Amplify Marginalized Voices

“The Panel That Paid Everyone — Except the Person Who Lived It”

A well-funded nonprofit focused on youth homelessness organized a city-wide “Solutions Summit.” They invited 200 people: service providers, academics, donors, and policymakers. They also invited two young people with lived experience of homelessness to “share their stories.” The young people were not paid. The keynote speaker — a former CEO — received £5,000. The catering budget was £12,000. The young people sat in the back, eating leftover sandwiches.

A 20-year-old named Dev, who had been homeless at 16, was one of the “storytellers.” He was asked to prepare a five-minute speech about “what helped me survive.” He wrote something raw: about a teacher who noticed, a shelter that lost his file, a social worker who called him “manipulative.” When he arrived, he was told to “focus on the positive” and “not blame anyone.” Dev refused. He delivered his original speech. Half the room cried. The other half looked at their phones. Afterward, a donor approached him and said, “You’re so brave. Can I take a selfie with you?” Dev walked out.

Dev started a small campaign called Nothing About Us Without Our Pay. The rule: any organization that wants to “amplify lived experience” must pay a minimum of £50 per hour, provide the questions in advance, and offer emotional support during and after. He created a one-page contract and shared it on Instagram. Within weeks, three other young people had used the contract to negotiate payment for speaking gigs. One was told, “We don’t have a budget for that.” She replied, “Then you don’t have a budget for my voice.”

The nonprofit that had hosted the summit reached out to Dev. They apologized. They offered him a paid position on their “Youth Advisory Board” — £200 per meeting, four meetings a year. Dev accepted. But at the first meeting, he realized the board had no real power. They could “advise” but not vote. They could “consult” but not veto. Dev proposed a motion: the youth board must approve all grant applications related to youth homelessness. The adult board members laughed nervously. The motion was tabled indefinitely.

Dev stayed on the board for eight months, then resigned. He wrote a public letter: “You didn’t want my voice. You wanted my trauma as a prop for your fundraising emails.” The nonprofit issued a statement thanking him for his “passionate contributions.” Dev now runs a small collective that trains young people to spot “voice-washing” — when organizations amplify marginalized voices without shifting power. “Amplification without authority is just aesthetics,” he says. “And aesthetics don’t keep anyone housed.”

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Discussion Prompt for The Campaign

How do we distinguish between genuine amplification and exploitation? And what’s the first question every young person should ask before saying “yes” to a speaking invitation?

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