo.

The high commissioner in Kenya gave us his property for an evening, so the first thing we did was hold a reception event in remembrance and celebration of Jo, simultaneously with the one being held in London. There remains a book of remembrance at the high commission in Kenya of all the people whose lives she touched in Kenya across those many institutions, charities and other places, and some people who just knew about her but had been inspired to come.

Not long after that, Brendan reached out to me and to other friends of his and Jo’s in Kenya, saying, “Look, it’s become too much for myself and the kids in the UK, and we can’t get a break because of all the media focus. Can we come out and spend some time with you guys?” I very much understood that our job in that situation was to surround those two amazing children with joy, so we spent a lot of time driving around, singing musicals at the top of our lungs—it is a shared passion between our two families, and her children and my children knew all the words. We brought them to see the tree that the children had planted in Karura forest in memory of Jo. For those who do not know Karura forest, it is the forest that is right in the middle of Nairobi, and that tree stands there today.

Now I am in Parliament. I sit on the Government Benches every day and, because of the strangeness of this place, we now look at Jo’s crest every day. She is a constant reminder. I do not know if anybody else is like this, but I have a series of amazing women in my life who have passed and with whom I have conversations, whether it is my grandmother, my mother-in-law or Jo. I think, “What would that conversation be? What would they say?” The conversation I have with Jo is, “How do you raise children and protect them when you are a Member of Parliament?” You try to laugh off your home security and your personal security; you make jokes about them. Sometimes you go to events with them, so you have this guy with these big guns—big muscles—walking along with you. The children ask, “Who’s this?” So you say, “Oh, it’s just a friend of mine.” “Do you know his name?” “No, but he’s a friend of mine, and he’s going to follow us around as we go to an event in the constituency together.”

I think, “What would Jo think of where we are today?” We talked a lot about how women of all backgrounds needed to be in this place, because it was the only way we were going to make our politics better. That is something that so many of us have fought to achieve, yet we have brought women to this place and told them, “You need to put up with the crap we are putting up with”—apologies, Madam Deputy Speaker; that was not the best language. It is everything from social media to what we do to protect our children and the fact that we cannot be as open and available as we all want to be. I get criticised all the time for not having my surgeries in the middle of an Asda, and I keep saying, “I can’t. Yes, you need an appointment; you cannot just come in and see me. You cannot just walk into my office, because of my team”—who, again, are a bunch of amazing women. What does that say about our politics? We would all love to be more open and inclusive. We would all love to feel safe to pop up anywhere in our constituency, but we cannot. It goes against everything that Jo and I believed a good MP—a good public servant—should be, and I struggle with it all the time.

I think Jo would love Milton Keynes, not just because we are quirky and weird, and she was a bit quirky and weird—we have new technology delivering groceries—but because we are a city that is not afraid to stand up and say that diversity is our strength. Diversity is what makes us the capital of innovation in this country. Diversity is something we celebrate throughout the summer, with festivals for diaspora communities, and everybody is included. We will be doing the MK Great Get Together. It is a picnic where everyone is invited. Bring a blanket; if you can bring food, bring food. If you have enough to bring food for others, bring food to share with others. Share the best cooking from your mum, share the best cooking that you know from your communities, and let us come together and celebrate our amazing city of Milton Keynes.

I want to finish with the fact that I knew Jo best as a mum, and I want her to know that while her legacy lives on in so many places, it also lives on in our joint NCT groups that have come together. We continue to have girls’ nights out and girls’ weekends away. The dads have a beer club, but they are not as good at organising themselves. We still have joint birthday parties. We still go away at Whitsun recess to a Eurocamp somewhere. Her voice and her memory are never forgotten in those spaces. Inevitably, as we are sitting there as a bunch of mums drinking wine, her name comes up. Inevitably something triggers it—it could be about anything. She was a brilliant mum, and she did what all brilliant mums do, which is to try to be an example to their children and to be supportive of all the other mums.

Faye, Tracey, Karin, Sarah, Hannah and Claire and others from our NCT group asked me to say this on their behalf: her passion brought people together, not just in the country, but as mums. Her sense of community and of cohesion that she expounded is why her death felt even more traumatic. I want to thank her sister and my friend, my hon. Friend the Member for Spen Valley (Kim Leadbeater), for always letting us remember Jo with positivity, not anger, and with a gumption to go. That does not mean we are all going to do a run with my hon. Friend. [Laughter.] God knows what your parents fed you for breakfast, but whatever it was, it should be in those free breakfast clubs that we have across the country, because boy are you two amazing. You are supporting us to be the amazing MPs that we can be, and we are all supporting that next generation to say, “This is not what politics is about. This is not what our country is about.” We are better than this, because we are more united and we have more in common than that which divides us.