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; the group refocuses and the activity continues successfully. I cannot, however, stop thinking about what I’ve said. I know that Sue finds it difficult to read appropriate behaviour and worries that she is annoying other people. I’m furious with myself for my unprofessional and unhelpful behaviour. Mostly I’m angry that I’ve upset a young person I genuinely care about. The glass walls of the room simultaneously feel oppressive and make me visible to the world outside the meeting.
We finish the meeting. The activity is successful, we end up with a table-top full of post-it notes jumbled together into some semblance of organisation. I join in with the chatter of conversation and busy-ness. We all go our own ways.
Later that evening I am still thinking about my comment and I text Sue an apology from my work phone. She replies immediately saying that it is okay, I was right, she was being annoying. I reply again saying that, even if she was, it wasn’t ok for me to say it. And then I return to the rest of my evening.
Snapshot three
It’s 2016 and a group of young people have organised an event to ensure that young people’s views are fed into a consultation about youth mental health services in the city.
The event is taking place at in a quirky venue with multiple room and activities. The whole place is decorated with fairy lights. In one room young people anonymously write their fears on balloons and let them float away to be collected and recorded later. In another room young people attend a workshop about teenage psychology. In another room young people answer survey questions as they cycle on a bike that powers a smoothie maker. Another room houses a marketplace of services that young people might like to know about. Another room is a chill-out space with music and beanbags (the group was very specific that there needed to be beanbags). There are also multiple other rooms.
Over 120 young people pass through the event. If they take part in all of the activities (and therefore answer all the consultation questions), they get a free burrito. The event has been entirely planned, advertised and run by young people. It is the culmination of six months of weekly meetings – although we all know that there will be more work to compile and analyse all of the data that we are collecting.
My role is simply to ensure that everyone gets the burrito that they want.
Discussion
After writing and editing our stories, we (Christina, Katherine and Myada) met to discuss the similarities and differences in our stories and the most important aspects of our experiences that we wanted to highlight. In this short discussion section, we discuss two themes that feel important to us and are also reflected in the academic literature: the importance of relationships in young people’s participation and the concept of ‘space’ in young people’s participation.
Relationships
In the (not so) ‘new sociology of childhood’, James and Prout (1997)
