Why safer spaces matter for young people’s physical activity

Posted by Caroline Dodd-Reynolds, Professor of Physical Activity, Durham University

Fuse Associate Professor Caroline Dodd-Reynolds explores what can be done to create environments in which LGBTQ+ young people feel safe to enjoy physical activity. Fuse blog in Pride Month.

This work forms part of the Joyful and Safe Physical Activity (JASPA) project, funded by the National Institute for Health and Care Research (NIHR). This project, and the funding that supports it, are only possible through Fuse, the Centre for Translational Research in Public Health, and its membership of the NIHR School for Public Health Research (SPHR).

The 2026 Commonwealth Games come to Scotland this summer, showcasing elite athletes at the top of their game. But for most of us, physical activity looks much more ordinary: walking to school, joining a PE lesson, dancing in the kitchen or going to the gym.

Now think about how that kind of movement feels. Easy? Enjoyable? Safe?

For many LGBTQ+ young people living in disadvantaged areas, the answer to those questions is no.

In our creative joyful and safe physical activity project, young people aged 14-21 showed us how adults can make physical activity feel more fun, safe and inclusive. They did this by reimagining what it means to be active, and by bringing colour, creativity and vibrancy into traditional sport and exercise spaces.

Around 80% of adolescents globally do not do enough physical activity, and global physical inactivity has remained largely unchanged for the past two decades. This affects growth, development, mental health and physical health. We also know that some young people face greater barriers than others, including those living in poorer areas, disabled and neurodivergent young people, and those with questions around their gender or sexuality.

Every child and young person should be able to take part in movement and physical activity without feeling disengaged, excluded or unsafe. Physical activity can, and should, bring joy. But this is not only about competitive sport, PE or joining a gym. Movement can also mean walking, dancing, playing active games, skating in the park, or simply feeling able to move through a space without fear.

In our earlier research, young people often knew exactly where they could be active: outdoors, at school or college, or in a local leisure centre if one was available. But knowing where to go was not the same as feeling able to take part. They described feeling harassed, worried, unsafe or excluded from physical activity.

We call this “physical activity insecurity”: when a young person’s ability to be active is limited because a space feels uncomfortable, exposing or unsafe. This can be especially acute for young people whose experiences of poverty, disability, neurodiversity, gender or sexuality overlap. Some transgender and non-binary young people in our research described harassment, exclusion and gender discrimination that made ordinary movement feel difficult or risky.

We worked with young people to explore what safer, more joyful physical activity spaces could look like.

Creating inclusive spaces

So what can adults, schools, youth workers, leisure centres and other community organisations do?

First, the language we use matters. Terms such as sport, gym or exercise can be immediately off-putting for some young people, especially if they already associate these words with embarrassment, exclusion or previous bad experiences.

Thinking about physical activity more holistically and using the term “movement” instead can help. Physical activity can be something as simple as walking.

Second, adults need to have honest conversations with young people about how they relate to physical activity. This might include talking about stereotypes around sport, PE or exercise, and how these make young people feel. It might also mean recognising that some young people have many other pressures in their lives, making physical activity feel like one more difficult or exposing thing.

Young people are most likely to engage with someone they already know and trust, in a calm and welcoming space. From there, adults can help reimagine physical activity as movement that might be enjoyable, informal and part of everyday life. This could mean dancing in the kitchen, roller-skating in the park, going for a walk, or simply feeling able to enter a room without bracing for judgement. More traditional sporting examples may work too, but they should not be the only starting point.

Third, adults can ask what might help organised and formal physical activity spaces feel more like the spaces young people imagine for themselves. That means listening to young people’s ideas, being open to challenge and rethinking what counts as a good physical activity space. For example, a good space may not be the one with the best equipment. It may be the one where young people can choose whether to join in, wear clothes they feel comfortable in, see signs that they are welcome, and leave for a quieter area if they need to.

Welcoming and safe

On a practical level, most physical activity spaces, whether indoor or outdoor, can be made to feel more inclusive and safe. Small changes can make a big difference. These might include using more vibrant colours, displaying friendly messages and avoiding long lists of rules and instructions.

It can also help to make participation optional rather than compulsory, provide a quiet space where young people can step away when needed, and reconsider clothing rules, which can be a major barrier for some.

The point is not to make every young person love sport. It is to ask why some spaces make movement feel exposing, difficult or risky. If adults want young people to be more active, the first step is not another rule, target or campaign. It is creating places where they do not have to brace themselves before joining in.

Find out more

• Access practical guidance for adults working with children and young people disengaged from physical activity.
• Find out more about this work, including a Moving Spaces 'zine' co-produced with young people.

Adapted with thanks to The Conversation

Media representations of disabled people

Posted by Laura Navin, Health and Social Care student, Northumbria University

Picture by Laura Navin

Negative media representations of disabled people still exist in society and this needs to be addressed. I have dyspraxia which is a learning difficulty, and I sometimes struggle with my co-ordination, communication, processing and speed but it has not stopped me from achieving my goals!

In the media, disability tends to be portrayed through a medical or deficit model, with disabled people often treated as pathetic.^1,2,3 TV charity shows such as Children in Need encourage pity for disabled people² and people with disabilities are still seen as “the heavy burden of care”; “the helpless victim”.³ Yet even when well-meaning, encouraging pity is discriminatory as it creates stereotypical and negative assumptions about disabled people². These negative representations can decrease a disabled person’s self-esteem and make them feel like they are not part of society.^1,4

The issue is heightened by the absence of disabled people and their voices within mainstream media which might help to reclaim the narrative and counter negative stereotypes. As Caroline Casey, founder of The Valuable 500, a global movement putting disability on the business leadership agenda, has suggested “from daytime TV to adverts on social media, to the articles which publications run, representation and visibility of persons with disabilities simply does not reflect our society”. This was brought to light recently for example, when Sia’s decision to cast a neurotypical actress in the role of an autistic female protagonist in her upcoming film was widely criticised.

There are more positive portrayals of disability in the media however. Harry Potter star, Daniel Radcliffe has dyspraxia and acted as an inspiration to many when saying, “do not let it stop you. It has never held me back.”. In 2018, Lee Ridley from the North East won Britain’s Got Talent and in 2021, EastEnders star Rose Ayling-Ellis became the first deaf contestant on Strictly Come Dancing. Even these more positive representations are emblematic of the failure to represent disabled people as everyday, ordinary citizens however. As Lee Ridley claims, “Our government has a very weird relationship with disabled people. We are either seen as superhuman or as some sort of burden”.

Portrayals of disabled people as a burden on society have been shown throughout both austerity and the Coronavirus pandemic. Disabled people have been mocked as ‘scroungers’ in television shows and newspapers, with arguments that incapacity benefit had become a ‘lifestyle choice’ for the lazy, and that a disability benefit crisis was responsible for the UK economic crash resulting in the disproportionate targeting of disabled people within austerity measures.^5,6 Covid has been argued to be one of the biggest media outbreaks medicalising disabled people.^1,7 During the pandemic, disabled people were seen as ‘vulnerable’ and had to isolate from society.^5,8 ‘Vulnerable’ is a label that is often rejected by people with disabilities and its adoption does not portray the importance of disabled people’s rights and viewpoints.⁹ Labels such as ‘vulnerable’ or ‘immunocompromised’ when used to explain differential susceptibility to illness have also been argued to result in an unreasonable, unpleasant message about the value of disabled people’s lives. The sunflower lanyard which could be worn by disabled people to show they were exempt from wearing face masks helped in some ways to increase disability awareness and create more understanding, support and respect towards disabled people. However, this is another form of labelling, and not all disabled people want to identify their disability to the world. Greater understanding and training on disability ethics is urgently needed to avoid this sort of discrimination and support disabled rights more systemically.^9,10

 

It is also important that disabled voices are heard in society and that the media represents disabled people in a more positive light. Sometimes when I tell people about my dyspraxia they feel pity for me, but this is not what I want. I am telling my story to inspire others, not create sympathy, so please do not feel sad for me, feel happy for me! I have succeeded in my academic studies and graduated from university with second-class honours as a student with dyspraxia. I have been involved in podcasts and dissertation writing to raise my voice as a disabled person and in doing so I hope to give others the confidence to do the same. I am now studying for a postgraduate certificate in education (PGCE) to teach health and social care. I hope to continue to raise my voice and to inspire others.

Part of our Fuse blog Student Series

The Fuse blog Student Series showcases posts by students who have been challenged to write a blog as part of their studies at one of the universities in the Fuse collaboration, the NIHR School for Public Health Research, or perhaps further afield. The authors may be new to blogging and we hope to provide a 'safe space' for the students to explore their subject and find their voice in the world of public health research.

The views and opinions expressed by the author are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Northumbria University or Fuse, the Centre for Translational Research in Public Health.

References

1) Cameron, C. (2014) Disability Studies: A student’s guide. London: SAGE Publications Ltd.

2) Barnes, C. (1992) Disabling imagery and the media: an exploration of the principles for media representations of disabled people. Halifax, England: The British Council of Organisations and Disabled People and Ryburn Publishing Limited.

3) Goethals, T. et al. (2020) ‘I am not your metaphor: frames and counter-frames in the representation of disability’, Disability & Society, 12 (1), pp.1-19. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1080/09687599.2020.1836478.

4) Casey, C. (2020) ‘Where all the disabled people on screen? We must increase representation or risk reinforcing damaging stereotypes’, Independent, 1 December. Available at: Where are all the disabled people on screen? We must increase representation or risk reinforcing damaging stereotypes | The Independent (Accessed: 22 March 2022).

5) Ryan, F. (2019) Crippled: austerity and the demonization of disabled people. London: Verso.

6) Briant, E. et al. (2013) ‘Reporting disability in the age of austerity: the changing face of media representation of disability and disabled people in the United Kingdom and the creation of new ‘folk devils’, Disability & Society, 28 (6), pp.874-889. DOI: 10.1080/09687599.2013.813837.

7) Shakespeare, T. et al. (2021) ‘Triple jeopardy: disabled people and the COVID-19 pandemic’, The Lancet, 397(10282), pp.1331-1333. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1016/S0140-6736(21)00625-5.

8) Courtenay, K. and Perera, B. (2020) ‘COVID-19 and people with intellectual disability: impacts of a pandemic’, Irish Journal of Psychological Medicine, 37, pp.231-236. DOI: 10.1017/ipm.2020.45.

9) Singh, S. (2020) ‘Disability ethics in the coronavirus crisis’, Journal of Family Medicine and Primary Care, 9 (5), pp.2167-2171. DOI: 10.4103/jfmpc.jfmpc_588_20.

10) McLean, S. and Williamson, L. (2007) Impairment and disability: Law and ethics at the beginning and end of life. Oxon: Routledge-Cavendish.

Scaling the mini Matterhorn - risk and adventure with a disability

Posted by Llinos Jehu, Research Associate with AskFuse, Teesside University

Llinos introducing the blog and speaking about her experience of epilepsy

Happy ‘International Day of Persons with Disabilities’! That day set aside by the United Nations to ‘promote the rights and well-being of persons with disabilities in all spheres of society’.

There’s a lot to be happy about. When I was diagnosed with epilepsy in the 1970’s, the world was a very different place. I got used to being treated as a fire and safety hazard (so not allowed into some buildings or events), a risk (so refused insurance), and a liability (excluded from school trips ‘just in case’). Given all the gloom and doom, it’s amazing that I turned out to be such a boringly average sort of person, never knowingly causing anything to spontaneously combust.

Roseberry Topping has been compared to the Matterhorn in the Swiss-Italian Alps

And generally I am happy living as someone with epilepsy, identifying as a disabled person. But then I attend something like the launch of the NIHR Applied Research Collaboration (ARC) in North East & North Cumbria, and get told that I’m going to die 10 years before everyone else. OK, they didn’t actually say that, they didn’t necessarily mean me. But people living with a disability or long term condition are at risk of premature mortality, and that risk isn’t always linked with their condition. For me, good epilepsy management is dependent on taking medication like clockwork. Seizures don’t stop me from taking my medication, but having to remember to order a repeat prescription just might: not more than 10 working days before I run out, but not less than 8 working days as it takes time to process. Good epilepsy management requires a good standard of physical and mental health: managing the weight-gain that the medication can cause, managing stress and anxiety, getting a good night’s sleep. Most people want to achieve some of the things on that list. Epilepsy doesn’t stop me from travelling with my job or going out to see friends; that’s caused by poor public transport. Unless I actually drop down with a seizure (and there’s no reason that I should), epilepsy won’t stop me from doing a 16 mile hike across the Moors. Barriers are more likely to be caused by people asking me, ‘Are you sure you should? Is it safe? Is it wise?’.

Speaking to Steph Kilinc about her research on the experiences of people living with adult-onset epilepsy

So what would make me happy, and possibly live a bit longer? Good, accessible, affordable public transport for starters. And a text from my pharmacist to say that my meds are ready to collect – after all, they know I’m a responsible person who takes them as instructed. They also know I’m not the sort of person who will stock-pile meds to sell on the internet or feed to my goldfish! The text wouldn’t just make sure I had the meds to take, it would make an enormous contribution to reducing levels of stress and anxiety. It would make me feel that I was viewed as an adult with a range of competing demands on my attention, rather than an old child with nothing else to think about.

Phil and Llinos on how technology helps them to navigate both walks and public transport

What already makes me happy is that I’ve had a life filled with friends who’ve supported and encouraged me. They’ve helped to keep the stress and anxiety levels down, to get the good night’s sleep, to manage the risks and have the adventures. There’s still lots to be unhappy about. Sometimes I’m really, really angry. Hate crime targetting disabled people, increasing levels of inequality: sometimes there can seem little to celebrate. But for this year’s event I’ve walked up Roseberry Topping on a glorious day, accompanied by two great friends: Phil Jeffries who’s a very experienced walker and happens to be partially sighted, and Steph Kilinc, a member of Teesside University’s Behaviour, Health and Resilience Research Group who happens to be a somewhat less experienced walker. We’ve compared Steph’s research findings with our own experiences of living with a disability. Phil’s shown how technology can help someone with a visual impairment to read maps (actually how to interpret maps, he was good at orienteering before his sight loss and there’s only so much technology can achieve). Together we’ve managed to navigate the public transport system and arrived at the same place and at the same time. I’m not stressed, I’m not anxious, I’ll take my meds and have a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave being angry until tomorrow, when I might follow up on those ARC presentations and find out what’s to be done to address that premature mortality risk.

References:

• Stephanie Kılınç a,. The experience of living with adult-onset epilepsy, Kilinc S, van Wersch A, Campbell C, Guy A, Epilepsy & Behvious 73 (2017) 189-196

• Thomas R & Barnes M, 2010, Life expectancy for people with disabilities NEUROREHABILITATION Volume: 27 Issue: 2 Pages: 201-209

• Epilepsy Action: https://www.epilepsy.org.uk

• Epilepsy Research UK: https://www.epilepsyresearch.org.uk/

• NHS: https://www.nhs.uk/news/neurology/people-with-epilepsy-have-higher-risk-of-early-death/

Looking for trouble: deceit and duplicity in the Troubled Families Programme

Introduced by Peter van der Graaf

Guest post by Stephen Crossley, Senior Lecturer in Social Policy at Northumbria University

Many families facing health problems, limiting illnesses, or with disabled family members have been labelled as ‘troubled families’ under the government’s Troubled Families Programme. Originally established following the 2011 riots to ‘turn around’ the lives of 120,000 allegedly anti-social and criminal families, the programme is now in its second phase and is working with a far larger group of families, many of whom experience troubles, but don’t necessarily cause trouble. In April of this year, the focus of the programme shifted again in an attempt to improve the number of so-called ‘troubled families’ who moved back into employment, despite the majority of them being in work and many of the remainder not being expected to be looking or available for work.

The programme has been dogged by controversy from day one. Research about families experiencing multiple disadvantages was misrepresented at the launch of the programme to provide ‘evidence’ that there were 120,000 troublesome families in England. The government has since been accused of suppressing the official evaluation of the first phase of the programme after it found ‘no discernible impact’ of the programme and also of ‘over-claiming’ the 99% success rate of the first phase. 

David Cameron with Louise Casey, former Director General of Troubled Families

Many health workers will be involved with the delivery of the Troubled Families Programme in their day-to-day work, although there is also a good chance that they will not be aware of it. Many local authorities do not refer to their local work as ‘troubled families’ because of the stigmatising rhetoric and imagery associated with it. Many families are not aware that they have been labelled as ‘troubled families’ for the same reason, and because it would undoubtedly hinder engagement with the programme. They are not always made aware that the data that is collected on them as part of the programme, is shared with other local agencies and, in an anonymised format, with central government.

My PhD research, conducted in three different local authority areas, found that the programme was based on, and relied upon duplicity from design to implementation. Despite government narratives about the programme attempting to ‘turn around’ the lives of ‘troubled families’, the programme appeared to be more concerned with helping to restructure what support to disadvantaged families looks like, and reducing the cost of such families to the state.

For example, support – both symbolic and financial - for universal services, such as libraries, children’s centres and youth projects, is reducing. Direct financial support to marginalised groups is also being cut, with welfare reforms hitting many of the most disadvantaged groups hardest. These forms of support, and many other more specialist services, are being replaced, rhetorically at least, by an intensive form of ‘family intervention’ which allegedly sees a single key worker capable of working with all members of the family, able to ‘turn around’ their lives no matter what problems, health-related or otherwise, they may be facing or causing.

The simplistic central government narrative of the almost perfect implementation of the Troubled Families Programme was not to be found ‘on the ground’, where there were multiple frustrations and concerns about the depiction of the families and the programme, and numerous departures from the official version of events. Despite the rhetoric of ‘turning around’ the lives of ‘troubled families’, in the face of cuts in support and benefits to families, my PhD thesis concluded that the Troubled Families Programme does little more than intervene to help struggling families to cope with their poverty better, despite the efforts of local practitioners.

Put simply, the programme does not attempt to address the structural issues that cause many of the problems faced by ‘troubled families’, but instead encourages them to ‘learn to be poor’. In my previous Fuse blog, I drew on the concept of ‘lifestyle drift’ advanced by David Hunter and Jenny Popay: where the focus of interventions drifts towards attempting to change individual behaviour, despite the wealth of evidence pointing to other solutions. There is no room in the narrative for wider determinants of people’s circumstances. Because of this, the government’s Troubled Families Programme will do little to turn around the lives and health of the families it claims to help.


A summary of Stephen Crossley’s PhD research can be found here. His first book In Their Place: The Imagined Geographies of Poverty is out now with Pluto Press. He tweets at @akindoftrouble


Photograph ‘Almost 40,000 troubled families helped’ (14087270645_3453006d12_c) by ‘Number 10’ via Flickr.com, copyright © 2014: https://www.flickr.com/photos/number10gov/14087270645