I didn’t speak for a long time.
I was silent for a whole year at one point.
To be clear...Molly Fenton not speaking is unheard of.
I only spoke rarely to my sister Tilly, for basic needs, that was it.

But I've come to learn my voice never truly left. I just didn't have a safe space to use it. Identifying that and finding it again gave me the platform I am able to do things like this - telling you my experience here today.

I’ve had to navigate so many negative experiences entirely on my own. Being your own voice while facing resistance from the healthcare system feels impossible, especially when you can feel your body suffering. Which it was. I developed an inoperable, low-grade brain tumour. I was often left alone in traumatic situations; I was only 17, and Covid hit, so my mum couldn’t come into the hospital with me. I’d cry the whole time, simply because I wanted my mum.

So I stopped talking. No one took my voice; I just couldn’t use it. It either wasn’t safe, or it was clouded over.

If I spoke I wasn’t listened to. I was a number. I was my illness. Any human identity was gone, so I gave up. My sister advocated for me everywhere. Even when speaking to my parents.

Fast forward to today, I talk…a lot. I've done a TEDx talk, spoken at the United Nations and tried to educate as many adults as possible on ways to think differently about young people who need - and deserve - extra support at difficult times of life.

I've even made it into a job through public speaking about my experiences, youth activism, feminism, health advocacy.
 

The voice I have now was there all along. No one gave it to me. It’s adapting, growing and expanding every day. It actually grew its most potential in the time I said nothing at all. When I was at my sickest I didn’t have the ability to overthink about the emotional side of what was happening - little did I know I was creating my own future out of these experiences. It taught me to use it correctly and sensitively. I spoke about many things: 

Lessons.
Tips and tricks.
Important turning points.
Groundbreaking moments.
Hilarious stories that break some embarrassment around stigmatised topics.

Things I could share that aren’t just my life story. Because who needs to hear that!? Not me again, to be honest, I’d rather not relive it! But there were many key things that made me speak.

And now, I get to speak in many spaces. I've learnt what I have to say holds value. Something I never would've thought before. And I know that many young people don't get all the time.

My favourite work I do is on the youth board I sit on for my health board, Cardiff and The Vale. We have shaped policy, organisational approaches, campaigns…my voice has gravity now. In those hospital walls people stopped using my name. I was nobody.

The voice never went.
You’ve got one. We’ve all got one.
We just can’t always use it.

The whole idea of 'giving' a young person a voice has to go - we all have one. And we all deserve to be heard.

For those of us privileged to speak up, what can we do to create safe, equal, genuine spaces for people to use their voices? This will be unique for different communities, as we all have different needs. Have a think! 

I’m proud of my voice. Know it has a lot of backing. I’m learning, making mistakes, acknowledging them, and growing. It acknowledges my sister's role - and if you’ve heard me speak, you’ll know it. 

The empathy drive is Molly, who three years ago never spoke. Because that’s the girl who needed someone to say what I’ve been saying now.