Danielle Jawando on her YA Book Prize-shortlisted novel, If My Words Had Wings

What inspired this novel? 

I’d been wanting to write a book like If My Words Had Wings for a really long time. I first touched on some of the issues it explores in my second YA novel, When Our Worlds Collided, but I knew that to truly do these themes justice, they needed their own story and characters.

Wings was inspired by the real experiences of so many young people of colour affected by the justice system. Before I began writing full time, I was a teacher, and I worked with a lot of young people who were no longer in mainstream education for various reasons. I met so many teenagers who had been failed and harmed by the very systems meant to protect them – whether that was the justice system, the police, social care or the education system. Those experiences and those young people are what inspired me to write this book.

At the same time, I’m always thinking about the voices we rarely get to hear or read in YA fiction – particularly in the UK. As a writer, I always want to create space on the page, and on the shelves, for those stories and those characters to be seen.

Wings follows Tyrell, a teenage boy in a young offenders’ prison, and explores the different ways that young people of colour are criminalised and let down every day. I wanted the main character to be someone who is in prison because he made a mistake – because it was vital to show how someone can commit a crime and still be a victim of injustice.

Tyrell’s story reflects the many layers of injustice that can exist all at once – how a young person can be criminalised for one action while also being repeatedly failed by the structures around them: schools, social services and the police. These forms of harm don’t cancel each other out – they compound. And too often, the full context of a young person’s life is ignored. That’s what I wanted to explore.

Black teenagers – especially Black boys – are so rarely seen as human, let alone as children. I wanted to show Tyrell and the other boys in the novel as exactly that. While there are many heartbreaking and rage-inducing moments in the book, there’s also tenderness, vulnerability, compassion and love. Tyrell struggles with his mental health and self-esteem, and in a world that refuses to acknowledge the softness of Black boys, that representation felt powerful in itself.

The novel also shines a light on joint enterprise – a law that disproportionately affects young Black boys. Over half the people in prison under joint enterprise are children. Under this law, you can be convicted just for being near the scene of a crime. It relies heavily on racist stereotypes and the construction of a "gang" narrative as evidence.

There are hundreds of young people across the country serving life sentences because of this law. And the gang narrative is so deeply embedded into every facet society, that once it enters the courtroom, these young people don’t stand a chance. One of the most disturbing patterns in these cases is how music – particularly drill and rap – is taken out of context and used as evidence. Lyrics are treated as proof of danger or intent, while forms of artistic expression central to Black culture – along with working-class Black speech and slang – are criminalised. Imagine: every part of your identity, the very fact of your existence, being used to prove your guilt. That’s why writing about this felt so urgent.

While I was writing the book, a prominent case known as the Manchester 10 was unfolding. Ten Black boys in Manchester were jailed over messages in a group chat and sentenced collectively to 131 years in prison. The city was full of pain, anger and grief – a collective mourning for how often Black boys are failed and harmed by the system – over-policed, under-protected and treated as suspects before they’re seen as children.

Writing Wings during that time felt necessary. I was creating something that allowed young people to feel seen – in both their pain and their power. Shining a light on stories like this, on what happens in my community, truly matters to me.

Naturally, words are a major theme in the book – the harm they can cause, but also the power they hold. It’s only in prison that Ty discovers a love of language. It’s the first time he sets foot in a library. What gives me hope, always, is young people – their passion, their joy, their empathy, their fire.

I still run creative writing workshops in schools and work with many young people in care. I see them come alive through writing. Through this novel, I wanted to show how young people can find connection and community, how they can resist – loudly or quietly – find their voice in a world that tries to silence them, and how, even in the hardest moments, they can still fly.

What do you hope readers take away from If My Words Had Wings?

What I most want readers to take away from this book is the feeling of being truly seen and understood – especially for the types of young people that are rarely visible in stories. There are so many young people who have been told they don’t matter or don’t deserve to be acknowledged, so I hope that Wings offers them a sense of belonging and understanding. I also want young readers to know that poetry and art aren’t just for middle-class audiences. Growing up, it often felt like writing or the arts weren’t for people like me or the young people I work with – and that belief still lingers in so many young people today.

So I hope this book shows that words belong to everyone – that writing and expression are for you, no matter where you come from. But most importantly, I hope it inspires readers to write, to speak out, to create – and to know just how much their voice matters. 

Which character in the book is your favourite, and why?

I’m cheating here and saying two (sorry!). But Tyrell is definitely one of them – he makes mistakes, he’s resilient, brave, tender, scared, full of so much to say, and navigating a complicated world as best he can. He reminds me of so many young people I’ve worked with and met. Over the course of the story, he goes through a profound transformation – discovering his own power and strength through words, almost finding self-love in the process. That moment moved me so deeply as I wrote it.

Dadir (who is in prison under joint enterprise) is another of my favourite characters. Writing his scenes often broke my heart, but even in everything he’d been through, he still found a way back to himself – holding on to his love of music, even when the world tried to strip it from him. Their friendship, though, was one of the most beautiful parts of the novel for me – both Ty and Dadir found a space within each other where they could truly be themselves, and their bond became a quiet kind of light, carrying them through one of the darkest times in both of their lives.

Continues…