No go areas

 Earlier this week, not for the first time, an MP said that there are "no-go areas" in Birmingham. He was, rightly, quickly condemned for the implicit racism in his comments.

But, coupled with another conversation I happened to have around the same time as my twitter feed was filled with that, I did start thinking a little more deeply.

I may not use the same language of "no go areas" but I am often having conversations with people about how we can open up access to spaces which can feel off-limits. I freely acknowledge there are spaces in Birmingham from which certain groups feel excluded. They are not the same places that Paul Scully is referring to, but for a lot of those I work with, there are all sorts of places which I can walk into and resources I can access that they almost certainly wouldn't. Places where work needs to be done if we are to reduce or remove the barriers which stop people crossing the thresholds. Some of those barriers are practical and financial, but there is more to it than that. It is about places where different people aren't sure whether they will feel safe, or feel welcome, where they don't know whether they really belong. A line which has always stuck with me since I first heard it (and I can't accredit because I don't know whose quote it is originally is: "You might say your door is open, but what does your door look like?" If we are truly going to build a city with no "no go areas" we need to look at our doors.

The Stories group have been made incredibly welcome by the REP Theatre in Birmingham who were relatively recently awarded Theatre of Sanctuary status. At the award giving, one of the Stories group participants spoke about her experience of how this was a place she never felt 'someone like her' would be welcome, that she would never have dared to walk through those somewhat imposing doors, but where she now felt welcomed and included. For her, this once "no go area" has become a place where she feels part of its story, but I am not naive: I know there are all sorts of cultural institutions and other spaces where she (and others like her) don't feel they belong. 

When I was a newly qualified teacher (Dewsbury, not Birmingham, but the point still stands) I remember having a conversation with a very bright seven year old and mentioning university. I still remember the jolt it gave me when he told me that university wasn't for people like him. Higher education was, at least at that point, a "no go area" for him. I don't know the rest of the story, but whether or not he chose to study at university, I hope that conversations and experiences in the interim taught him it was at least an option. 

If Paul Scully feels the same about certain parts of this city, that's very sad. I have far less sympathy for him: I think those of us with power and privilege bear more of the responsibility for making our own way out of our comfort zones, and the energy we put into removing barriers needs to focus on the most excluded and most vulnerable; but perhaps, being charitable, the same principle applies. 

It isn't the only piece in the jigsaw of how we create accessible spaces, but by far the most successful way I have found of helping people cross boundaries into "no go areas" is to go there with them. To hold their hand, literally or metaphorically, as we walk through doors they thought were closed to them. 

If somewhere feels scary or off-limits, the solution isn't just condemnation, or even just telling someone they can cross that boundary: it is to take people by the hand and enable them to walk across the street, across the postcode boundary, through the door, over the threshold. 

On the other side, they might just find they were welcome and safe after all.