I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when I arrived at The Harris on the 6th of March for the IWD26 panel. These kinds of events can go either way. Sometimes they feel a bit distant, a bit formal, as though you’re watching something from the sidelines rather than really being part of it. This one didn’t feel like that.
From quite early on, it felt more like a conversation than a performance. The evening began with a networking session, and I found myself speaking to people from all corners of the creative industries. It was refreshing to encounter such a mix of backgrounds, both within the panel and the audience. More importantly, it didn’t feel exclusionary. Everyone was open, and conversations flowed naturally.
Then came the panel itself. The speakers spoke openly, but more importantly, they listened to one another. There wasn’t a rush to land on neat answers or polished conclusions, which made it feel more honest, and much easier to settle into as an audience member. I found myself properly paying attention, not just noting things down in my head, but actually thinking along with what was being said.
At one point, I decided to ask a question. I nearly didn’t. There’s always that small moment of hesitation, where you wonder whether to just let someone else speak instead. But I’m glad I did. It shifted something, however slightly, from being there to observe to being part of the conversation.
That, more than anything, is what stayed with me afterwards. It’s something I’ve worked to overcome as I’ve gotten older: being willing to ask the “stupid” questions. After all, what is wrong with wanting to learn?
It wasn’t about coming away with a list of key takeaways or a perfectly summarised set of ideas. It was more about the feeling of being in a space where people were taking the time to think, to listen, and to respond carefully. That kind of space feels rarer than it should be.
At the same time, it’s difficult to ignore the tension in that. The event felt welcoming and open, yet the discussion itself touched on the ways education, social dissonance, and class continue to act as barriers, limiting who has access to these kinds of spaces and opportunities.
Looking back at the photos now, they capture small, easily overlooked moments: people listening, concentrating, engaging. It’s a reminder that events like this aren’t just about what’s said on stage, but about the atmosphere in the room as a whole.
I left feeling thoughtful, in a steady rather than dramatic way. I left feeling part of a community.
More than anything, that day reminded me that it’s always worth speaking when you have something to say.
Image credits: Photographs by Fish 2 Photography, courtesy of Creative Lancashire