REDZ: Stroud’s new youth hub

In May of this year, something truly new popped up in the heart of Stroud’s bustling town centre. Something exciting, ambitious, even revolutionary. Something red. 

Nestled amongst the swanky coffee shops and pricy vintage boutiques, Redz is our new DIY youth space and community centre. Since opening their doors this spring, Redz have provided a hub of activities and opportunities, from pay-what-you-can dinners and political rabble-rousing to film nights and queer karaoke. 

Drenched in summer sweat and giddy with glitter after the Stroud Pride festivities, I went along to one of Redz’s weekly Saturday drop-ins. Splayed across well-loved sofas with youth organiser and janitor extraordinaire Tattie, I hear how the activists-turned-youth-workers are taking back space for young Stroudies.

Redz is the latest face of a long and proud tradition of grassroots community organising in Stroud. In its earliest form, many of the Redz organisers were part of SISTER (Stroud Internationalist Solidarity Together for Earth Repairs), an activist collective squatting in the Old County Library in Lansdown two years ago. The group used the site to host a community cafe, film screenings, political organising, and educational talks. “That was our first attempt at putting together a space,” Tattie tells me. “Well, it was more than an attempt. We fucking succeeded.”

Since being evicted from the space by the County Council in November 2023, the leftist youth group Mutiny sprouted from the ashes. “There wasn't really a particular space where folks were organising around,” Tattie explains. “So the first bullet point of the [Mutiny] manifesto was building radical, safe, and accessible spaces that empower people and build community.”

Redz became that very space. After forming Stroud Community Space as a Community Interest Company earlier this year, the group settled on renting out a more settled hub on Threadneedle Street, supported through the Stroud District Council’s crowdfunding initiative. After a few months renovating the space and daubing the walls in a fitting righteous scarlet, Redz opened to the community two months ago. 

“We want people to feel like this is their living room”

“So far we've been running some film screenings, arts and crafts, some reading groups, these Saturday drop-ins. And we're looking to expand, host other groups and put on other stuff. Because what's the point of having a space like this if it's not in use?”

Tattie explains that whilst the Redz volunteer team are happy to take the reins on the practical stuff - bulk buying the Ribena and keeping the lights on - they want to encourage young people to pitch ideas and make the space their own.  

“Whilst we are organisers, I think this space wants to belong to all of the youth in Stroud in terms of like feeling a level of [shared] ownership. We want people to feel like this is a third space or an extension of their living room.”

Redz is also proving to be hub for hosting People's and Youth Assemblies, where “folks come together, organise, and have a meeting based on direct democratic principles. Young people [can] coordinate their energies and discuss what they want to be progressing towards.”

Rather than waiting months at the bottom of overstretched and underfunded waiting lists, community members can feel empowered to develop the skills they need to fix the things around them. It’s exactly the same kind of approach that led to Redz being formed in the first place. Whether it's collective building repairs, food production or creative co-education, the possibilities are endless.

“For example, our last two assemblies were based around what to do with this base,” Tattie says. “Mutiny decided to run a mutual aid project, a Black-led jazz night, and some community feasts. [Now, we’re] trying to invite in people with knowledge of specific cuisines, and trying to link up more with the houseless community.”

As Tattie and I sit sheltered beneath Palestinian flags, protest placards adorning the walls and pamphlets splayed out across the tables, it’s clear Redz is unafraid to wear their politics on their sleeve. Whether it’s demanding earth repairs, gender-affirming healthcare, or the Palestinian right of return, the organisers tell me that building community is the indispensable first step to bolder political aspirations.

“How do you have the power to achieve any of your political goals?” Tattie asks me rhetorically. “If we’re not in touch with our community, if we're not building relationships here on the grassroots, then how are we actually going to do it?”

“I want to build a more democratic society. We build that democracy by talking to my neighbours, by building a shared analysis that we use to look at the rest of the world, and act together for the betterment of it.” While some events and initiatives hosted here are more overtly political than others, all aim to build stronger links with and amongst local young people.

Tattie says they’re also looking to introduce “co-therapy” sessions, “where folks without therapeutic experience just take time to actively listen to one another's problems. It's just an opportunity for people to be listened to, and also be a listener and sit with these big issues that feel really daunting to the youth of today.”

Impossibly heavy issues like climate collapse, genocide, and the threat of nuclear war loom heavy over young people whose generation have only ever known austerity and national decline, punctuated by a global pandemic and the boom of social media and AI. “I don't think there's anything that we can say to each other that will fix that,” Tattie admits. 

“But we can create spaces that feel calm and feel holding. It's not going to make the US imperial war machine stop doing what it’s doing. But it is going to give us an emotional grounding within ourselves to be able to face that reality together.”

Even in its early days, Redz feels like a special place, full of people just unapologetically and energetically doing something. The enthusiasm is palpable amongst both attendees and organisers; “It’s like having a golden goose just fly in for you to use,” says Tattie. 

Now, the next step is encouraging the proactive use of the space by local young people directly. Attendance so far has been consistent but modest, and the Redz team are hoping young people from across Stroud’s diverse communities feel able to take up space here.

“There's a hesitation from both sides of the class divide here,” Tattie admits. With many youth spaces and official initiatives having quietly folded over the past 15 years, introducing something as simple as a free coffee drop-in can seem alien. 

Redz are hoping to convert the support they’ve got from established activist networks into a sustainable and ambitious programme of activities and initiatives. “When we do our big social events and when we call for specific support, [we receive it] really quickly. It goes to show how much people want to see spaces like these thrive."

"But maybe they feel more comfortable supporting in financial ways. The way we run the space isn't just through money: it's through time and energy and passion and people.”

If Redz proves anything, it’s that change doesn’t begin with permission — it begins with people showing up for each other. Now, they’re calling on young people across Stroud to step inside, take up space, and help shape what comes next. 

You can see Redz’s timetable of events on the Stroud Community Space website, and make a suggestion or hire the space using their online form. 

Amplify Stroud is supported by Dialect rural writers collective. Dialect offers mentorship, publishing opportunities and self-study courses.