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The image shows a wooden desk with a series of writing implements, a green typewriter at the top centre surrounded by a book, pinecone and glasses to the left, an open notebook, a pencil and an eraser to the left.

Writing through it

I have never been very good at treating anything like ‘just a job’. I tend to get swept up into the excitement and meaning of everything I do. Starting a new endeavour like this, building a research firm from scratch, brings that sense of excitement and meaning to new levels. Rather than seeing this as a hindrance, I’m trying to ride the wave and learn from it as much as possible.  

I knew I would want to keep a record of this process, to map the ways in which I travelled through the different projects, clients and relationships I would encounter on the way. But when I thought about what that might look like, it seemed appropriate to share those musings with those who may want to work with me. More than just a progress log, I consider it a kind of transparency, or open source working practice. I’ve always felt so grateful to be in spaces where ideas were shared, and I am a person who learns most through discussion and collaboration. I hope that this process gives you some insight into what it means to work with Root.

If anything sparks your interest or curiosity, or you think you have something worth sharing, I hope you’ll take the time to get in touch.  

Making the political personal

The magic of casual discussion as a starting point

I had an opportunity recently to have a discussion with someone that has sparked a flurry of exploration of how I approach policy and process work. I was invited to what I assumed would be a typical meeting. I prepared a pitch - considering how what I have done before is relevant to their needs, and how I can help move their problem forward to a solution. When I arrived, I was caught slightly off guard in the best possible way. This person was not here for a meeting, but rather an organic conversation. They just wanted to see what happened and what could come out of it. Suddenly I was immersed in a genuine dialogue between two people who shared a lot of interests and passions. I found myself becoming very relaxed and comfortable, and in doing so I was allowed to be much more myself. As the conversation progressed, I reflected aloud on the way I approach problems and the way I think about things in the world. I shared personal experiences and anecdotes as part of musings on complex, vast social problems. While I immensely enjoyed the conversation, after I left and started to think back on the meeting, I began to feel a little mortified. 
 I came away worrying I had trivialised some of the issues by making the conversation individualised and focusing it so much on personal stories. Had I demonstrated to him my understanding of the bigger picture, the connectedness of these problems on a larger scale? This worry is ironic, as core to the way I see the world is seeing the relationships between everything and everyone. For better or for worse, I see the influence of institutions and social norms across most of my day-to-day interactions, and approach problems with that in mind. We can't think about the way that we value the labour that somebody does without thinking about the system by which we pay that person for their labour. We can't think about our personal relationships to what we call 'professional' without understanding the schools, workplaces and families which all shaped our idea of what it means to be, sound, and look 'professional.' Because these things are all connected, they need to be embedded in the way think about problems and solutions. Connections between people and systems, structures and institutions, connections between individuals and groups - these concepts can't be neglected when we consider any social change on a micro or macro level.  So why, then, when allowed to go off script, did I wander so far into the personal? 

By starting with compassion and curiosity, I centre the lived experience of a wide variety of individuals and groups in my problem solving

Given time to reflect, I realised that I delved into the personal, because that is how I understand the systems. I understand an institution by the experience of an individual interacting with it. And call it self-absorption, call it the cheapest of heuristics - the easiest way to begin that thinking is to start with my own experience. Take, for example, my status as an immigrant. I arrived in Northern Ireland speaking the language, in a relationship with a person from here, with qualifications that are largely recognised and accepted in the local workforce. My cultural practices and norms may vary slightly, but are significantly overlapping with those in Belfast. In short, I am an extremely privileged immigrant. Because of those privileges, the experience of being an immigrant here, with my networks and my economic resources and my social capital, is much easier than it is for many others. But in the process of reflecting on my own experience of the immigration system, I was able to notice the level of privacy invasio that comes with being asked to regularly hand over myriad personal details, of the administrative burden of keeping all of the documents that I need for years and years at a time, of having to show evidence of the validity of my personal relationships, the constant underlying stress of worrying if something will go wrong, if my application will be rejected, if the life I built will suddenly no longer be available to me. And when I reflect on those experiences, it is inevitable that I approach the problem with compassion and curiosity. That is not to say I will understand it - it is an exercise in fantasy to think you can truly put yourself in someone else's shoes. But in reflecting on my own experience and starting with compassion and curiosity, I naturally centre the lived experience of different individuals and groups with institutions. By making it personal first, I can understand all of the ways that the web of social, structural, economic factors can tangle up to form a social problem. A note of caution here, because done halfway, there is a danger in this approach - especially with those of us who come from a position of real privilege. If the reflection stops there, instead of becoming a bridge, it becomes a barrier, a wall that goes up saying 'this was my experience, why can't you do it/see it this way too?' We must try to understand then how systems affect different people, and that understanding has to start with those groups and individuals, giving them the space and resources to amplify their voices.  

By making it personal first, I begin to see the ways that the web of social, economic and social factors weave together to form a social problem - and its potential solutions.

Placing this now into much wider context, I am thinking of that old feminist adage 'the personal is political'. Making something personal in the private sphere and taking it into the public/political sphere is how we began to think about criminalising intimate partner violence, it's how we began to think about giving rights to children in their homes and schools. It is so much more than a quick, pithy statement. It is the truth. And it is how I have always lived policy work. This has been a really important realisation for me, and it's one that I want to spend more time actively reflecting on. 
I am so grateful to the person who gave me the space to make this discovery about my practice, and for the magic than can emerge when we let ourselves just have the conversations.