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“I am young person growing up during an age with war, dishonesty, prejudice, racism, sexism. Yet few seems angry about it. People see the slight advances towards equal society as solutions to societal problems entirely though that falls short.”

Back in March 2015, and I’ve done it I had cracked inequality. Present in the basement room at an Oxford art venue for my regional heat in a public speaking contest, I truly believe that perhaps I just introduced the audience of parents and teachers to the idea of feminism. I felt proud with myself.

The Contest

This speaking award is a competition for post-GCSE students, between 16 and 19, who are given a brief period to deliver on a work of art of their choice. I learned about it by my head of sixth form, whose office I frequently visited shortly prior to the competition. During school, I performed well but chatty and easily distracted. Emotions hit me acutely often becoming emotional and upset.

I also took an all-or-nothing approach to my education: either be the best or quit entirely. During our meeting, we discussed my choice to abandon a history course within weeks of starting because I didn’t think to achieve for me to finish with an A. Life isn’t about extremes,” he urged.

An Opportunity

Along with my patient art teacher, the head of the college recognised that Articulation was exactly the opportunity I required – after all I enjoyed art studies, and proved gobby as part of the school’s rag-tag discussion group. He suggested I develop a talk for an initial in-school heat. From memory, I don’t think anyone else applied.

Choosing Art

My presentation focused on the artist’s pharmacy installations, which I had seen during an exhibit at Tate Modern (a related print remains posted on my wall near my workspace). I encountered Hirst’s work initially as a child visiting Ilfracombe, the north Devon town my elder relative was raised, and where the artist had a restaurant, the Quay, featuring preserved fish, and wallpaper with tablet designs. I appreciated the art seemed funny and contrarian, that he successfully calling whatever he wanted “art”. I loved that my grandmother hated it. Above all, I loved that, since the artwork installations were named after tracks on their 1977 album, I was going to say “The word” (Band name) repeatedly during the talk. I truly was the most radical young thinker among my peers.

The Outcome

During the local round, nine other other speakers, all of whom more refined cultural context, made fewer unsupported, sweeping statements, and said “bollocks” rarely. I received third place. For a teen who tied most self-esteem on achievement, typically this meant a devastating outcome. Yet then, that people appreciated my talk, and had laughed precisely where I had wanted, felt enough.

Fresh Directions

When Articulation invited me to present once more, now during an event in London, I submitted my paperwork to read art history at Oxford. Prior to this, I had thought I was going to apply literature or languages, not considering at Oxbridge, believing there I would never be “top ranked”. But the competition boosted my courage and made me believe that my opinions were worth sharing, even when I didn’t speak the lingo. I no longer required to be the best: I just needed to put my spin to topics.

Discovering Passion

Discussing creativity – and finding ways to entertain audiences during presentations – soon turned into my north star. My Articulation journey came full circle upon returning this spring to be the first alumni evaluator for a competition round.

The competition built my self-assurance beyond my degree choice: not that I could achieve great things, but that I needn’t. I no longer needed flawless results; I needed to lean into my own voice. I went from being anxious and easily overcome – passionate but quick to frustration – to someone who believed their own abilities. I didn’t need to be perfect. Initially, authenticity meant importance over than flawlessness.

Gratitude

I’ll always be grateful to the college leader who took time to understand me during my years as a stubborn, sensitive young adult, instead of dismissing me (in retrospect, I think an eye roll would have been entirely justified). Life isn’t is death or glory; I learned that it is often worth trying even without the promise of “winning”.