Princess Anne
Princess Anne

Princess Anne swiftly declined an unusual invitation to learn to rap when an MBE recipient made the bold request during an investiture ceremony at St James's Palace on Thursday.

Bhishma Asare, the 34-year-old founder of Rap Therapy and an English teacher at Royal Russell School in Croydon, had just received his honour for services to education and mental health awareness when he posed the question.

The Princess Royal's response was vintage Anne: direct, unflinching, and lightly humorous.

She reportedly told him she 'used to sing and that is about it' before adding that her time was up. It was a classic royal brush-off delivered with characteristic economy.

The encounter occurred during an investiture ceremony where Asare received an MBE for his transformative work in education and mental health awareness.

Asare, an English teacher at the Royal Russell School in Croydon, founded Rap Therapy back in 2018 with an ambitious vision: to reach as many young people as possible through the power of hip-hop. His approach is grounded in legitimate pedagogy as he believes that rap—with its rhythm, storytelling, and emotional directness—offers young people a language for processing their feelings in ways that traditional classroom discussions sometimes cannot.

How Rap Therapy Is Transforming Education and Mental Health Awareness

For adolescents struggling with anxiety, depression, or trauma—young people whose emotional vocabulary has been crushed by circumstances—rap provides an accessible outlet. It's not therapy in the clinical sense, though Asare's background in English teaching and mental health advocacy means his methods are informed by both disciplines. It's something closer to creative activism, where the act of writing and performing becomes a form of self-discovery.

During his audience with the Princess Royal, Asare explained the mechanics of his programme. Students write about specific emotions, explicitly naming those feelings so they can begin to decipher and understand them. It's a technique borrowed from both creative writing and therapeutic practice, designed to turn internal turmoil into external expression. When he outlined this process to Princess Anne, the logic seemed sound. When he then posed the question—' Maybe I could teach you to rap?'—the royals were evidently less convinced.

The Princess Royal's reply was direct, unapologetic, and tinged with dry humour. 'She said she used to sing and that is about it,' Asare recalled. 'She kind of declined and said her time is up.' No elaborate courtly flourish. No gentle demurral wrapped in diplomatic language.

Broader Impact of Innovative Mental Health Approaches in Schools

The MBE itself signals an important shift in how institutions recognise educational innovation. Asare wasn't honoured simply for being a good teacher—though he clearly is. He was honoured 'for services to education and mental health awareness,' reflecting a growing understanding that these two spheres are inseparable. Young people cannot learn effectively when their emotional needs are unmet. They cannot concentrate, connect with peers, or envision their futures if they lack the tools to articulate and process their feelings.

Asare has also recognised that his MBE transcends his own achievement. 'I feel like this MBE is for me, but I also feel that it is for the community that I serve,' he said. This distinction matters. Too often, individual accolades flatten the collective effort behind them. But Asare understands that Rap Therapy works because of the students who write, perform, and trust in its power; because of the schools that welcome him; and because of the broader cultural acknowledgement that mental health isn't a luxury add-on to education—it's foundational.

Perhaps most telling is how Asare views the honour's wider significance. 'I think one of the best things about the MBE is that it gets us in spaces to have discussions where we would not necessarily have been able to get into those spaces.' An MBE opens doors. It lends legitimacy. It signals to institutions—and to young people themselves—that this work matters. That creativity, emotional honesty, and unconventional teaching methods aren't fringe pursuits; they're central to cultivating healthy, articulate and emotionally literate generations.