By Titi Solarin, Founder, Tailored Futures CIC
I realised something was wrong when I found myself spending more time writing about young people than actually speaking to them.
Early in my career as a Youth Development Worker, I was employed to support young people facing a range of challenges. Like many frontline practitioners, I quickly discovered that much of my working week was spent completing paperwork, recording activities and meeting administrative requirements. In reality, only a fraction of my time was spent face-to-face with the young people themselves.
The paperwork had its place, but it was rarely the thing that made the difference. Young people needed trusted adults who would listen, challenge them when necessary, encourage them and take an interest in their lives.
One experience from those years has stayed with me to this day.
I was working with a young person who regularly attended our youth club. We were discussing an upcoming residential trip, and I casually asked whether he would be joining the other young people. He quietly explained that he could not attend because he needed to care for his mother, who had mobility difficulties and did not speak English as a first language. If he left home for several days, there would be no one available to support his mother.
What struck me was that nobody knew. This young person had never presented himself as someone needing support. He simply carried the responsibility without complaint.
Without the relationship we had built, I may never have understood what was happening at home.
Following our conversation, he was introduced to the Young Carers team. He had no idea such support existed. After being assessed, he was found eligible for support, and his family was later connected with additional services that helped ease some of the pressure they had been carrying alone.
This young person’s experience showed me why meaningful interaction matters. People are far more likely to engage with support when they feel seen and understood.
Years later, when I began working with people involved in the criminal justice system, I recognised many of the same challenges I had seen in youth work. The setting was different, but the themes were familiar. Many faced low confidence, limited opportunities, stigma, isolation and a lack of belief in their own potential.
What many people needed was someone who could see beyond their criminal history and recognise them as a whole person, with a story, responsibilities, ability and potential.
It was those experiences that eventually inspired me to establish Tailored Futures. I wanted it to be an organisation that placed people at the centre of its work, recognised potential, acknowledged barriers without defining people by them, and worked alongside individuals as they rebuilt their lives.
One of the biggest misconceptions I have encountered is the belief that people with convictions are all the same. That has never been my experience. I have sat across from former senior professionals, skilled tradespeople, business owners and individuals with extraordinary talent and determination. Yet many are still judged by the worst decision they have ever made.
One individual I worked with had spent many years as a language teacher before his conviction. Teaching was not simply his profession; it was a major part of his identity. By the time we met, his marriage had broken down, he was anxious about the future, and he was deeply concerned about how he would support himself moving forward. More than anything, he felt he had lost the identity he had worked hard to build and was now being viewed through the stigma attached to his conviction.
The opportunities being presented to him bore little resemblance to his professional experience or aspirations. At that point, he could no longer see the value of the skills he still had. Yet those skills, along with his experience and potential, were exactly what stood out to me, rather than his conviction.
Through our conversations, we developed a plan for how he could begin rebuilding his life. The first step was supporting him to establish a remote language tuition business. Within months, he had built a client base strong enough to create a full-time income. More importantly, he began to regain confidence and a sense of purpose.
After settling into the community, he returned to volunteer at the Approved Premises where he had previously lived, providing English language support free of charge.
To me, that is what rehabilitation looks like: someone regaining purpose, stability and a sense of direction after being given the right support and the opportunity to rebuild.
I often say that I knew Tailored Futures was making a difference when the conversations started to change. When people first come to us, they are often sceptical. Many have been referred from service to service and, understandably, see us as just another appointment.
Months later, the conversations are often completely different. Instead of talking solely about barriers, people begin to discuss work commitments, school runs, housing plans and family holidays. Those conversations matter because they often show that someone is beginning to think beyond immediate challenges and plan for the future.
We often hear that prison has a rehabilitative purpose, alongside its role in punishment and deterrence. If we genuinely believe that, we should also be willing to give people a realistic opportunity to rebuild their lives once they have served their sentence. Without that, rehabilitation becomes a hollow promise.
My vision for the future is simple. I want to see fewer people returning to prison because they receive the right support at the right time. I want to see more people accessing meaningful employment, rebuilding family relationships and finding their place in the community again.
Over the years, I have learned that hope is not passive. It grows when support is consistent, when opportunities are fair and realistic, and when people are treated as capable of change rather than permanently defined by their past actions.
It also requires a willingness to see people beyond their past. People need to take responsibility for their actions, but that responsibility should not remove the possibility of rebuilding their lives.
That is why I continue to believe that people are more than their worst mistake.
