Lisa

From living alone at 17, Lisa has just won a YJB prize for her youth work

I was 17 when I got my own place. I was with a few mates before that, just sofas and that sort of thing, which was horrible because I never knew where I was going to spend the next night. I felt quite unwanted and like I had nowhere to go, which wasn’t nice.

My mum kicked me out which is why I ended up living on sofas. My stepdad was an alcoholic and quite pervy and when I told her about it she wouldn’t believe me, even though she was there when it happened. She just got really defensive and kicked me out. I’m gutted about the relationship with my mum because I used to be really close to her. She kicked my sister out too when she was only 16.

I’m finding it hard and expensive having my own house. Budgeting and paying my bills is easy, but it’s not nice doing it, because I never had to do it before, but now I’m coping alright – although it leaves me a bit short sometimes. I have quite a bit of support. I have foundation housing and a youth service which helps me out if I need help with my money, or just someone to chill with when I’m a bit bored, so they help a lot.

I suppose I am coping. I don’t feel depressed or anything, but sometimes I do wish I could go back a couple of years and change things and sort stuff out with my mum and that sort of thing.

Money is really tight. The Jobcentre ‘forgot’ to pay me and gave me a crisis loan of £40 to last two weeks, but usually I get £50 a week. Out of that I pay £20 for electric and £10 for the TV licence. I’m meant to be getting a bursary from college of about £40 a week soon too. Two months ago my hot water stopped and the council didn’t really help, they just kept blaming me, saying I wasn’t around when they called, but I know they didn’t call. They still haven’t been round and I’m still without hot water. I’m coping because there’s an electric back up system, but it’s really expensive – about six or seven pounds for a bath.

I don’t feel I’m getting much YOT support. They’re actually really starting to wind me up now! They just don’t seem to want to talk to me at all. It’s like they only want to talk to me if I’m in trouble. I’m still on an order until next April and I don’t feel I’m getting the right support.

I’ve got other activities I’m involved with though. Obviously I like doing User Voice, and an education worker has got me doing a charity thing for old people – I cooked them a Christmas dinner at Christmas. I really love doing that sort of work.

I had a great time at the Youth Justice Board convention too. I always do. I was presented by the YJB with an award for the girls’ group I’m involved with, which felt really good. It shows they really do listen and that the girls’ group is doing some good. I’m going to put the £500 prize towards a local community project, doing up a street. I’m going to be in the local paper again too, so yeah, I’m really proud of myself!

Taken from Issue 19

J

J was a victim of gun crime, which he puts down to today’s street culture

I got three shotgun wounds to my legs. I was on the street when a car randomly pulled up and men in balaclavas wound down the window and shot me. I started running and they chased me down and shot me twice again.

What was going through my head wasn’t exactly pain – it was a strange feeling, like “I can’t believe this is happening.” I couldn’t feel pain till the next day after surgery, but while it was happening I just laid there with no real emotions about it.

At first the doctors were saying it was life-threatening, and then it was just limb-threatening, where I could lose my limbs, but now I can walk and I just have to see how it goes. My Achilles tendon had been blown off and had to be reconnected. The bottom of both legs couldn’t ‘breathe’ so they had to open them up for the blood to go all the way down and what I’m left with are very severe scars. The healing process is a minimum of years for all I know. Only time will tell. My legs could be like this for the rest of my life.

I can’t say precisely what led up to the incident – it’s just the world we live in nowadays; it’s what the streets are like. If you’re in this kind of environment with these kinds of people, now and again bad stuff like this happens.

Going to hospital and everything since has been an eye-opener. Because I couldn’t walk for such a long time, I had to take my first steps again – yeah, it was a proper eye-opener, I can’t really explain. In a way I know it sounds mad and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but it has been sort of good for me. It’s changed my views on so many things. I recently had a daughter and I have another child on the way, and I just can’t see myself not being there for them. I’m not trying to be a big man or anything, but even with armed men chasing me down the street I didn’t fear anything, but now I’m a father, what I do fear is my kids not having a dad when they’re older. That’s the only thing that really frightens me.

My hopes for the future are that soon I can get back working at the gym and do my Level 3 qualification. I want to show people that even if you do have big injuries, if your mind is in the right place you can get through anything. It would be great to lead by example and show that injuries don’t have to hold you back. I’m only young myself but I want to let even younger people have the benefit of my experience.

My criminal past is done now. It’s not kids’ play out here, it’s serious stuff. You might feel like a big man, but when you’re laid up in hospital you’ll regret it.
I hope all the people seeing these pictures realise that gun crime isn’t pretty and it doesn’t pay.

Taken from Issue 19

Damian

Damien is working with the CRAE to help improve conditions for young people in custody

I got involved with the Children’s Rights Alliance because of my past experience of being in custody. I wanted to change that experience for people who go through it. I especially want to change how officers treat young people.

I quickly got used to prison and felt comfortable. I got used to people opening doors for me; I felt like my responsibilities were taken away from me and I didn’t have to think about anything or worry about what was happening every day. Some prison officers were alright, but most of them weren’t. No one gets on – there’s really no relationship there. The ones that were OK understood us and what we were going through and they showed us more care, so it was easier to approach them. I think they’d probably had similar unsteady upbringings and would have understood what it was like to be at the bottom.

There is excessive force used and there’s no need for it. When they used extreme force it made me really angry. You don’t want to talk to them again after that – it causes a rift and an atmosphere and I felt like I wasn’t cared for. You have to put in complaints which don’t get you anywhere, so you feel like there’s no point trying.

When I kicked off, in a way I was quite relieved to know I was keeping them away from their home at 10 o’ clock at night. It was a kind of payback. I’ve had heavy-handed prison officers and I’m not frightened, but they’re just unreasonable – there’s just no need for about 12 of them to come at you all suited and using force.

I think we need more CCTV and audio-monitoring to improve the situation and relationships. This is a proposition that’s been put forward with the CRAE, and I feel something should be done about it. I definitely think there should be more done in terms of character checking. We need to check their personal background and know that they’re people who’ve done similar roles before and have worked with young people. This way young people can relate to prison officers more and explain what they’re going through if they’re feeling low or angry, without feeling so judged.

Life now is good and I’m doing well. I’ve never been out of custody for this long. It’s all much more stable – everything’s going well. I’ve had a child and that’s changed everything really. I feel good knowing I can bring my child up to have a better life than I’ve had. I’ve got lots of other things coming up too, and I’m passionate, willing and capable.

It feels good to know that I’m making a difference to young people’s futures.

Taken from Issue 19

Lucy

Lucy was kicked out of home on her 17th birthday

My mother and I have never had a good relationship; the difference in our personalities has always kept a brick wall between us. For years there’s been tension in our household and even months when my mother and I haven’t communicated unless absolutely necessary. She had kicked me out of the house on multiple occasions in the past and would send me to a family member until she had ‘cleared her mind’. But this, on my 17th birthday, was the first time that I felt totally abandoned.

It was smoking weed that led to me being kicked out. I’ve been smoking for three years now and I have always tried to be honest with my mum about my habit but she’s never able to understand why I smoke. When she first found out she thought it was because of peer pressure and that I was an addict when in actual fact I only smoked occasionally – maybe something like every two weeks. But because she has cousins that were weed addicts she never believed me when I said it was just an occasional thing. She tried to move me out of the area; I moved out of Peckham and in with my father but it became apparent that I would smoke wherever I lived and that it wasn’t really my friends who made me smoke. So I moved back to Peckham with the promise that I’d cut down and I did.

But then I went to college and found lots of people who smoked weed. I started doing it every day – every break just because it was always there. I even missed lessons just to smoke. As most of the friends I made in college were older than me, hanging out with them meant being out late and so I started coming home very late. My mother tried to give me curfew, but to avoid being locked out I just started staying over friends’ houses and I’d go days without seeing my mum. This, along with getting arrested for possession of weed, is what drove her to kick me out.

After I got arrested my mother started going a bit nuts – she started panicking and getting ideas in her head that I was dealing and that I was in a gang. Her aggro made me smoke more and made me want to be out the house more. I got a YOT when I got arrested but my mother wasn’t satisfied – she wanted me to go to prison to teach me a lesson. It’s things like this that make me think my mother wants nothing good for my life. She searched my room and found my weed box and finally decided she wanted me out, so she kicked me out with no clothes and forbade any family members from taking me in.

For two weeks I was moving from one friend’s sofa to another and I couldn’t go to college. Mum wouldn’t answer my calls and when I went to the house she’d pretend she wasn’t in. If it wasn’t for support from my friends and from the people at the YOT who helped me get a hostel, I’m not sure what I would have done. There were times when I wanted to leave college as I felt I had no future anymore. Many people have told me that I should just stop smoking weed but I feel that’s unnecessary. I’ve decided to cut down and only smoke on weekends, and hopefully gradually I’ll go back to only smoking occasionally like on friends’ birthdays and New Year’s like I used to. I don’t think weed is bad in small doses – this is what my mother clearly failed to understand and this is why I have had to leave home indefinitely. I do hope one day we’ll resolve our issues. My getting a place may give us the space that we need to build a bridge and redefine the relationship we lost a long time ago.

Taken from Issue 19