Chavs

Here's what I wanted to write on August 20^th: there's no such thing as Chavs. In fact, that was the only line anyone remembers from the first talk I ever did. They were called townies back then, but the idea is the same: teenagers from council estates are all violent, soulless criminals. Council House And Violence. Or at least, all violent teenagers from council estates are just violent teenagers from council estates. Like they're not human the way we are.

So in August I got to help run a 'get on top of life' course for 16-18 year olds not in education, employment or training (i.e. nowhere). I started badly.

If you throw a bunch of teenagers who've never met before into a room together, you'll get some interesting results. They're desperate for the others to accept them; they're terrified they're going to become the runt of the litter. They might be the alpha female somewhere else, but that counts for nothing here. Everyone will probably think they're desperately uncool and ignore them from now until the end of the course. That's a fate worse than death.

So when they show up, day one, does anyone speak? Not on your life. One misjudged comment could shame them forever. And the longer the silence goes on, the more scared we get. The harder it is to break. Half these kids haven't been out of the house all week. And there's still five thick minutes before anything's going to start.

Over the room from me are two Connexions advisors. I discover from the girl next to me that one helped her get here. 'Great', I say. Silence. 4 minutes 45 seconds to go. Everyone stares somewhere they won't accidentally make eye contact. I turn to the girl again. 'Is she any good at her job?'

Ha ha ha. It seems I haven't learnt so much after all.

In fact, writing this, I realise how much we're still dragging round the world with teenage glasses on. I hear friends say, 'we need to show people that Christians are cool.' Really? I sit down at a conference planning meeting and worry how I'm going to show all these professionals I know what I'm talking about. At the end, I found out two of them are student volunteers – less 'professional' than me. My friend emailed me today she wonders when she's going to start feeling like a grown up. 'I'm 24, and I'm still waiting for life to begin.' Talking to Mum and Dad, it sounds like this feeling never goes away – you never feel any older, just start noticing how young your doctor is, or the England captain.

I kind of like the fact that for the first few seconds after waking up, I don't know how old I am. I'm just me. Actually, that's how I feel when I'm spending time with Jesus. Maybe that's how I'll feel with him forever in a new heaven and a new earth.

As the day went on, I got chatting with the young people; and I got less and less scared of them. Alex with the headphones became Alex listening to the Man in the Mirror. Jo the sarcastic northerner became Jo who drinks three cans of strawberry kick and giggles all afternoon. Sullen Karla became Karla who just lost a child. Wayne who's just come out of prison became Wayne who wanted walking to the Bus stop because he got beaten up there last time. Dan with the motor bike became Dan who struggled with school, can't get a mechanic's apprenticeship 'til he's 18, can't get a job at all; and Dan who ran round the block with me in 2 minutes before our session started again.

They were still sullen, didn't listen and impossible to control. They still smoked and swore and bragged about getting into fights last night. They still wore tracksuits and lived in "forn-'ill". They were still all the things we mock and fear them for. But I wasn't afraid of them anymore. I just felt pity.

I guess what I want to write is that you don't need to be afraid of chavs. Maybe if you stop being afraid of them, like me, you'll be able to realise you're actually the one holding all the cards. You're the one with the chance of a decent job, hobbies, safety from crime (most victims of crime live in the same area as the criminals). You're the one who can afford to travel the world, and still go out for Sunday lunch every week. You don't need to look behind you as you walk for fear of being jumped by a rival gang. You can answer your phone, because no one's threatening you with seven kinds of murder if you don't get them their drug money. You've never had to go to prison or decide if you should have an abortion.

I don't believe I would make better choices than anyone else if I was born in their shoes. I've done nothing to deserve the prosperous life I enjoy. It's a gift from my secret admirer. I cannot understand why he loves me so much.

I want to say that you don't need to worry about not being grown up, everything sewn up. I think you'd never do it if you tried. So maybe we were made to let someone else look after things for us, and to enjoy it like a child. And I want to say, 'put aside childish ways' – don't live in fear anymore, and so keep all your toys to yourself. I think you can understand that's not a contradiction. You can keep using the word 'chav' if you like. But I hope you can make some your friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbzMsIcp6fI