Did my alliterative title crack a smile? I hope so, because the rest of this post is pretty sombre.
Last post, I left you on the cliff-hanger of having completed my mentor training and awaiting to be matched with a suitable young person in our south east London neighbourhood. It was my small attempt at addressing some of the social inequalities we have been learning about.
Luckily for me, the youth charity approached me in January with a young lady called Jane* who’d had “a few health setbacks” in her teenage years and wanted to work towards getting back on track with a mentor who could help her towards gaining qualifications and professional work, long term. Great, I thought. Just what I was hoping for.
The very first time we met via Zoom, was with the youth workers and her mother present. Nothing hugely personal or controversial was revealed. We are trained on how it takes many months to win over the young person’s trust, and it’s only after then that we can get into the weeds of their life and issues. So no surprises that our conversation seemed so bland.
Due to COVID lockdown restrictions, we can only meet 1–1 for walks in the park but the first time we did, it was like the floodgates opened. Here was a designated person in her corner and it was like she’d just decided to trust me. I felt truly upset at what I was hearing. She was an optimistic, kind and intelligent young adult who’d suffered all sorts of disadvantages due to her socio-economic status, but was still managing to keep a big smile on her face and seek help.
She is the daughter of immigrants, living in a house with over 10 people with myriad problems of their own. She went in for routine surgery 2 years ago, with disastrous, and as yet undiagnosed consequences. She missed so much of her education due to this illness that she ended up being excluded from two schools. She went from studying STEM subjects for her A-levels to Dance at the only local school that would take her. Still, she brightly tells me how much she loves learning, and is only too willing to do her siblings’ more difficult homework for them.
My main priority at first was arranging for a proper diagnosis of her illness that was leading to her missing so much of school. However, more recently, she revealed something so troubling to me from her childhood that I had to inform the youth charity, who have escalated the issue to the police. It is now under investigation and adds a considerable load to her already overburdened mind.
I come back from spending Saturday afternoons with her, after each astounding revelation, wondering what would have happened if something similar had occurred to my baby sister. Would my (single) mother have allowed my sister to be kicked out of school? Or change away from STEM subjects where she showed interest and promise? Would she have allowed almost 2 years to pass without a diagnosis on a debilitating health condition? The answer is a resounding no, and therein lies the social inequality. It is so entrenched and so deep-rooted that almost every aspect of Jane’s life has been impacted, through no fault of her own.
I find it hard to be optimistic sometimes, and often feel totally helpless. I’m hoping my personal leadership story is a case of things getting worse before getting better.
*Note: Jane is not her real name, and this post has been written with her permission. Identifiable information has been intentionally left out to preserve Jane’s identity.
