Recently, we asked a group of young people we support a simple question: what do you wish adults understood about being young today?
Their answers covered many of the subjects we might expect: social media, mental health, education, employment, lockdown, independence, the future.
As I listened, I found myself reflecting on something that has become increasingly prominent across our sector—youth voice.
It seems to be everywhere. Funders ask about it, organisations measure it, strategies are built around it, and reports highlight it. We rightly celebrate examples of young people influencing decisions that affect their lives, for there is much to celebrate.
Young people should be heard. Too often, decisions are made about them without them. Too often, adults assume they understand young people’s experiences without taking the time to ask.
But as I listened, I found myself wondering whether we sometimes mistake youth voice for the thing we are actually trying to achieve; because what came through most strongly was not simply a desire to be heard, but a desire to know that somebody cared.
One young person spoke about the reassurance of knowing someone was there during difficult times. Another described the importance of having somebody alongside them as they navigated challenges. Several spoke about wanting adults to listen, to explain, to trust them, and to believe in them.
What struck me was that they were not simply describing participation; they were describing relationships and they were describing care.
Perhaps this sounds obvious, yet I wonder whether it is something we sometimes overlook.
Our sector is very good at talking about voice, but we’re less comfortable talking about care.
Voice can be measured. Care is harder to quantify.
Voice can be written into a funding application and demonstrated through consultation groups, advisory panels and surveys.
But care is expressed through thousands of small moments that rarely make it into reports. Care is someone remembering your name, someone asking how you are, someone noticing when something isn’t right, and someone choosing to be with you when life becomes difficult.
One of the young people we support said something that has stayed with me: Young people need someone to believe in them and their future.
Not a new programme, or another consultation or questionnaire. A person.
I suspect most of us can identify people who played that role in our own lives. Was it a parent or a teacher? A youth worker or a coach? A mentor or simply just a friend?
When I look back, the people who shaped me most were not necessarily the people who had the most authority or influence. They were the people who communicated something incredibly simple: “You matter.”
People often remember what somebody did for them, but I think they remember even more clearly how somebody made them feel; and perhaps that is why care matters so much.
Long before a young person finds their voice, they need to know their voice is worth hearing.
Long before they influence decisions, they need somebody who believes in them.
Long before they develop confidence, independence, and resilience, they need somebody who cares enough to stand alongside them.
Youth voice matters; of course it does. But perhaps voice is not the destination, just one possible expression of something even more fundamental—care.