'Jo Cox told me to speak from the heart. 10 years on, her message has never mattered more' - Tracy Brabin

Eleven years ago, I was about to make my first ever political speech. I would be following Neil Kinnock – a giant of the Labour movement and a brilliant orator – at a fundraiser for Jo Cox, who was standing to be the MP for my hometown of Batley.

I was terrified. So I asked Jo what I should say. She gave me that warm, generous smile that everyone who ever knew her would instantly recognise, and told me to just “speak from the heart”.

It is the most valuable lesson in politics I’ve ever had over the decade since. Be your authentic self and say what you believe – otherwise, what’s the point?

So, standing on a stage in the restaurant, I spoke about my family who were there at the event – Maxine, my sister, a nurse.

My mum, a woman who worked hard against the odds to give us both a safe home, and my niece, a newly qualified teacher wrestling with the challenges her students face, and who needed a champion at the heart of government to advocate for them.

That champion, and MP, was Jo. Kind, authentic, principled. Even then, before all of the obituaries and the tributes, people knew she was the best of us; one of a kind.

A year after her election, Jo was murdered in the constituency she loved. She was six days away from her forty-second birthday.

She left behind two young children, a husband, a community, and a political message – one that I believe is needed now more than ever.

We are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us. In this age of polarisation, these are the words we need to hear most.

Especially when prominent individuals, who frankly should know better, reach all too easily for the language of division.

We have become sadly accustomed to those with significant followings fanning the flames of hate for their own political gain.

These comments are not mistakes – they are made by clever people who understand the implications of what they say.

Impacting on our public discourse and the safety of the emergency service workers who too often find themselves at the very real front line of the culture war.

While Jo and Sir David Amess paid the ultimate price for the disdain of politicians who hold a different point of view, every politician I speak with has their own story, from Dawn Butler permanently closing her constituency office in Brent, to Sadiq Khan requiring a constant security detail wherever he goes as Mayor of London.

People may lack sympathy for the abuse and threats that politicians receive. We’re well paid, and we knew what we signed up for, after all.But these threats are catastrophic for our democracy.

Politicians need to be visible, rooted in their communities, and firmly in touch with the communities they serve. They need to hold surgeries, knock on doors, have a chat at the bus stop, and sit across the table from someone who needs urgent help.

If the people we elect can’t safely engage with the people who elect them, then we all lose. And the talented people of different professions and backgrounds that we desperately need more of in politics decide, completely understandably, that it isn’t for them.

Threats and violence against our elected representatives must be understood for what they are – threats and violence against our democracy and our very way of life. A way of controlling us. Making us all too nervous to engage.

Which is why people who incite violence or post threats online must understand that they are breaking the law and will be punished for doing so. And it means that billionaire tech barons and hateful offshore influencers must be held to account for profiting from rage.

Foreign interference in British politics – including the industrial-scale spread of misinformation and the exploitation of grievances by those who have no stake in our society – must be treated as the national security threat it is.

I would also like to see Britain follow Australia with a ban on social media for under-16s, alongside far tougher regulation of the platforms that are algorithmically damaging our young people’s mental health while corrupting our public debate.

But there is hope and I believe devolution is a green shoot of hope for the kind of politics Jo believed in. Across the country, Mayoral Combined Authorities have proven that it’s possible to do things differently – to put place before politics, disagree agreeably, and work together across party-lines to deliver on shared priorities.

Here in West Yorkshire, that is exactly what we are doing. Whilst we do not agree on everything, we do agree that potholes need filling; that young people need jobs; that communities need investment; and that a Mayor and a council leader who refuse to work together serve no one.

Collaboration and cooperation are a part of competent leadership.We need to look for more cross-party solutions to the difficult issues that our country faces and less of the performative attack lines seen at Prime Minister's Questions.

The structure of our politics shapes its culture. We cannot change one without the other.Importantly, Jo’s message that we have more in common than that which divides us was not a call for everyone to agree all of the time.

It was a call to recognise our shared humanity, even in our most profound disagreements with one another. A call to put forward a point of view without demonising those who have a different perspective.

Now, on the 10th anniversary of her assassination, we pay tribute to Jo. To her kindness to others, to her courage in her convictions, and to her unshakeable belief that people are fundamentally good and want what’s best for each other, just with different ideas on how to get there.

We pay tribute to PC Craig Nicholls and PC Jonathan Wright – the two officers who confronted and restrained her murderer, awarded the Queen's Gallantry Medal for their courage, and doing West Yorkshire Police and the entire country proud.

We pay tribute to Jo’s constituency office staff, who ensured she was not alone in her final moments, and who continued to serve their community with astonishing resilience and dedication, even as they struggled with the trauma of losing Jo.

And we also pay tribute to Jo’s sister – then a fitness instructor, now the tireless MP for Spen Valley. Kim Leadbeater did not seek public life, but when it called on her, she answered that call – with a determination to build a better future.

Without Kim, the More in Common Network and the Jo Cox Foundation would not exist. Without her extraordinary work in Parliament, we would not be having the most important and long overdue national conversation about assisted dying in British history.

That a woman who lost her sister in the most horrific of circumstances, is now fighting to ensure that everyone has the right to a more dignified, compassionate death is – to me – the most profound political story of our time. Jo was my friend. She was the best MP my hometown could have ever asked for. And her message of unity over division is exactly what we need to hear right now.