H.M.P.

How better to celebrate the sixty joyous years of Elizabeth II's reign (I really want someone to work out how many days in that time it has actually rained - HOMOPHONE-BASED PUN!), than to reflect on the theatrical goings-on going on with certain gentlemen detained at the pleasure, or otherwise, of her maj? Actually, bearing in mind that to hold one prisoner for a year, it costs around £41,000, and the cost of each new prison place is £170,000 to build and maintain (apologies for 2010 statistics - lazy googling - please leave more update ones in the comment box if you have them to hand), I'd imagine it's not really at the pleasure of anyone. I mean, the only people who might be pleased about the number locked up (Hello, Mr Daily Mail bigot, sorry, I mean reader - OK, my political leanings and tabloid feelings aren't all that subtle) are the ones who think that the cost could be halved if we only could give them bread and water, cut the testicles off the paedophiles and have jolly well done with it. And god forbid we do DRAMA with them. Rehabilitation [scoff]? The only thing it might do is turn them into homosexuals, and then we really WILL need to rehabilitate them. OK, I'm sorry for the slight deviation (I'd never survive on 'Just a Minute'. And, yes, I am 24. And, yes, I am cool.), but I must just quickly further digress and point anyone who's never come across it in the direction of the Daily Mail-o-matic, a gorgeous little website which generates Daily Mail headlines, based on the most frequent words used, e.g.   

HAVE LESBIANS MOLESTED BRITAIN'S SWANS?

or

ARE IMMIGRANTS GIVING COMMON SENSE AND DIGNITY CANCER?

Oh, and if you haven't seen it, you also HAVE to watch The Daily Mail Song, by DAN & DAN:

Wow, I'm really heading off topic. Sorry. It's just I saw first-hand the impact of Jack Straw's dickish Prison Service Instruction in 2009, which stated that 'activities for prisoners' must be 'appropriate, purposeful and meet the public acceptability test', and we knew at the time what that meant, and who that public was. So shitting on the Daily Mail is actually less off topic than might be first conceived. I could totally argue my point to Nicholas Parsons....

ANYWAY, to try and back-track my way into a finished paragraph: I thought I would celebrate the Jubilee by waxing jubilant about some prison theatre I've been to in recent weeks. Most recently, on Wednesday night, just a couple of days ago, I saw an AMAZING performance of Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross; a play I had, to my shame, seen neither on stage or screen before this week. The production was put together by Synergy Theatre Project, a company I have much admiration for in their work to rehabilitate through the transformative power of theatre.

I have now seen a number of productions in various prisons across the country, and each one has its own cause for celebration, reflection and admiration. What struck me most about Synergy's production this week, however, was the enormous talent of the men performing. I know from first-hand experience that the standard of the performances in prisons and the talent amongst the cast is not to be under-estimated, or dealt with patronisingly, however the cast of Glengarry this week were probably the most talented I've so far seen behind locked doors. Not out of place in one of our top national theatres. 

The other prison excursion I haven't quite got round to writing about on here yet is The Accidental Imposter in HMP Winchester, by Playing for Time Theatre Company, which I saw a few weeks ago. Also a fantastic production, it was very reminiscent for me of The Government Inspector (which I co-directed there in 2010), no doubt due to the overt themes of deception, crime and punishment, and corruption at its heart. With fantastically original use of multi-media throughout the production, by the talented LaunchPad Productions, it was great to see such innovative use of film employed throughout. Despite this, I personally hope next year the company think about returning to their more traditional theatrical roots, with a play set in a very different historical moment, like they did with Oh What a Lovely War! and The Convict's Opera. Just personal preference. 

Nonetheless, they all did Her Majesty proud. 

Don't be so gay

With same sex marriage a hot political topic in the UK and the US, not to mention some very concerning legislature on the horizon in the Ukraine, issues around homosexuality are getting quite a bit of press at the minute (which reminds me - I still need to read and respond to the government's consultation before 14th June). I particularly enjoyed Victoria Coren's Why love trumps economics in last week's Observer; not only for its ideological argument, but also for the paragraph that ran: They [those in the Tory party revolted by the idea of gay marriage] know better than to reveal the full terrifying vision of social collapse that a gay wedding triggers in their minds: a church full of crop-haired anarchists, most of them speaking foreign languages; teenagers snorting heroin off the altar, most of them on Facebook; women publicly breastfeeding in the pews, most of them bishops; two newlywed drag queens high-fiving as a vicar in hotpants says: "You may now fist the bride."  Reading this on the train on the way back from a Northern socialist wedding (more a call to arms than celebration of romantic feeling; the groom's speech fleetingly referred to his wife before tackling the deficit, tax-avoidance and bankers' bonuses, before seguing nicely into a ceilidh), it also prompted an interesting discussion with my (straight) identical twin, over her feelings of the importance of marriage reforms for straight couples who don't want to get 'married', but instead want a 'civil partnership', to make things truly equal. Equality is a strange pigeon, as my girlfriend would say.

But, closer to home, I've been pretty frustrated recently (to put it nice and politely) with my own experience of what has ranged from latent heteronormativity to slurred bigotry, calling at casual homophobia and a few other stations on the way. Whether it's left-wing, predominantly open-minded friends who wouldn't date a bisexual, to those who don't believe lesbians can have sex, or facebook friends saying 'gay' as an insult, to people shouting stuff at me in the streets, I'M TIRED OF IT.

Picture the scene:

My beautiful girlfriend and I are about to enter a tube station to get the last train home after a night out.

GUY: Hey! I like what you're wearing (to GEM). Why don't you give me your number and maybe we could chat some more about fashion some time? (We didn't point out that this hardly constituted a conversation)

GEM: I'm OK, thanks.

GUY: Well, why don't you give me your number and you can give me a call later and tell us where you two end up, if it's any good?

GEM: Nah, it's alright. We're actually going home.

GUY: Well, why don't you give me your number anyway? (Credit should go to him for persistence, I will concede).

GEM: We're actually together (gestures at me).

GUY: (pause) Well, why don't you take my number anyway, so you can call me when you realise the strap-on's not enough, and it's a real cock you're after.

Charming. What did he think? That she was going to turn around and say, 'Oh my god, you're right! What have I been thinking?! I thought I was a lesbian, but now you've suggested it, meeting you, I've realised that all I needed was your big, giant, delicious cock to make me realise what I was missing. How silly of me....'????

Fade out.



Scene #2

Walking down the high street.

PAINT BALL GUY: Hey girls! Fancy shooting your boyfriends?

ME: I don't have a boyfriend. I have a girlfriend. You shouldn't make assumptions.

Fade out. 




Scene #3

Walking down the high street the following day.


PAINT BALL GUY #2: Hey, girl in blue.

ME: Hi. I'm not really interested in paint-balling.

PAINT BALL GUY #2: What about your friends? Or your boyfriend? Attractive girl like you must have a boyfriend.

ME: It obviously wasn't you I spoke to yesterday. I actually have a girlfriend.

GUY FROM BEFORE: Yeah - she's got a girlfriend.

PAINT BALL GUY #2: Do you both need boyfriends?

GUY FROM BEFORE: Wouldn't that slightly defeat....

Moron. Paint ball guy #2 - you disappoint me. Do we both need boyfriends?! I want to set Julie Bindel on him

Unimpressed fade out.




Scene #4


MY DOCTOR: What contraception are you using?

ME: I'm not.

DOC: Are you trying to get pregnant?

ME: No.

DOC: Do you have a boyfriend?

ME: No. I have a girlfriend.

DOC. Then there's no point going on the pill. Unless, of course, you are planning on having sex with men in the future? We're not all the bad, really!

ARGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH. Of course Mr Doctor, because I thought you men were all disgusting and gross and horrid, and that's why I have a girlfriend. Not because I accidentally fell in love with my best friend and was lucky enough that she fell in love with me too. Of course. And now you come to mention it, Mr Young & Cocky Doctor, I've just realised that you are not all that bad, really. Just some of you.

Fade out, sexually, with Bond girls dancing and Brigitte Bardot & Serge Gainsbourg playing in the background....

Hmmph.

Once upon a Friday

VERY EXCITING NEWS: my first published article! I have been waiting for this day for a very long time (judge me, I don't care! I always wanted to have something proper - other than a shit primary school limerick - published by the time I was 21. And failed. So upped it to 25, and I have won! Kate vs The World: Kate in the lead....for once. It's all 'cos my bloody twin sister had something published in Philosophy Now when we were still at sixth form. Although I am NOT COMPETITIVE. I just have to win at everything.). Anyway, the beautiful day arrived on Friday, when Arts Professional ran my article for their special edition on the Arts and Wellbeing. Now, I know technology is such that you can just click the link, but I'm going to copy the full text of my article below, because they cut a few lines out and I'm silly and precious and want them in (look out for the Jeanette W quote I recently posted - you'd never know I just read her book). So, there we go. Enjoy!

Storytelling and Well-being

As a creative facilitator, working in Drama and creative writing with a diverse mix of community groups, story is one of my main mediums – an important tool in my practitioner tool-kit (bouncing around with the juggling balls). I believe recognising the importance of stories in all of our lives, and how we can explore, manipulate and extend those narratives, is fundamental to our well-being. It is not simply an artistic medium; it is a life-line.

I work with a number of groups who could be seen as pushed to the periphery, inhabiting a space beyond the societal centre, such as young refugees (with Attic Theatre Company), women who experience mental distress (for CoolTan Arts), and addicts in recovery (for a Crime Reduction Initiative), to name a few. When I enter their space to facilitate a workshop, I am, inevitability, entering into their life-narratives, if only for a couple of hours. It may sometimes resonate very little, but for some I hope the work punctuates, provides a hiatus, starts a new paragraph (or if we’re lucky a chapter), turns a page…extends a metaphor. We might shift the story a bit, or we might give them a space to write a new one; either way, we play in and with stories, and can explore and experience the enormous power of them. Thus, for those in the margins, the arts can facilitate the journey from beyond centre-page to centre-stage.

The social importance of storytelling, and its symbiotic relationship with cultural heritage, is neither a new nor an especially provocative topic. From Beowulf to The Boy Who Cried Wolf, hopefully we can all recognise the importance of sharing community narratives (for both communities of location and communities of interest). It is more than the thread that binds us together; it is an umbilical-like rope. If we think back to Scheherazade in the tale of One Thousand and One Nights, with a rich tapestry of stories as her only currency, we can see how storytelling becomes a life-saver. It is also more than just a cliché to say that literature helps us feel less isolated; as Jeanette Winterson remembers in her recent autobiography: ‘I had no one to help me, but the T.S. Eliot [poetry book] helped me’[1]. Stories can be communicated in forms beyond prose: they are hidden all around us; they might be infiltrating our personal bubble from the headphones of someone’s annoyingly loud music on the tube, or found in a poem on a postcard, or in our newspaper. Whether we are looking for them or bump into them, stories are everywhere.  

So, we can see that storytelling, and the told stories all around us, can both help us in our understanding of who we are and make us feel less alone. But they have more than a dual purpose. If we move to thinking about autobiographical storytelling, we can see manifold benefits to personal and societal well-being. In her book on Autobiography and Performance, Deidre Heddon discusses the opportunity autobiographical performance provides to allow the marginalised subject to ‘talk out, talk back, talk otherwise’ and to ‘engage with the pressing matters of the present which relate to equality, to justice, to citizenship, to human rights’[2] – integral to the well-being agenda. Indeed, autobiographical performance not only highlights the potential for sharing otherwise silent narratives with the community, in a way that can be revealing and enlightening, but can also provide a vehicle for self-examination. The act of telling an audience our story necessitates the act of self-reflection and demands self-selection on which parts we decide to disclose. It also provides the opportunity to analyse our life as a continuous journey, rather than reflecting on events in isolation; through this it may be possible to identify patterns in our behaviour, and whether there is a dominant narrative that drives us. We can thus gain insight into our own lives.

The power of self-constructed narratives has been recognised as epistemologically and psychologically crucial to the construction of our own identity; in fact psychologist, neurologist and author Oliver Sacks has stated: ‘It might be said that each of us constructs and lives a “narrative” and that this narrative is us, our identities’.[3] If we are aware that we understand the world and our self through narrative, then it becomes easier to see our identity as fluid, rather than fixed and inflexible; this could give us a greater degree of control over our perceptions of the world, as autonomous subjects who can mould the stories we tell of ourselves.  This is even before we consider entering the world of fictitious performance, where we experiment with role and metaphor, where we can take on a new character with a tilt of the head, and relay stories miles away from our lived reality, yet which we still feel could be about us. Or don’t, and enjoy the liberation of that. Where can’t we travel through story? Through story we can take amazing journeys. Through story we can also come home.

---

[1] Winterson, J. (2012) Why be happy when you could be normal? London: Vintage, p40.

[2] Heddon, D. (2008) Autobiography and Performance, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp2-3. iogrn, D. (2008)  and author Drr Dr.

[3] Sacks, O. (1985) The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales. New York: Harper, p110. 

These be the verses #2

Staying in the mystical realm of the poetic imagination, or rather staying on the theme of poetry and my recent amblings in this district, there are a few things I forgot to say in my last post...

1) We are doing a bit of a recruitment drive for my poetry group at CoolTan Arts, so if anyone is interested in joining (girls only, I'm afraid) or knows of anyone who might be (friends working in community arts: are you working with any groups which have some creative ladies who might fancy joining our very supportive and welcoming group?) please get in touch! We are working towards a publication, and all levels are welcome. 

2) I also need to share, my week was made last week when one of my lovely colleagues at CoolTan emailed me in the FORM OF A HAIKU! Completely unprompted. Just a beautifully concise message in ancient Japanese poetic form. More people should do things like this. It makes the world a better place.

Send me a haiku

It breaks the monotony

Of shit life admin

3) I have just read Jeanette Winterson's exquisite autobiography: Why be happy when you can be normal?, and had to go out straight away and buy my own copy, so I can have it and lend it to people. I read this passage about our need for poetry, and what I see as the power of the arts, and wanted to share it:

I was confused about sex and sexuality, and upset about the straightforward practical problems of where to live, what to eat, and how to do my A levels. 

I had no one to help me, but the T.S. Eliot [book] helped me.

So when people say that poetry is a luxury, or an option, or for the educated middle classes, or that it shouldn't be read at school because it is irrelevant, or any of the strange and stupid things that are said about poetry and its place in our lives, I suspect that the people doing the saying have had things pretty easy. A tough life needs a tough language - and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers - a language powerful enough to say it how it is.

It isn't a hiding place. It is a finding place. 

(pp39-40)

Discuss...

These be the verses

A bit behind on my intended blog posts, as per usual, although this time predominantly influenced by the fact that I have been in bed with the 'flu for the last fortnight. I've got at least three things I want to write about, so shall start from the beginning (a very good place to start, as we established when this blog was born), and move through my excitements chronologically. Probably.

On 17th April, I attended a fantabulous writing masterclass with Patience Agbabi, Professions and Confessions: Creative Character Writing, at the Free Word Centre, as part of Apples and Snakes' Artists' Development Programme. Apples and Snakes is the 'leading organisation for performance poetry in England, with a national reputation for producing exciting and innovative participation and performance work in spoken word' (yes, that is stolen from their website), and is splendid. They have years' experience of great education work, and have also champion and celebrated the best of performance poetry talent since the early '80s. I got to know the organisation better when I worked with them earlier this year as one of the 'Young Writers' in Indiana Jones and the Extra Chair, which was a partnership between A&S, The Albany, and performance poet Simon Mole.

Simon Mole

I meant to write a blog post about IJatEC when the project finished in March, but....life.... and now it seems like a really long time ago. Although I think it was sunnier then! Anyway, it was a fantastic project to have been involved in - themed around family, festivities, food and heroes - and I felt privileged to have had the chance to work with so many lovely, talented people.  The performance nights were particularly memorable: more of an event than a performance, with us all sitting with the audience, sharing stories, food and laughter, and writing spontaneous poems. My 'parts' were to tell a story about how my primary school teacher is my super-hero (she is) whilst painting half my face like Spiderman (bizarrely it worked - the directorial genius of Peader Kirk) and to wander around with a feather duster reciting my little poetic piece 'How to Combat Stains and Spills' ("it's not just a stain, it's a particularly dirty stain...").

Patience Agbabi

So, after my adventures into performance poetry early this year (and my life getting a lot more poetic, through my creative writing work with CoolTan Arts and at Munster Rd. since then), I've tried to keep my ear to the ground for happenings in London, and Apples and Snakes have helped me do so.  Also, if I can avoid it, I NEVER turn down a free master class! And thus I found myself, on a very wet Tuesday afternoon, rocking up to profess and confess with Patience Agbabi. Well, write poems. From a character's perspective. Indeed, through a cleverly crafted workshop exercise, I developed - through no fault of my own - the tale of an actuary (the profession) who had run over her neighbour's dog, buried it, then helped them look for it for a week (the confession) - have you spotted the link to the title yet?

I was slightly terrified when we all read them back, as everyone else's were REALLY GOOD. Cue agonizing self-doubt about why I was there in the first place and related Imposter Syndrome feelings. Which is why I nearly fell over when a stand up comic there told me I was FUNNY. Which is pleasing. Particularly so, as little did I know I would return home that day only to leave the house despairingly little over the next two weeks. Apart from those occasions when I tried out, and failed at, being well enough to do things like go to conferences. They just looked like too much fun to miss! I'm not even joking (despite having established that this may be where my next career could be forged). But enough - I shall write about the excitement of my various conferi (plural??) next time. I may even think of a pun or two to throw in.

She works hard for the money

I work hard for the money....If only I had more...(don't worry I'm not begging your sympathy, donations and food parcels. Although I'm a polite young lady and would never turn them away. Please email for my address.)  

However, mumble-grumbling aside, I am feeling very lucky at the moment regarding work (amount of and quality of), and am still slightly reeling over my good fortune to be working with the groups and colleagues that I do.

'Who are they all?' I hear you ask, with an expression as eager as....my face looks a lot of the time. I'm a very eager person. Well, I shall reply by giving you The Break-Down. I tested my Dad on all my 8 (or something) jobs recently and he did pretty well, considering I can only remember all of them if I use my fingers. Don't worry, I won't be testing you, dear reader (to go a bit Charlotte Bronte), with some bizarre interactive blog-post version of Kim's Game. Although I would if I had the technical prowess.

So, in no particular order, these are Kate's jobs, clearly listed for your perusal:

Attic Theatre Company - jointly running weekly Drama workshops as part of Many Voices, one of Attic's outreach projects, working with young refugees/unaccompanied minors.

Crime Reduction Initiatives (C.R.I.) Abstinence and Aftercare, Munster Road - Creative writing and Drama, each once a month, working with men and women who are at different stages of recovery from substance misuse.


CoolTan Arts - Poetry Tutor for women who experience mental distress, for a community arts organisation who believe mental well-being is enhanced by the power of creativity.

Prendergast Vale College - Yr. 7 Drama teacher at a new comprehensive, co-ed. school in Lewisham, teaching a weekly Drama class.

Three Faiths Forum - inter-faith/inter-cultural facilitation in schools, both Drama-based for their School Linking programme, and as a facilitator for their Education team, delivering workshops/presentations in schools.

QUIT - Youth Presenter/Advisor for Quit Because, their youth programme, delivering smoking awareness workshops in schools and other youth settings.

Teen Boundaries, part of Family Lives - Outreach Worker, running workshops about sexualised bullying, sexual violence, the objectification of different genders, and other important issues like that. This is a new job I will be starting after Easter and I'm really excited, as I strongly believe that sex education in schools needs to develop its focus on emotional education and the complexities of sexual relationships (with any gender).

Diversity Role Models - 'Role Model'/speaker for DRM, working in schools to combat homophobic bullying by presenting 'real life' people to talk to them, of a spectrum of sexual identities. I've written about them on here a couple of times, so scroll to earlier blog posts if you are interested.

Ummm.... Is that it? Have I forgotten any? I'm on Cragrat's books as a freelancer, but haven't had any work yet. Oooh, and I'm sort of setting up a theatre company with my good friend Madelaine, but more on that soon (suspense, suspense)...


*I should put a little disclaimer to say that the title of this post is only referencing the fact that I'm working pretty damn hard, rather than any allusion to prostitution (haven't had to go down that road yet) which the song always seems to suggest to me.

At the end of the day...it was NOT miserable

Too many blog posts to write, too little time... I keep thinking of things I want to write about (and even vaguely composing them in my head on the tube), but so few of them seem to happen; my life has been pretty mental recently - lots of new things to relate on here job-wise...I should probably write a blog post about them!

But I really do want to mention my exciting day last Sunday (not updating chronologically, but hey, as my students would say: 'And what?').

I think it will take me a very long time to forget Sunday 11th March 2012. Firstly, I got to spend a beautiful day on the wonderful Annie McKean's narrow boat (she even let me drive a little bit!), with friends and family, on a gorgeous spring day. The kind where, as Philip Larkin would say, 'The trees are coming into leaf/ Like something almost being said'. THEN we went to HMP Erlstoke to see Les Miserable, a Pimlico Opera production, with professionals and prisoners.

It was seeing West Side Story by Pimlico Opera in HMP Winchester, when I was 14 years old, that triggered the epiphany moment where I realised what I wanted to do with my life. As the men stood there singing:

There's a place for us

Somewhere a place for us

Peace and quiet and open air

Wait for us 

Somewhere.

There's a time for us

Somewhere a time for us

Time together with time spare

Time to learn, time to care

Some day!

 ...etc!

I remember the hairs standing up on the back of my neck; feeling shocked and sad and proud and filled with hope. I thought: the arts AND social justice - my two favourite things!

HMP Erlstoke

Skip forward ten years and I'm queuing to get into another prison (my fifth?) and I'm thinking: Les Mis AND Prison Theatre - my two favourite things! (Nearly - please forgive my rhetorical flourishes, Miss Fox, cheesecake and my family). I do have a particular attachment to Les Mis, not just because I love the music and I have strong memories of choreographing dances to 'At the End of the Day' with my sisters in our living room when I was little, but also because over last summer while I was writing my thesis and permanently had my head in a library, whenever I was feeling despairing or uninspired or angry with the librarians using 'Outdoor Voices' (I thought I was going to commit librarianicide), I used to plug my headphones in and listen to songs from the soundtrack on Youtube until I felt ready to work again. Many a day spent sitting in the sticky heat, staring at piles of pointless paper and listening to 'One Day More' VERY loudly....

Anyway, this isn't just a little Les Mis memory fest. No, no, no. I really want to talk about what went on inside HMP Erlstoke that beautiful spring evening, how powerful, affecting and inspiring it was.  As I said, I've seen a number of Pimlico productions before. They have a very different methodology to the other Prison Theatre companies I've worked with, namely Playing for Time and Clean Break, although I won't go into an in-depth discussion of the pros and cons of each now; you'll have to take me for a coffee (and a brownie, the brownie is obligatory) to hear my detailed analysis of the prisoner experience, the aesthetic merits and the complexities of process Vs product, if you want to get my fuller views on the subject. But I will just say that this year I was really pleased to see the prisoners were more integral to and integrated into the final production, with only the women and Jean Valjean and Javert played by professionals. The prisoners playing Marius, Gavroche and Thenardier stood out as particularly excellent. It was such a good choice of musical, as well, as there are obviously themes of justice, culpability and redemption throughout. Think: 'Look down/ Look down/ They've all forgotten you', 'Drink with me to days gone by/ To the life that used to be' and, evocatively, 'Who am I?'

Who were they?   Actors.       Artists.         Brave.

Les Mis in HMP Erlstoke - image from Pimlico Opera website

Losing my Diversity Role Models virginity

On Tuesday morning earlier this week, I volunteered for the first time for Diversity Role Models, a charity which I wrote about in an earlier blog post which aims to combat homophobic bullying in schools. I practised my little talk on the doddery Metropolitan line up to the school in Harrow that morning, and had made an effort to look quite feminine - both because I feel a bit more confident in schools sometimes with a bit of make-up on, and also because (with my particularly short hair at the moment) I wanted to try and counter any obvious (butch) stereotypes that the young people might have regarding what a 'lesbian' (or bisexual, or a woman who is in a relationship with another woman) looks like. I had decided to talk a bit about having a 'straight' identical twin, as in the training we had discussed how that might be a good discussion  point and something that the young people found interesting. Generally, it seems that our over-riding message was, 'Hey, we're just people, and being L, G, B, or T isn't the most interesting thing about us'. We might feel it is a huge part of our identity, we might not; we might think a label defines us, we might not. Most of all, it's just about who we love - and does that really need to provoke hate, abuse or fear?

It was an amazing morning and I was really impressed by the honest and self-awareness of the students (aged 12-13). Many students wrote on their feedback forms that the thing they had enjoyed the most was the refreshing honesty from adults, who were prepared to talk openly and confidently about their sexuality and answer their questions, and some wrote that their favourite thing was meeting a real life gay person for the first time. One student even wrote on his feedback sheet that the thing s/he enjoyed least was 'realising how much I use the word gay and feeling embarrassed and ashamed about it, as know it is offensive' - how honest and self-aware! And others wrote that the thing they enjoyed least was 'hearing about the boy Dominic who killed himself as it made me sad and angry'. It was interesting and moving reading them back, and confirmed to me how frighteningly important DRM's mission is.

I left feeling inspired. Buzzing. Full of thoughts and questions, ideas and emotions. I can't wait to go in again.


Post-script
Couple of other DRM things:
Check out this video on youtube by the L Project: It Gets Better, aiming to help raise awareness and monies for charities (including DRM) which work to prevent LGBT bullying among young people

Also go visit the Diversity Role Models' blog (I would particularly recommend the entry 'To Gay or Not to Gay?') and also the article on the Observer the other week about homophobic bullying and Dominic Crouch.

This is England...

He pointed out at the boys playing football on the school sports pitch in the drizzle.

'This is very nice.'

I assumed that since he had only been learning English for three and a half months, he probably hadn't mastered sarcasm yet.

'Ummm.... Yes...?'

'England is very nice. No trouble. This....' - he gestured around him - '...very...quiet. No boom boom boom.' He made an internationally recognised hand signal.

'Gun fire?'

'Yes. I like England.'

At the end of the workshop he came up and shook my hand.

'I am very looking forward to next week, for Drama. I see you next week.'

'Yes. I'm looking forward to it too.'

And I am. Although there is a bit of trouble at the school, at the moment, and the young refugee boys are being targeted and victimised by some of the other students at the school, to such an extent that one of them had to be escorted home for his safety, and we had to end our workshop early so we could escort them back to the area of the school where they study until they are ready for timetabled classes, before lunch break so they were safe.

It makes me sad.

It's also interesting that these boys, who have arrived here from all across the world (predominantly Afghanistan, but also Poland, Bulgaria, Sri Lanka, Romania, Pakistan, Albania....) start off so, so polite and respectful; they are, I think - and they do articulate this, best they can - so grateful to be here, to be safe and to be studying in a British school. But then, as they become more confident,and more importantly I think, as they see the behaviour of the students in the school around them - much less respectful and polite, feeling far less privileged to be getting an education - they start to emulate the attitude of the British boys. Picking up on their walks, their language, their ways of interacting. One of the teachers in the 'Link', where the young migrants study until they are ready to be thrust into the mainstream, said, with a sad sigh, they become 'British-ified'. He said, 'We want them to integrate, just not too much!'

Working in all the different contexts and community groups that I do has so many benefits and one of these is just gaining insights into different worlds I wouldn't normally enter; it raises so many issues: social, political, cultural, personal... It sounds a bit trite to summarise it like this, but it makes me think a lot. Miss Fox was right: my education is continuing all the time.

Diversity Role Models

At the end of conferences I am known to surreptitiously secrete the left-over teabags about my person. Or the occasional carton of orange juice. It's the way I roll. Intellectual stimulation, perhaps new networks created and friends made, and one of my 5-a-day for the rest of the week - who could ask for more? But a training event I attended last night truly surpassed all others, as I left with a bulging bag stuffed to the brim with left-overs: a bottle of wine, soft drinks, and a (Blue Peter-esque) tin foil tray, artfully folded to contain samosas, rice, pitta bread and fancy salads. The catering had been generously sponsored (as had the rather nice venue in Red Lion Square) by law firm Mishcon de Reya - so I'll raise a glass to them. I'm currently tucking into a stuffed vine-leaf as we speak (I type).

However - believe it or not - it was not the culinary delights of last night (and lunch time today) that inspired me to write this post. Far from it. Instead, I really wanted to say a little bit about Diversity Role Models, who were running the training.

DRM's mission is to combat homophobic bullying in schools by educating young people about differences in sexuality and gender identity. Their method is to communicate with students directly, using positive role models to counter negative stereotypes and educate young people about diversity. Last night I was training to be one of those role models. It feels a bit strange to say that, to be actively putting myself forward as a role model; I'm sure if many parents saw the messy state of my bedroom (I will get tidier, I promise) they'd baulk at the idea of me as a perfect role model. But at DMR we were assured that we're not set up as aspirational emblems; we do not need to be 'successful, attractive or brilliant', indeed if we all were I guess we'd fail at representing diversity. The point is that we are real people, who represent a broad spectrum of sexual identities (in fact, in my opinion, each and every person represents a different sexual identity, as how can such an intrinsic and personal thing be anything other than unique), and are happy to talk to young people about what it means to be L, G, B, T, straight, queer, or however we self-identify.

It was such an inspirational evening. And I don't say that lightly. I feel so, so passionately about this agenda: about tackling homophobia, prejudice, fear and intolerance. At a time where LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) young people are three times more likely to attempt suicide and two thirds of them suffer bullying at school, how is this not important?

The event was really thought-provoking as well. It made me cast a retrospective eye over my time at school: Had people come out? (only one in my year, and it didn't end well) What were the prevailing attitudes to homosexuality? (I did a survey for my Sociology coursework at sixth form on this topic and was surprised to find so many 'It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve' attitudes, in what I thought was quite a liberal area) What about casual homophobia embedded into everyday language? ('That's so gay', 'Don't be so gay!', 'Urghh, they should be re-named GAY Levels!' Poor excuse for a pun. Gay, gay, gay - you hear it everywhere, and not in the sense my grandma still uses it. I remember hearing it for the first time when I was about 11 and being quite upset. When did this become acceptable?). And what about LGBT role models? Sparse would be an under-statement. Some of the others there were quite shocked by my revelation that I know basically no gay women (with the obvious exception of my beautiful girlfriend, the fabulous Miss Fox!), and certainly no Older Wiser Lesbians (OWLs - a term Gem introduced me to a while back). We need diverse role models. Young people need to know that 'gay' isn't just an insult and doesn't just mean one type of person.

Any excuse for a picture of an owl...

Listening to the other role models there to be trained, and the stories they told, I felt privileged to be party to their honesty, humour and insight.


So, a little plug: if, like me, you think this is an important issue, check out the Diversity Role Models website, or even visit their charities trust page.

Gosh, I feel all impassioned and stuff... Maybe I should use the excess energy to go and tidy my room. Or fervently apply for jobs I don't really want and would be paid tuppence for.... Maybe I'll just have another samosa and quietly reflect on the state of the world.