As Youth Trailblazer Employability Lead at Westminster Employment Service, Sola has spent years using representation to expand what young people believe is possible. Her story begins when she suggested snow sports to a group of kids from Hackney, saying they’d “never seen a mountain – unless it was the rubbish outside their estate.” Realising belief starts with visibility, Sola brought in a snowboard instructor who looked and sounded like them, shifting mindsets and opening doors. The programme still runs today, reflecting her determination to ensure no child’s background limits their ambitions.
For more stories about identity, confidence and finding a sense of belonging, explore Rashida’s journey navigating motherhood and work, read Colin’s reflections on outreach shaped by lived experience, or discover how Sonia transformed isolation into art. View all Voices from the Piazza stories for more.
I still remember standing in the youth centre that evening… forty teenagers slouched in chairs, hoods up, chatting over me before I’d even opened my mouth. And I said, with all the confidence of someone who had clearly misread the room: “How about… skiing?”
Silence.
Then laughter. Proper belly laughter. One boy fell off his chair, with laughter. And someone shouted, “Bruv, we don’t ski! We’re from here!”
And as they kept laughing, it hit me: of course they didn’t see themselves doing winter sports. None of them had ever been near a mountain unless you count the piles of rubbish outside the estate. These were young people carrying heavy things on their shoulder, financial responsibilities at home, school exclusions, caring duties, all the labels society sticks on them before they’ve even started. So, I stood there trying to defend my big idea by saying, “No honestly… skiing is amazing!”
They were unconvinced.
That night I realised something important. If they couldn’t see themselves on the slopes, I had to show them someone who looked and sounded like them who already was. So, I turned to Snow Camp. I asked, “Do you have anyone from the ‘Ends’? Anyone who these kids would recognise as one of their own?” And that’s how Asher arrived.
But still, I knew the kids wouldn’t turn up unless there was something in it for them. So, yes… I bribed them. Home-made meals of jollof rice, stew chicken, oxtail and rice and peas, homemade desserts, snacks, whatever worked. And when they came, Asher stood in front of them this young man from Lewisham talking about where he came from, the hustling he used to do to make ends meet and how snowboarding had changed his life. And the room shifted. The same kids who laughed at me were suddenly listening, leaning in, nodding. Because for the first time, they saw themselves in the story.
Then came our first journey. 6 a.m. Dark, freezing, and every teenager acting as though waking up at that hour was a human rights violation. KMT! I was herding them through the streets, half of them half-asleep, the other half complaining about the cold, all of them questioning my life choices and theirs. But we made it to Victoria Station. I stood there, bleary-eyed, watching them climb onto the coach headed for Hemel Hempstead. Most of them still not fully believing that snow was real outside of Home Alone. And all I could feel was anticipation.
Something big was starting. What followed were five months of early mornings. Five months of dragging teenagers out of bed in the dark. Five months of cold air, coach journeys, lost gloves, wet clothes, lost phones, lost patience… My sanity.
But also, five months of watching something incredible happen. Because on those slopes, I saw them transform. Kids who didn’t think they belonged anywhere suddenly finding balance, finding rhythm, finding pride. I watched confidence appear where shyness used to be. I watched frustration turn into focus. And every week, they got better smaller falls, quicker turns, bigger smiles. Then came the application for Andorra.
Some of them had never left London, let alone the country. And when the awards ceremony happened, and their names were called, the look on their faces… It was like watching possibility land in real time. Those young people went on to become Snow Camp ambassadors supporting the next cohort, passing on everything they’d learned. A cycle of confidence and community that none of us could have imagined on that first chaotic morning at Victoria Station.
And now, when I look back, twelve years on… I realise the truth of it. I didn’t just teach them about snow sports. They taught me about perseverance, joy, patience, and the power of representation.
A simple idea one that made them laugh at first turned into something lasting, something generational, something that’s still alive today. And every year when I see a new group of young people step onto that coach… I remember that very first moment in the youth centre, and I smile, because they were wrong: They are winter sports people. They always were. They just needed a chance to see it.