I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: creativity saved my life.
That might sound dramatic, maybe even a little overdone. But if you’ve ever felt voiceless- truly voiceless – you’ll understand that creativity can become not just an outlet, but a lifeline. For me, it’s been a way to unearth parts of myself long buried under trauma, stigma, and misdiagnosis. It’s how I’ve made sense of a world that wasn’t built for me. And now, it’s how I fight for a better one-for myself, and for other young people who’ve been silenced, labelled, left behind.
So when I got the chance to work with specifically supporting Bee, their Marketing and Communications Manager, to help make The Mighty Creatives’ (TMC) social media more youth-led, more authentic, more real… I jumped at it.
Because this isn’t just about communications. It’s about participation. Power. Voice. And rewriting the narrative from the inside out.
I spent years being labelled as “difficult,” “too complex,” “a lost cause.” My path through childhood and adolescence was littered with psychiatric hospital admissions, a lack of understanding about my neurodivergence (I’m autistic with a PDA [Pathological Demand Avoidance] profile and have ADHD [Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), and a chronic sense that I didn’t belong. The mainstream system failed me, not because I wasn’t trying, but because it was never set up for someone like me to thrive in the first place.
It wasn’t until 2020 that I received an autism diagnosis. It gave me language for what I’d always known but never been able to explain: that the way I processed, communicated, and experienced the world wasn’t wrong- it was different. And that difference deserved support, not shame.
Creativity became the way I rebuilt myself. Whether it was bullet journaling, performance, visual art, or writing, it gave me something the system never did: space to be seen. Fully. Without judgment or condition.
My work with The Mighty Creatives began with one clear aim: to make their social media a space that not only talked about youth voice but was shaped and led by it.
Together, Bee and I began with a full social media audit. We looked at what had been shared before, where youth voice was present, and crucially, where it wasn’t. We asked big questions: Who’s being centred? Who’s missing? What assumptions are being made about young people, creativity, and communication?
From there, I carried out research into best practice across the youth and creative sectors. I wanted to see examples of organisations that genuinely lived their values, where young people weren’t just “involved,” but leading, challenging, disrupting. This wasn’t about finding a content formula- it was about understanding the ethics of storytelling, the politics of voice, and how organisations can become safe containers for lived experience to be shared, without it being commodified or co-opted.
I then started co-creating content, beginning with Autism Acceptance Month, World Book Day, and now Mental Health Awareness Week. These weren’t just campaign themes; they were pieces of me. The content was deeply personal, rooted in my lived experience of neurodivergence, trauma, survival, and healing. We focused on storytelling that felt human, vulnerable, and hopeful, shaped not by statistics but by solidarity.
And this is only the beginning. Bee and I have had big, blue-sky conversations about where this could go. We’ve dreamed up everything, covering all aspects of the TMC business plan- we chatted about platforms, newsletters and community, youth-led creative campaigns, to content takeovers, peer-led video diaries, storytelling, and radical creative zines. Sadly, we don’t have the funding to roll out all our ideas (yet!), but there is something liberating about daring to dream beyond the limits of what’s “realistic.” After all, change never starts in the budget- it starts in the vision.
Too often, organisations fall into the trap of tokenism – bringing in young people just enough to tick a box, but not enough to create real change. That’s why I’ve come to really value the Treseder Model of Participation – something Emily, our Head of Programmes, talks about often and passionately. Unlike hierarchical frameworks like Hart’s Ladder, Treseder’s model rejects the idea of a “top” or “bottom.” Instead, it offers five forms of youth participation – each valid in its own right – ranging from consultation to young people-led initiatives, depending on the context and intention.
What I love about this model is that it acknowledges flexibility and fluidity, rather than presenting one rigid idea of what “meaningful participation” has to look like. It’s not about climbing a ladder- it’s about choosing the right form of participation for the right moment, with mutual respect, clarity, and shared power at the core.
My work with Bee has really embodied this ethos. I haven’t just been asked to “give feedback” or sit on the sidelines. I’ve been actively involved in shaping strategy, creating content, and offering critique, working alongside Bee as a true partner in the process. That balance of guidance and trust, structure and freedom, is exactly what the Treseder model stands for.
And that’s the kind of approach we need more of if we’re serious about embedding real, lived youth voice into our communications- not as an afterthought, but as a driving force.
To me, creativity and justice are inseparable. Creativity is how we tell the truth. It’s how we reimagine systems that have failed us. It’s how we amplify voices that were never meant to survive, let alone thrive.
Working with The Mighty Creatives has reminded me that communications can be an act of advocacy. That Instagram isn’t just a platform- it can be a protest. That a blog post isn’t just content- it’s a call to action. And that social media, when led by the people most affected, can shift narratives in ways that matter.
There’s still so much to do. But we’re building something beautiful. A space where creativity and voice collide. A platform where young people don’t just speak- they are heard, seen, and valued.
This isn’t just a project for me. It’s part of my purpose. And I’m proud to be on this journey with Bee, The Mighty Creatives, and every young person whose story is still waiting to be told.
To anyone reading this who feels voiceless- hold on. Your story matters. Your creativity matters. And your voice, when you’re ready to use it, has the power to change everything.
