Young People’s Participation. Группа авторов
feel like I could organise a whole festival from what I’ve learned! And I learned to ask for the things I needed – people are usually nice and help if they can.
By the end of the sex education project, our group had spent ages talking about sex education and learning from each other, but we also knew how much we weren’t taught in schools and how important it is that the education we get about sex is good. At the Conversation for Action, the adults agreed with pretty much everything we said. I feel like when we first sat down they probably thought, “This is just a thing that we have to do” but then when we started speaking they were like, “Oh they actually have real opinions that are just as good as ours.” It was nice to see them scribbling down when we were saying things, it was like, “Wow! They are actually taking notes on what we’re saying.”
And I grew in confidence in public speaking, which is just not a thing you get to do very often at that age unless you are head boy or head girl. I was doing it all the time, whether it was in a group of ten people organising an activity or actually doing the gatherings and conferences. Who speaks at a conference when they are 15? If you said to me now, “There’s a conference tomorrow could you come and speak?”, I’d check my shifts at work and be like, “Yeah let’s go, cool!” It’s crazy, young people so rarely get to present to adults and have them properly listening and I think that’s the main thing that has built my confidence a lot, that people actually listened to me.
I’m not so involved now because of work, but I know that it’s there and I could be involved. I got an email from one of the staff about a meeting and when I said I couldn’t go to the meeting she said, “Do you fancy catching up anyway?” and I was like, “Yes!” I always really loved those little personal emails when staff remember that we’ve been on holiday or remember we’ve had a test, it’s so nice. Even some of my friends won’t ask me like “How was that?” and then I get a wee email from YEA and it makes me happy.
I don’t see the other people who were involved every week any more, but we have a group chat and we all look after each other. There have been people who have been through big things and it was crazy how involved we all were. Like when Myada had really difficult things in her life and people were checking in and seeing what was happening. And obviously we knew that the staff were also checking in loads and that’s so nice to see. She’s my friend, and to see an adult who isn’t her mum or a parent taking care of her in the way I’d want her to be taken care of is so nice.
Now I’m 18 and pretty different to that shy 12-year-old. I’m confident in my actions and I’ve got a mind of my own – my mum might say too much of a mind of my own! I’m not smarter than other people who are 18 but I feel like I’ve got a better understanding of people. I know what words to use with what people and I kind of say things how they are rather than try to sugar-coat things. Now I know that my opinion is completely valid. I think that’s from being involved in YEA.
Christina’s story
This section of the chapter is a reflective piece based on my experiences as a participation worker. I worked at YEA from 2013 to 2019 as a participation worker and the project has a very special place in my heart. I have now moved on and work to promote young people’s participation in academic settings, including the TRIUMPH project with the University of Glasgow.3
I have framed my account through several snapshots of memories that stand out and, I judge, are illustrative of my time with the project.
Snapshot one
It is 2014. Six young people, and nine adults are sitting at a long board meeting table in Edinburgh City Chambers for the Sex Education Action Research Group’s Conversation for Action. We are surrounded by oil paintings, and the formality of the setting feels at odds with the conversation that we are having. The common theme of the meeting so far has been that young people aren’t receiving the level of sex education that the policies and guidelines say they should receive. I notice that every time a young person says “sex education” one of the adults around the table makes a point of saying “RSHP”4 in the next sentence as if to correct them. I take this to be a, probably, subconscious reminder to young people that they not using the correct language and are somehow less knowledgeable. It irritates me but I choose not to intervene and I am proud that the group don’t change their language in response.
One of the young people is describing how many of the toilets in her school don’t have sanitary bins. The most senior decision maker (one of only two men in the room) is visibly shocked and says, “Well, at least we can easily ensure that all girl’s toilets in our schools have sanitary bins.” I notice the relief on his face and the faces of others around the room, including, I imagine, my own. The issues discussed around the table have been complex and controversial; I would like an easy win, a clear outcome among other less measurable commitments. Opening up the conversation has been an achievement in itself but I worry that the young people might not see it like that; I want them to have a hook on which to hang the success of the group.
Katherine interrupts: “Not just the girls’ toilets.” The director looks confused and she goes on: “Some boys have periods too – what about trans men who still have vaginas?”
My colleague and I exchange a smile. My overwhelming feeling of pride in this young woman, who has spoken up in a formal group of adults and expressed her point so clearly, is only slightly tempered by the realisation that this was no longer going to be an easy win. I am also in awe of a 14-year-old girl who confidently uses the word ‘vagina’ to explain a point to a middle-aged man. I often find myself explaining how young people bring different perspectives and knowledge to discussions; in that moment, this truth entered the room for all to see.
Snapshot two
It’s 2017 and I’m working with a small group of young people, most of whom I know well. We are crowded into a small group-work room with glass walls and it is in the evening of what has already been a long day. I am leading a group-work activity where we brainstorm ideas and arrange them on a table-top diagram. Although the activity is finally going well, there is an edgy energy in the room. It has taken us a long time to get to the point of the activity; there was lots of chat and in-jokes from people in the room who know each other well, but I’m aware of a couple of new young people who might be intimidated by our familiarity.
Myada and Sue5 who have both been involved in the project for a long time are, for reasons unknown, snapping at each other. At first I think it is in fun, but after a few minutes I am not so sure; they are making pointed remarks towards each other that no longer feel entirely comfortable. I know that these two young women have very different communication styles and I also know that they both have a lot going on in their lives, but I don’t know how well they know each other and I wonder if there is a context of which I’m unaware.
Sue is talking a lot more than Myada and I worry that Myada is really upset. I am trying to keep the conversation light-hearted while wondering what is going on at home for her. Sue is talking loudly, repeating statements that she has been making for the past few minutes. I know – as do most of the group – that Sue is autistic. I am aware that she can get anxious in groups and that her communication style sometimes reflects this. I’m not remotely upset by either of the girls, but I am concerned about both of them and also concerned that their conversation is affecting the group dynamic. I need a bit of time to think. I want the group to refocus on the activity. And I’m tired.
I tell Sue to shut up.
I say it in a jokey way, but the moment the words have left my mouth I regret them. There is suddenly silence in the room and I feel everyone’s eyes on me. My colleague says, “You can’t say that!” and I’m not sure if she is shocked or amused or both. I apologise. I explain to the new group members that Sue knows me well, that she knows I don’t mean it seriously. Sue says that it is fine, and laughs, but I can see that she is taken aback.
My actions have disrupted the tension;