Amplifying Youth Voices: The Power of Advocacy
Hollis Blaine writes monthly articles outlining her experiences of and advocacy within Vermont's child welfare system. She speaks often on the complexities of being a youth in care—whether that’s navigating caseworker transitions, the importance of establishing normalcy, or the intense need for community. Click to read her article on the power of advocacy and be sure to check out her substack page for more!
Throughout my time in the foster care system, I was often commended for my ability to advocate for myself. Adults (my caseworkers, GAL, attorney) would tell me how impressed they were that I could clearly express my needs, wants, and opinions. I learned to speak up because I knew I had to. Yet, despite those praises, I often felt like my voice wasn’t truly being heard. Even when I was discussing life-changing decisions, ones that directly impacted my future, I found myself on the sidelines. It wasn’t just frustrating, it was disheartening.
As I got older, this disconnect became even more noticeable. I was on the cusp of adulthood, but many of the adults responsible for making decisions about my life didn’t seem to consider me part of the decision-making process. Even as I approached my senior year, it felt like I was being kept out of the room while crucial conversations were happening about my future. It was a time when I should have been preparing to transition into the next chapter of my life, yet I was left feeling like a bystander in my own life.
I remember feeling confused. My teachers, school counselors, and advisors all asked me what I wanted to do after graduation. They encouraged me to think about my future, and their questions made me feel like I had some control over what was next. But at the same time, the people who had the most direct impact on my near future—the ones deciding where I would live, what supports I would have access to, and how I would prepare for life on my own—didn’t ask those same questions. It was confusing and left me feeling like my voice only mattered in certain spaces, but not in the ones that held the most weight.
I had always been interested in law and had thought about pursuing it as a career, but while my experiences in the system made me even more inspired, they also made me question whether that path was right for me. If I couldn’t get the people around me to listen to me, people who were supposed to be advocating for my best interests, how could I ever expect to convince a courtroom full of strangers? That doubt lingered with me for a long time.
Writing became a way for me to navigate these feelings. I’ve always enjoyed journaling, but over time, it became much more than just a personal outlet. It became my way of communicating with the adults in my life who weren’t listening. When I wasn’t invited into conversations about my future, I would write letters. I’d pour my thoughts, concerns, and hopes into these letters, then ask my care team to share them on my behalf. In a way, it was my way of being in the room, even if I wasn’t physically there. It was my voice, on paper, representing me. But even that wasn’t always enough. There were times when my letters went unanswered, or I’d later find out that the decisions had already been made before anyone even read what I had to say.
It’s a strange place to be, too young to be treated as an adult but too old to believe that staying silent will make everything okay. I learned quickly that, as much as I tried, I wasn’t always going to be heard. But that didn’t mean I was going to stop trying. If anything, it made me more determined to ensure that not only my voice was heard but that other young people in the system could be heard, too.
That was one of the reasons I joined the Youth Development Program’s Youth Advisory Board (YAB). The YAB is a space where former foster youth with lived experience come together to share our stories and work toward making changes in the system. It’s a place where our voices aren’t just encouraged, they’re necessary. We meet once a month, and while our last meeting was intended to focus on creating a resource guide for youth in the system, the conversation quickly shifted to advocacy. What struck me most during that meeting was the legislative work some of the members were doing. These were young people who had been through the fostercare system, just like me, now influencing policy and fighting for change at the state level. It was a powerful reminder that advocacy isn’t just about having a voice, it’s about using that voice to create real change. I realized advocacy isn’t just a resource, it might be the most important resource we can offer to youth in care. While making sure basic physical needs are met is essential, so is fulfilling the emotional need to feel heard and validated. For many of us, being able to speak up and have our perspectives considered is as crucial as any other support we receive.
The truth is, older youth in foster care often know what they want and need. The decisions that are made about their lives are complex, and those decisions deserve to be shaped by the voices of the young people they affect. It’s not just about allowing youth to have a seat at the table, it’s about genuinely listening to what they have to say. Even if not every request can be granted, sometimes all we need is the assurance that someone is listening and that our input matters.
As a former foster youth, I’ve seen firsthand the impact that both self-advocacy and advocacy from others can have. I’ve been in the rooms where decisions were made without me, and I’ve fought to make sure that my voice was heard, even when it felt impossible. That’s why I continue to advocate, and that’s why I believe so strongly in the power of youth voices. It’s time we ensure that all youth in the system, especially older youth, are not just spoken for but listened to. Because when we listen to youth, we empower them. And when we empower them, we give them the tools to change their futures for the better.