The Sutton Trust has long campaigned to put an end to unpaid internships. Following the publication of the Government’s consultation on banning unpaid internships, our Alumni Leadership Board member, Bethany Spain, draws on her personal experience of working for free.

There’s a familiar phrase that floats around the creative industries like a rite of passage: “It’s all about getting your foot in the door.”. But over the past few years (between jobs, volunteering, studying, and freelancing) I’ve started to realise that for many people like me, that door isn’t just closed. It’s bolted, and the only way through seems to be unpaid.

I grew up believing in the value of hard work. I’ve always been someone who says ‘yes’ to new opportunities. I volunteered from the age of 16, often travelling across the country for projects that made me feel alive and involved. I threw myself into university, ran a society, wrote articles, said ‘yes’ to panels, joined boards, built a LinkedIn profile, and gathered as much ‘experience’ as I could.

But somewhere along the way, I started to feel like I was running on fumes.

In creative and media-adjacent careers, the ladder often starts with free labour. “Just do this project for your portfolio.” “We don’t have budget, but it’ll be great exposure.” “We’re looking for someone passionate.”. Translation? We’re looking for someone willing to work for nothing. It’s hustle culture with a polished sheen — where people praise your passion while quietly taking advantage of your time, energy, and skill.

The truth is that experience isn’t free. It costs time, travel, and sometimes even your own equipment. It costs the shift at your paid job that you had to give up. It costs more than anyone with a financial safety net will ever understand.

I’ve stayed up late finishing freelance assignments after long shifts. I’ve paid for train tickets to ‘opportunities’ that didn’t cover a sandwich, never mind accommodation. I’ve worked on campaigns that paid everyone except the young people involved. I’ve edited CVs and bios and pitches over and over, trying to sound like someone who can afford to pretend I don’t care about money.

I can’t. I do. And I’m far from the only one.

Ultimately, lots of working-class people simply cannot afford to work for no or little pay. It’s a luxury only some can afford. And my personal experience is backed up by the data.

Earlier this year, the Sutton Trust’s research uncovered a worrying class disparity in access to internships, as university graduates from working-class backgrounds are much less likely to undertake an internship than their middle-class peers (55% vs 36%). This gap has widened since 2018, so the problem with access is getting worse, not better. And this inequality in access is a key reason why creative careers are dominated by those from more privileged backgrounds – as outlined by the Sutton Trust’s research on access to the creative industries last year.

Sometimes, I think about the version of me that could have moved to London after graduation. The one that could have taken the unpaid internship or said ‘yes’ to the job that didn’t quite cover rent. But I’ll always have bills, family and a life in Scotland that I love. I don’t want to just chase a dream, I want to build a sustainable life.

I don’t want to stop saying ‘yes’. I still believe in community, in creativity, in the power of media to tell important stories. But I also want to be honest about the cost of always doing things ‘for experience.’ Because unless we talk about it, unless we push back against the idea that passion should mean poverty, it won’t change.

So, here’s my hope: that we start normalising paying people for their labour. That we value lived experience as much as degrees. That we stop treating working-class creatives like they should be grateful for scraps. Because the door shouldn’t only open for those who can afford to wait at it for free.

The opinions of guest authors do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Sutton Trust.