Gentrification, class, housing, violence … in these excerpts from documentary interviews by film-maker and playwright Penny Woolcock for Block 9’s immersive installation Utopia, young men and women reveal what it’s like to be on the frontline of the inequality struggle on the streets of north London

Jogging towards gentrification: Sam, 23

I was standing in an area just outside of my estate by the pathway to Camley Street, which goes into the King’s Cross area, where they’ve just built a new urban nest and cooperative on the same road. But the whole road is the most cracked-out area, because it’s the route from Camden to King’s Cross.

At like 8pm, I looked to the side and I saw 60 white people, all who looked between the ages of 24 and 32, all smiling. Half of them were wearing matching red T-shirts with a slogan on it. There were two leaders at the front … and it was the scariest thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.

It was like they were sending a squad to go and scout the area – like before the Death Star arrives or something. It was absolutely frightening, so weird to see them, all smiling and happy. They looked like they all had jobs in like PR companies and were really successful.

In that area, everyone gets stopped and searched for the wrong reasons, for their appearance – but none of these people would’ve been. It was the middle of winter and had been dark for hours. You could see ponytails and new shoes and big containers full of what I’m guessing was like, kale juice or something.

You could see ponytails and new shoes and big containers full of what I’m guessing was like, kale juice or something Sam, 23

They were just jogging, on an organised run, but in the most cracked-out part of my area. It’s weird – it’s a sign of things to come. It’s like them saying, “Hey, we’re here, we’re gonna jog round your area at night.” Because very simply, they’re just not supposed to feel safe in the area. The government have made it so that they’re not supposed to feel safe, but people of my social class are, because we have lower standards, right?

The whole reason the area looks so terrible, and the whole reason it’s been neglected and the reason there’s graffiti from the early 90s there, is because they think it’s OK to neglect it. When me, a black person, and when poor people live on the estate, it’s completely OK – it’s part of the system’s intentional neglect of an area until it’s time to move the rich people in.

It’s capitalism, it’s what happens. It’s the belief that some people should be better off than others. You can see it in this borough – my council estate hasn’t been well-kept, and now they’re knocking parts down to rebuild new block. And they won’t give any of it back to those who will be displaced because they’re marketing it to the wealthy. On the other side of the estate, there’s a big sign with a middle-class white lady in a nice dress, which says: “Maiden Lane: a place for everyone”, when the whole point of social housing is that it’s for the poorest people. “A place for everyone”? That’s fucking ridiculous.

And the reason I was so afraid when the runners came through is because I know the higher rents come with them. I know I won’t be able to afford my own area because those people are jogging through it.



Class borders: Kadir, 23

My school was so middle-class, it was a bit confusing for me. There was me, and then one other boy who came from a similar background. People got what they wanted, had new stuff every other week. And then there was me, cherishing this one thing that I’d have for like, a month or something. Little things like that, it was kind of weird. That was in Hampstead, a completely posh area, but I lived in Queen’s Crescent Estate.

Before that, when I was in year seven, I went to a Catholic school miles away from my house, so I was travelling far at a young age. I got bullied a bit at that school, and then it made me start bullying kids and that’s when I got kicked out, halfway through year seven. So then I started at Haverstock, which at the time was really deprived – kids smoking in the buildings and stuff.

I'd walk past these massive houses and think, 'What have they done to get this?' Kadir

In year eight and nine, I started looking up to all the bad guys, as you would say, and getting inspired by them, which I should’nt have. I thought they were cool, so I started acting bad and got into loads of trouble, shitloads of trouble.

Another thing I forgot to mention was that my area was surrounded by multimillion-pound houses. Sometimes when I would walk to the park or something, I’d walk past these massive houses and think, “How have they got this?” Like, “What have they done to get this?” It made you think about how different people live, and it made me want that life as well. I don’t know whether it made it better or worse, but seeing it was kind of inspirational, especially coming from my house.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest A set in Penny Woolcock and Block 9’s immersive installation Utopia at the Roundhouse, London

I lived in a deprived area, but I had a close friend who was middle-class [Lawrence, below]. He lived in a million-pound house. Actually it was probably more than that. I used to go over to his house: he had this massive games room, a big bedroom to himself, and I thought, “Two of your rooms are bigger than my whole house!” Around Queen’s Crescent, which is a council estate, you’d walk out and there’s literally a border. You cross the road and you see all these bloody four-storey houses and all these expensive cars. I was bang in the middle of Hampstead, Regent’s Park, Primrose Hill, Highgate … all these posh areas. A big change that you’d see as soon as you left the estate.

And it sort of encouraged a mentality of robbing. You’d see these people, who were just so timid. You’d think: “He’s got the newest Nokia that his Mum’s just bought for him, so let me have that.” And you’d know they’d just say “take it”, because they can just get a new one. But I could sell it and hopefully save money for my own phone, or spend it on drugs or something.

A very different world: Lawrence, 23

Kadir [above] was one of my first friends. When I went to his house, I was just happy to be at a friend’s house. It wasn’t the same kind of shock that I’m sure he had when he first came to my house, in terms of the size and how grand it was. For me, I didn’t step into his and think, “Wow, how un-grand and small,” or “God, this is tiny, how can they live here?” But in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think, “OK, clearly there’s a difference. He’s in a ground-floor flat, my house is three storeys and could very easily be three flats.” So I guess you’re aware of it.

Where I live in Gospel Oak, there are really lovely houses and it backs on to the Heath. But then you go to the bottom of the road and you go to an estate where there’s not much green space. And then you walk behind that estate and you go into Queen’s Crescent, which is a very different world.

Where I lived felt very picturesque and not so gritty. And then you go to the estate, and the architecture is much harsher and it’s more built up. I remember once Kadir saying to me: “Sometimes I get sick of just being around endless estates that cloud your imagination and can make you feel trapped.” That was such a poignant thing he said to me. When you’re in that world, homogenised estates can just feel like you’re living in this concrete mass jungle.

Postcode wars: Aman, 26

I got to about 14 and a half, and I decided that I wanted to get a bit of an education. I put myself in school, and I had to cross over into a different postcode. Where I lived in east London, it was the start of postcode wars, which was to do with gang territory based on where you lived. I wasn’t in a gang at the time because I wanted to change my life and be good, but I used to get chased from kids in another postcode when I would walk to school. Eventually I got fed up of being chased, caught, beaten up and robbed by these kids, so I eventually joined a gang just so I would walk with them to school.

Penny Woolcock: ‘March towards the sound of gunfire' Read more

‘The government owns every street’

I felt safe. At first it was just so I could go and get an education, but then eventually the gang ended up leading me to commit even worse crimes, like smash and grabs, burglaries on warehouses, and loads of things like that.

But now I realise that the postcode war, which was basically a war of streets and who owns the street, was stupid. The government owns every street, so you can’t argue about who owns what … It really only applies to young men. Everyone else is free to walk around, and it’s just the people who are in gangs – mostly kids aged between 11 to 21 – who are involved.

All names have been changed.

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