🔗 Share this article

As a a teenager growing up during an age marked by conflict, dishonesty, prejudice, racial bias, sexism. But no one appear outraged about it. Many view the slight advances in social equality as solutions to societal problems entirely and it just isn’t enough.”

Back in March 2015, and I’ve done it I’ve solved inequality. Present in a lower-level space of Modern Art Oxford during a local round in a public speaking contest, I truly believe that I may have had presented this room full with adults and educators to the concept regarding gender equality. I felt proud with myself.

The Competition

This speaking award is a competition for post-GCSE students, between 16 and 19, who are given 10 minutes to present about an artwork they select. I was told regarding this from the leader of my college, whose office I had ended up in just weeks before the event. As a pupil, I performed well but chatty and easily distracted. I felt everything acutely often becoming emotional and upset.

My approach was a binary perspective on my education: excel completely or don’t bother. In the office, we talked about my decision to drop a history course within weeks of starting thinking it impossible it would be possible completing it with an A. Life isn’t about extremes,” he urged.

A Chance

Supported by my patient art instructor, the director of the college saw that Articulation was exactly the opportunity that I needed – after all I loved art AS-level, and proved gobby as part the institution’s informal debate club. He suggested I prepare something for a preliminary school-level round. Recalling now, it seems anyone else applied.

Choosing Art

My presentation focused on the artist’s pharmacy installations, viewed previously during an exhibit in London (a related print is still stuck on the wall near my workspace). I’d seen his creations for the first time as a child visiting Ilfracombe, the north Devon town where my grandmother was raised, and where Hirst operated an eatery, the Quay, full of formaldehyde-imprisoned fish, and wallpaper covered in pills. I loved that his work was funny and contrarian, that he successfully calling whatever as artistic. It amused me my relative disapproved. But maybe most of all, I enjoyed that, since the artwork installations were named song names from a punk record, I could say “Sex” (Pistols) several times during the talk. I felt like the most radical teen mind among my peers.

The Outcome

At the regional heat, nine other other speakers, each presenting had better cultural context, offered less unsupported, broad claims, and said “bollocks” less. I received third place. For a teen who tied most self-esteem to success, this would usually have been a crushing blow. Yet then, the fact that appreciated my talk, and had laughed exactly when I intended, felt enough.

A New Path

By the time Articulation invited me to present once more, this time as part of an event at the British Museum, I submitted my application to read art history at university. Before the competition, I had thought I’d choose for English or German, not considering top universities, where I knew I couldn’t become “top ranked”. Yet the experience had emboldened me and made me believe that my views deserved expression, without knowing specialized terms. I no longer required perfection: I just needed to put my spin on things.

Finding Purpose

Discussing creativity – and learning how to make people laugh while I do it – quickly became my north star. This contest experience completed itself upon returning recently to be the first graduate judge of an Articulation heat.

The event built my self-assurance beyond my degree choice: not that I would accomplish major feats, but that I didn’t have to. I stopped requiring flawless results; I needed to lean into my own voice. I transformed from nervous and fragile – emotional yet impatient to frustration – into a person trusting in their capabilities. I didn’t need to be perfect. Initially, being genuine outweighed more to me ideal outcomes.

Gratitude

I remain thankful to the sixth-form head who made the effort to comprehend me during my years as a stubborn, sensitive teenager, rather than simply rolling his eyes (and, looking back, I think an eye roll might have been understandable). Life isn’t is absolute success or failure; I learned that it is often worth trying without requiring guarantees of “winning”.