JOT

Jot’s return took place on a wintery evening in February, amassing a group of people from across Scotland who listened intently to stories of struggle and success within a variety of industries – from PR and technology, to digital marketing and education. The title of the event was Imposter! – it aimed to shine a light on the journeys of five speakers who made their way from working class backgrounds into stereotypically middle-class roles.

Our five speakers wove together a tapestry of experiences and anecdotes that showcased how they’d been required to adapt, grow and shape their careers from a starting line that many of their peers didn’t need to consider or conceive of. They explored internal and external pressures, navigating the socio-economic barriers within education and the working world, and the anxiety of being “found out” by the people around them along the way.

The nasty voice in your head.

Nana spoke of his experience as a second-generation immigrant who battled imposter syndrome, and the nagging voice in his head that told him he would never be accepted because of his ethnicity. He narrated his journey with this voice, how he’d evolved to associate discomfort with growth, and how he’d learnt to simply ask his peers and colleagues – what do you mean?

Decoding language.

Having the confidence to call out exclusionary and coded language was a theme that emerged through multiple speakers. Claire highlighted language that’s built to keep working class people “out”, whether accidentally or specifically designed to make others feel stupid. She talked of her experience navigating this language throughout her time at University and on to her role as a journalist, and now owner of a PR firm. Alanna spoke of reinventing herself, changing her accent, and trying to match the aggressive tone of the rooms she found herself in with male, middle-class colleagues. And Karri highlighted her sudden realisation that saying a student would be “tore a new arsehole” by an external examiner wouldn’t quite land in a conversation with a fellow senior psychology lecturer in Edinburgh – especially if he's from Germany.

Changing behaviour.

Our speakers described the behaviours they’d adopted to avoid being “found out”. Drink your morning Irn-Bru from a mug (pretend it’s coffee). Get into debt by changing your wardrobe (men respect a woman who looks like Joan from Mad Men). Make friends with the white boy from Bearsden (he’ll be a great insurance policy). Shout the loudest. Pretend you’re from Nottingham. Admit you’re not from Nottingham. Act like you find rugby really interesting. Always have the answer. Always be grateful for a promotion that doesn’t come with a pay rise. Be grateful "someone like you" has a job at all.

What became clear following these anecdotes is that our speakers actually found their confidence, resilience and success by embracing their values, and who they are as people. They discovered that what they do and say carries weight because of their journey and experience in life – not despite it. This led them back to a version of themselves that feels authentic, and allowed them to start showing the imposter-voice in their head the door.

Karri now drinks her wine out of a wine glass (when she's off the Irn Bru)

Sickness, poverty and girl-bossing.

Sarah’s talk highlighted the intersection of chronic illness, poverty and work by driving home a hard truth – that while many agencies in the creative industry virtue signal via inclusion and diversity policies, they’re rarely able to make basic adjustments for those who need them. She described how this lack of reasonable accommodation in workplaces meant that she was made to feel “difficult”, and discriminated against regularly throughout her career. Crucially, Sarah’s talk emphasised the fact that this type of discrimination doesn’t just mean that the 1 in 5 disabled people in Scotland miss out on opportunities – it means that sectors and industries are missing out on the expertise, talent and knowledge that an entire subset of the population has to offer.

For people who write (usually).

As the evening wore on, Jot began to lend itself to a new definition that transcended putting pen to paper – it became a spotlight for resilience, story-telling, laughter, and an emotional poignancy that caught some people in the room off guard.

Jot bounced back to life as an event for people who write. But on February 23rd, it would be more appropriate to say that Jot was about people who define their careers through tenacity, perseverance, hard work and the notion that all of us deserve to be here – and deserve to show ourselves kindness. Regardless of background.

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