Abstract
People with criminal records occupy a marginalised space in the labour market. Lived experience work provides an alternative pathway to overcome such exclusion, allowing individuals to transform an otherwise stigmatising attribute into something of value. Arguably, this enables a sense of mastery over life on the periphery, providing financial income and facilitating social inclusion. However, in an age of digital networking and online identity curation, contemporary forms of lived experience work are increasingly visible and entrepreneurial in nature. In light of this, this paper explores: 1) who is able to construct a permissible narrative for lived experience work, 2) how such careers are curated and sustained over time, and 3) how this experiential insight is engaged with by business and organisations. The paper contributes to emerging discussions regarding what meaningful and sustainable lived experience work might look like for people with criminal records.
Introduction
People with criminal records (PWCRs) occupy a marginalised space in the labour market. They are subject to de jure exclusions dictated by law (e.g. disqualification due to barred lists), and extra-legal de facto discriminatory practices (e.g. employers acting on the information revealed by criminal background checks) (Corda et al., 2023). Whilst de jure exclusions are generally based on principles of public protection, de facto discrimination largely stems from the stigma associated with criminal justice involvement (Anazodo et al., 2025; Corda and Lageson, 2020). Importantly, engagement with the criminal justice system is often seen as the result of one's own conduct making the criminal record an ‘achieved’ form of stigma (Cherney and Fitzgerald, 2016; Goffman, 1963). Subsequently, it is a particularly ‘sticky’ form of stigma (Denver and DeWitt, 2022: 7), signifying; unreliability, untrustworthiness, and risk (Jacobs, 2015; Jacobs and Crepet, 2007). Exclusion from the labour market manifests as a form of additional ‘disordered punishment’, experienced in highly disproportionate and unpredictable ways (Corda and Lageson, 2020: 246). It places PWCRs in a position of financial instability (Ispa-Landa and Loeffler, 2016; Standing, 2011) and denies them full citizenship (Hoskins, 2019; Weaver and Jardine, 2022).
Owing to this exclusion from mainstream employment, PWCRs often embark on alternative career pathways, such as self-employment, which enable them to avoid criminal record disclosure interactions (Irankunda et al., 2020; Smith, 2009). Those living with multiple stigmas, such as formerly incarcerated black men, are even more likely to engage with entrepreneurialism as a response to labour market discrimination (Hwang, 2022; Hwang and Phillips, 2024). Another alternative pathway is lived experience work whereby PWCRs actively draw on their life histories and experiential insight having been directly involved with specific life events (Antojado and McPhee, 2024). Traditionally, in the realm of criminal and social justice, this has involved activities like peer mentoring and user voice groups, and much of this work has been undertaken within the penal voluntary sector (PVS) – the non-profit, non-statutory organisations ‘working principally with prisoners, (ex-)offenders, their families and victims in prison, community and advocacy programmes’ (Tomczak and Buck, 2019: 898). Like self-employment, individuals often engage with this work out of necessity, acutely aware of their exclusion from mainstream careers (Bacq et al., 2023; Baskaran, 2019; Buck et al., 2022). The very fact that this work is often a response to structural barriers and exclusionary practice necessitates a critical discussion of the personal costs associated with this type of employment. Furthermore, as this paper illustrates, contemporary forms of lived experience work are increasingly visible and entrepreneurial in nature. There is considerable pressure to build a portfolio of work, manage a network of contacts, and continually refresh and maintain one's online persona (Gandini, 2016). This ‘work for labour’ (Standing, 2011) is largely unremunerated and time consuming (Gandini, 2016; Hochschild, 2001), but it may still be more economically advantageous than the low-paid, precarious work available for PWCRs in mainstream careers (Hwang and Phillips, 2024). Acknowledging these tensions and complexities, the paper will explore: 1) who is able to construct a permissible narrative for lived experience work, 2) how such careers are curated and sustained over time, and 3) how this experiential insight is engaged with by business and organisations.
Before continuing to the crux of the discussion, it is both useful and necessary to explain the origins of this paper. In May 2024, the author launched the Criminal Record Research and Reform network via an in-person event at De Montfort University. This stemmed from their PhD research into the long-term consequences of early life criminal justice interactions in England and Wales. The network provides space for critical discussion on the long-term implications of criminal justice involvement, seeking to support cross-sector collaboration and advocacy work. The network brings together a range of individuals such as academics, people with lived experience, third sector organisations, and people working in policy. At the launch event two invited speakers discussed their own experiences of using their experiential insight within their careers. Frankco Harris from ELEVATE CJS reflected on the importance of language, highlighting that ‘living experience’ is more accurate than ‘lived’ as the effects of having engaged with the criminal justice system are forever going. Adam Ali from Grow Transform Belong discussed the affective dimensions of drawing on personal life experiences in a professional capacity. This sparked a lengthy group discussion regarding the nature of lived experience work and the personal costs involved, and the author has since continued to interrogate the ethics and politics of lived experience with others in their networks. Whilst this paper does not present new, empirical data into the experiences of engaging with this work, it draws together a number of crucial conversations providing an insightful contribution to current discussions. The paper does not stand alone in its desire to critically interrogate what meaningful and sustainable lived experience work can look like for PWCRs, and readers are encouraged to read about the Imagining Possible Futures Project (2024) and engage with other critical discussions of the role and nature of lived experience work in contemporary society (see inter alia Brierley and Dennehy, 2025; Sharma, 2025).
The changing nature of lived experience work
The late twentieth century saw a considerable shift towards recognising the value of experiential insight when improving services and policies, particularly within the fields of disability, mental health, addiction, and criminal justice (Bovaird et al., 2015; Buck et al., 2022). Often referred to as ‘participatory’ practice or the ‘co-production’ of knowledge (Cunningham and Wakeling, 2022; Weaver, 2018), such work has provided opportunities for stigmatised individuals to secure work by actively drawing on their life experiences. Within the field of criminal justice, this movement has led to the expansion of peer-led projects (Tomczak and Buck, 2019), the active recruitment of people with lived experience on advisory boards (see Criminal Justice Alliance, 2024), and the creation of user-led organisations such as User Voice and Unlock (Cunningham and Wakeling, 2022). In these contexts, individuals take on a ‘Professional Ex’ identity, positioning themselves as experts and legitimising their involvement in particular professions by actively drawing on their past engagement with the criminal justice system (Brown, 1991; Cherney and Fitzgerald, 2016; Harding, 2003; Maruna, 2001). This form of identity management is an act of inversion or, as Buck (2019: 353) calls it, ‘stylistic rebellion’, whereby the stigmatising attribute is turned into a unique resource.
There are profound benefits to lived experience work. On an individual level, these opportunities can support people to move away from more harmful pasts and provide a sense of belonging and connection, enabling them to draw on their traumatic pasts in meaningful ways (Buck et al., 2022). Lived experience work can also help people to reconcile feelings of guilt and shame by contributing positively to society (Antojado and McPhee, 2024). Indeed, it has been argued that the proactive sharing of one's offending history enables individuals to ‘assert a greater sense of mastery’ over their stigmatised identity, allowing for greater agency overall (Cherney and Fitzgerald, 2016: 19). In turn, this gives people a sense of autonomy and increased self-esteem, supporting social integration, well-being, and economic and social mobility (Hwang and Phillips, 2024). Beyond the individual, the move to co-production is a means to contest dominant ways of thinking about, and responding to, social issues, strengthening the role of experiential knowledge, and shifting power-dynamics between professionals and experts and those with lived experience (Beresford, 2013; Parr, 2023).
However, modern-day employment structures are increasingly precarious, and individuals are increasingly pushed towards entrepreneurial and highly visible forms of labour. Individuals are required to self-brand and self-promote to craft a professional online self (Gandini, 2016; Weisi and Hajizadeh, 2025), and business and organisations are encouraged to have an online presence for brand building and public engagement. This performance takes place in online spaces such as LinkedIn, and success stories are carefully selected and framed to promote a sense of achievement and profound impact (Brierley and Dennehy, 2025). This is changing the nature of lived experience work in several ways. First, someone positioning themselves as an expert in digital spaces must curate a ‘unique and authentic image to be sold on the labour market’ (Gandini, 2016: 125). In doing so, lived experience is commodified, turned into an asset which can be bought and sold as a product in a market (Eriksson, 2023; Parr, 2023). The specific life experience(s) of the individual becomes their Unique Selling Point – the central aspect of their professional identity (Scharff, 2016), and people are able to self-brand as experiential and/or lived experience activists, consultants, educators, and speakers (see Orgad, 2025).
This paper does not seek to discredit or criticise those who are engaging with lived experience work, and it is not the author's intention to dismiss or undermine the positive impact lived experience work can have on individuals and society. Nonetheless, this contemporary shift to highly visible and entrepreneurial forms of drawing on experiential insight for work requires careful consideration, and this paper seeks to prompt further critical discussion and research.
Discussion
Lived experience capital and telling the ‘right’ kind of story
Recent statistics reveal that approximately 1 in 4 people of working age have a criminal record in England and Wales (Ministry of Justice, 2024). Importantly, PWCRs constitute a highly diverse group of people; from individuals serving life sentences, to individuals with criminal records for minor and/or historical cautions and convictions. Recognising the diversity of this group, this first section seeks to explore the question of who is able to engage with contemporary forms of highly visible and entrepreneurial lived experience work.
Literature exploring entrepreneurialism as an alternative career pathway for PWCRs has identified three forms of required capital: 1) financial, 2) human, and 3) social or cultural (Hwang, 2022; Irankunda et al., 2020; Kim et al., 2006). Financial capital refers to economic resources, sources of which include; personal funds, economic support from social networks, and financial backing through government funds and bank loans (Hwang, 2022). Human capital refers to education and skills such as economic literacy and managerial experience (ibid.). Finally, social or cultural capital refers to personal and professional networks which often bring with them financial investment and support (ibid.). For people engaging with lived experience work, social capital is often accumulated over time through self-branding and self-promotion on social media (see above).
Alongside these forms of capital, this paper puts forward that individuals engaging with lived experience work require narrative capital to construct and deploy a socially permissible account of their past. When shared with others, narratives are often judged on how well they adhere to socially prescribed meta-narratives (Fleetwood, 2016; Harding et al., 2016). Indeed, ‘the ex-prisoners dilemma […] involves trying to prove to employers and others in their social world that “I am not now who I was then”’ (Toch, 2010; cited in Maruna 2012: 75). Subsequently, PWCRs have to ‘prove’ themselves to others to have their claims around personal change and rehabilitation validated (see Grace, 2022; Kurtovic, 2017). Those who are able to construct life stories in line with culturally acceptable narrative formats and tropes, and are able to convince others of their agentic change and personal growth, have higher degrees of what Goodson (2013: 4) refers to as ‘narrative capital’.
When taking these forms of capital together, and taking into consideration the diversity of PWCRs, it becomes clear that only very few individuals have the necessary resources to carve space for themselves in this field of work. For example, prison-leavers often experience considerable difficulty securing financial loans from government funding and banks (Hwang, 2022; Unlock, 2024) and have limited human and social capital as a consequence of their incarceration (Hwang, 2022; Hwang and Phillips, 2024). However, these forms of capital are fundamental when embarking on activities like freelance consultancy work or setting up community interest companies. Indeed, as argued by Robinson and Fernhaber (2024), whilst formerly incarcerated individuals are increasingly driven towards entrepreneurialism due to labour market exclusion, society is not set up to support them. Whilst people with minor and/or historical cautions and convictions also experience significant issues with securing financial support and managing personal and professional networks due to their criminal records (Collett, 2024), they may not experience the same levels of financial insecurity and social isolation as formerly incarcerated individuals.
However, those who have experienced incarceration may have greater narrative capital than those who have not. Individuals who have engaged with the criminal justice system are expected to narrate their experiences adhering to discourse around redemption and rehabilitation (Warr, 2019; Warr, 2022). These narratives are most suited to those who have been convicted of more serious offences and can be seen to have paid their debt to society before actively moving on from their past (Maruna, 2001, 2012). Furthermore, the experiences of prison-leavers dominate the field of criminal and social justice work as there is limited recognition of the long-term collateral consequences of minor and/or historical cautions and convictions (Collett, 2024). Similarly, there is greater awareness of how people in prison are likely to have experienced other forms of harm and/or victimisation leading up to their interaction(s) with the criminal justice system. This means that people who have experienced incarceration are seen to have greater authenticity and credibility to speak on criminal justice matters, and wider social issues such as poverty and deprivation, and addiction and mental health. In contrast, the experiences of those who have not been incarcerated are excluded from dominant discourse and thus, they do not have the same narrative capital to speak on issues of social (in)justice, rehabilitation, reintegration, and inclusion. They occupy a liminal space – ‘criminal’ enough to be stigmatised and discriminated against in the labour market, but not ‘criminal’ enough to speak on criminal and social justice issues. These individuals may face what Fricker (2007) refers to as epistemic injustice, unable to contribute evenly to the collective understanding of what it is to be a formerly justice-involved individual, and to navigate life with the stigma of a criminal record.
Importantly, other factors such as the nature of the offence can also make a considerable difference to the accumulation of capital. People convicted of financial crimes are likely to have reduced financial capital, experiencing considerable difficulty when applying for government funding and bank loans (Unlock, 2024). When considering social and narrative capital, those convicted of more stigmatising offences are likely to experience greater social isolation and face greater difficulty constructing a socially permissible account of their past. For example, people convicted of sexual offences are often labelled as predatory ‘monsters’ despite there being great variation in the nature of the crimes committed, resulting in considerable public hostility (Tovey et al., 2023: 669). Seen as irredeemable by the public, these individuals face significant labour market discrimination and social isolation (DeLuca et al., 2018; Evans and Cubellis, 2015; Porter and Meridian, 2025). Indeed, there is a distinct lack of public discourse regarding the rehabilitated sexual offender, and society lacks ‘a language for desistance regarding sexual offending’ (Sandbukt, 2023; 634). This means they have very limited narrative capital and are likely to face greater difficulty when trying to draw on their lived experiences for work.
This discussion of capital raises questions regarding the potentially exclusionary nature of this work. Earlier in the paper it was noted that the move to co-production and lived experience can contest dominant ways of thinking about, and responding to, social issues, ensuring that disempowered groups are not ‘othered’ by experts (Beresford, 2013; Parr, 2023). However, if only very few have the necessary capital to engage in this work, and narrative capital in particular is largely dependent on one's ability to share a socially permissible account of one's past, then there is a limit to the extent to which this work can be representative of PWCRs. There is a danger that those who do not fit these rather narrow societal expectations will experience further ‘othering’, unable to engage with the socio-political discourses which, supposedly, represent their lives.
The crafting of a simultaneously authentic and professional online self
People engaging with lived experience work have to position themselves as simultaneously authentic, credible, and professional, in order to speak on the issues at hand (Voronka, 2019). They must share personal accounts demonstrating to others that they have the necessary experiential insight whilst simultaneously not being seen as ‘too close to the problem’ and thus, unable to remain objective or neutral (Beresford, 2013:146). Voronka (2015) refers to this careful negotiation of authenticity and professionalism as ‘bridge work’, and this careful management of competing identities (e.g. victim, former offender, professional) requires a considerable amount of narrative labour (Warr, 2019, 2022). This can be particularly challenging for certain groups of people. For example, it is widely recognised that women often experience poor mental health, domestic abuse, sexual assault, and/or substance abuse prior to their offending (Bloom et al., 2004; Katz, 2000), blurring the boundaries between ‘victim’ and ‘offender’ (Pollack, 2007). In addition, women often face greater stigma when compared to their male counterparts, even when they have committed similar offences (Barlow, 2015; Grace, 2022; Unlock, 2021; Worrall, 1990). This means that, when sharing personal accounts, women are required to engage with highly gendered meta-narratives which often centre on overcoming vulnerability and trauma (Bald et al., 2022; Fleetwood, 2015; Hart, 2017). They are compared to the ‘ideal victim’ when doing so, and are required to demonstrate that they have taken control of their circumstances and developed resilience in the process (Christie, 1986; Hart, 2017; Pollack, 2007; Rutter and Barr, 2021). As highlighted by Corcoran (2006: 191) ‘women are, or are expected to be, exemplary self-governing citizens and highly self-surveilling with respect to various norms of “femininity”’. Indeed, researching vulnerability narratives on professional sites such as LinkedIn, Orgad (2025) found that women can draw on personal stories of struggle and hardship, as long as the narrative concludes with overcoming, personal growth, resilience, and learning.
This reconciliation of identity and subsequent management of self requires considerable emotional labour. Hochschild (1983, 2001) describes emotional labour as the careful management of behaviour and emotion, and this often involves the suppressing of personal feelings in order to display socially expected emotional responses. However, this management of personal narrative and emotions can lead to frustration and a disrupted or uncertain sense of self, particularly when personal understandings of self do not match societal expectations (Warr, 2019). One such example may be women who do not identify as victims, but find there are very few alternative ‘narrative repertoires’ available for them (see Fleetwood, 2015). Furthermore, it is also increasingly acknowledged that criminal record disclosure can be highly emotional, prompting people to re-live past harm and trauma (Berkley et al., 2019; Stamper, 2020). Exploring the experiences of individuals engaging with lived experience work in the voluntary sector, Buck et al., (2022) highlight the highly complex emotional dynamics involved in using personal experience in these contexts. They note that, whilst this work can be experienced as therapeutic and empowering, it can also be retraumatising and shame-provoking (ibid.).
What is yet to be considered is how this careful management of a simultaneously authentic, credible, and professional identity takes place online for contemporary lived experience work. Bullingham and Vasconcelos (2013) explain that the curation and maintenance of an online identity is an interactional process – an act of communication to an online audience. People actively decide how to represent themselves, placing emphasis on some aspects of their identity in a process of ‘impression management’ to control the audiences’ perceptions of them (ibid., 103). Specifically, the curation of a stable and coherent online narrative becomes increasingly important as the labour market becomes more precarious and fragmented (Gershon, 2017). However, this demand for stable and coherent narratives is problematic because this is at odds with the very nature of personal narratives. Personal narratives are temporal constructions, unfolding, and evolving over time (Harding et al., 2016). People may develop new understandings which may be contradictory to old, using hindsight to make sense of things anew (Freeman, 2010; Harding et al., 2016). Indeed, as noted by Frankco at the network launch event (see above), the term ‘living experience’ more accurately captures how PWCRs continue to have their lives shaped by their prior criminal justice engagement. Furthermore it has been noted that such pressure to maintain continuity and adhere to socially permissible meta-narratives can lead to embellished narratives over time (Bullingham and Vasconcelos, 2013). This may be exacerbated for PWCRs whose narratives are already placed under excessive scrutiny (see above). Finally, the permanence of online narratives can present particular issues for PWCRs. Once posted on social media sites like LinkedIn, online personas are not easily removed or forgotten, and businesses and organisations – often with good intentions – often publicly advertise and praise their lived experience speakers with the inclusion of names and photographs. In his discussion around digital permanence and narrative injustice, Warr (2024) highlights how individuals are often encouraged to, and celebrated for, sharing their personal experiences in public with limited consideration of how this may ‘trap’ individuals within a testimony they may later wish to deny or escape (Corda and Lageson, 2020).
The market of lived experience
Eriksson (2023) discusses the permeation of market logic into the practice of user involvement, noting that it causes individuals to become restricted in their pursuit of societal change. In his critical and self-reflective discussion of co-production, Ferguson (2021: 12) highlighted that those with lived experience may feel there are certain expectations of them, and that organisational influences can ‘distort’ or filter’ their contributions. Similarly, researching lived experience work in the PVS, Quinn and Goodman (2023: 998) assert that, ‘there are significant pressures for criminalised individuals to perform narrative labour to align themselves with organisational understandings…’. This has been referred to by scholars such as Ferguson (2021) and Brierley and Dennehy (2025) as ‘hidden harm’. Similarly, Buck (2019) notes that individuals engaging with lived experience work can be co-opted or moulded into the kinds of professionals organisations seek to work with, moderating their articulation of their lived experiences to be deemed appropriate. This raises concerns over lived experience work being conditional upon being ‘suitably grateful and conformist’ (Buck, 2019: 361). Gosling (2010: 34) notes that, for the lived experience worker, ‘involvement is often a conditional invitation to join someone else's ball game where rules and goal posts are already set’. People have to ‘play ball’, ‘be on [their] best behaviour’, and ensure that they do not ‘upset anyone’ or cause too much disruption (ibid.).
One consequence of this is that, once commodified, lived experience narratives may reproduce common perceptions and replicate existing organisational and social structures, rather than make radical change and improve social conditions (Voronka, 2019). In their critical discussion of the ‘rehabilitation industry’, Brierley and Dennehy (2025: 317) argue that people with lived experience have become ‘key players’ in maintaining deeply problematic practices through careful and selective presentation of experience. Cautious not to direct their criticism at the individuals who take part in this work, they argue that this is a consequence of the highly marketised and performative nature of the institutions within which they operate (ibid.). Similarly, Eriksson (2023) warns that, once commodified, people can lose control of their narratives as they are shaped to institutional needs. In this sense, the narrator sells their lived experience to an organisation who then uses it to add value and legitimacy, and/or generate profit (ibid.). When this happens, the personal experiences shared contributes to upholding dominant narratives instead of acting as critical and transformative interjections. Drawing on Fricker's (2007) discussion of epistemic injustice (see above), Warr (2024) discusses this coopting of narrative, alongside digital permanency (discussed earlier in this paper), as a further form of unethical ‘narrative injustice’, ultimately silencing and constraining marginalised voices further. Taking a particularly critical view, Appiah (2020: npn) asserted that, ‘if lived experience was once viewed as a way to speak truth to power, power has learned to speak lived experience with remarkable fluency’. Indeed, Gosling (2010) noted that lived experience can be ‘hijacked’ by service providers and organisations, and Parr (2023) highlighted how marginalised voices can become co-opted as a way to legitimise government or organisation strategies. This undermines the political activism which these voices often stem from (Parr, 2023). Voronka (2019) highlights how losing control over one's story by moulding it to market demands and expected scripts can lead to alienation from the self.
Another consequence of this which is yet to be discussed in the literature is the impact this has on integration and career progression for those engaging with lived experience work. When the emphasis is placed on one's ability to share a life story in a meaningful and impactful way, individuals become valued for their story, not their skill-set or personal attributes. Indeed, discussions of ‘trauma porn’ and the fetishisation of lived experience have drawn attention to how peoples’ personal stories are often used to shock others and elicit an emotional response (see Brierley and Dennehy 2025; Buck et al., 2020; Yeo et al., 2022). This can lead to people with experiential insight being kept in roles such as ‘guest speaker’, limiting their ability to progress to more senior, influential roles. This was discussed in detail at the network launch event with lived experience attendees and speakers referring to it as the ‘glass ceiling’ of lived experience. As a group we reflected on the potential implications of this, agreeing that an absense of representation at a senior level can be a considerable barrier to meaningful change and the realisation of professional selves.
This paper has explored the complexities and challenges of highly visible, often entrepreneurial, lived experience work in the contemporary labour market. It has highlighted how issues of credibility denial, emotional exploitation, and narrative sanitisation can devalue and undermine the individual and social good of such work. As the paper draws to a close, it is important to acknowledge that such challenges exist in policy and research settings also. Indeed, it has been argued that, without careful consideration of what ethical participatory practice looks like, policy initiatives which include the perspectives of people with lived experience can actually result in social harm, creating barriers to dismantling oppressive social structures whilst appearing, on the surface, to work towards this end (see Brierley and Dennehy, 2025; Sharma, 2025; Weaver, 2018, 2022). In their recently published edited collection on Generative Justice, McNeill et al., (2026) discuss the conditions which facilitate the building of meaningful, reciprocal, solidaristic relationships, putting forward that these are fundamental to projects and practices which seek to contribute towards positive social and individual change. They outline seven common features of Generative Justice – moral recognition, communication of worth and hope, material provision and exchange, social connection, reciprocal concern, collective effort, and change beyond the individual – providing a framework for the ‘re-imagining of justice’ and further interrogation of participatory activities (ibid.). Similarly, the Experience of Justice Collective (E4J) – ‘an independent and unaffiliated’ group made up predominantly justice affected activists, researchers and practitioners – highlight the importance of relationships, reciprocity, and inclusion, arguing that radical change is needed to make collective social progress and dismantle harmful power inequalities between so-called experts and people with lived experience (Kidd et al., 2025). Furthermore, reflecting on the realities of current research environments, E4J highlight how barriers to research funding, unequal research training, and unremunerated peer review processes can lead to direct and indirect discrimination of people with lived experience from these spaces. Whilst Generative Justice and E4J are still, by their own admissions, at the early stages of development, they offer important contributions to the field of lived experience work in research and policy settings. These highlighted works give reason to be hopeful about the future of lived experience work but, as noted by Kidd et al. (2025), only time will tell.
Conclusion
This paper offers a critical discussion of contemporary, highly visible forms of lived experience work. Specifically, the paper has explored 1) who has the necessary culmination of capital to engage with such work, 2) how this work is sustained over time via the online curation of a simultaneously professional and authentic identity, and 3) how this experiential insight is engaged with by businesses and organisations. A limitation of this paper is that it does not offer empirical data to provide evidence-based insight into the experiences of people engaging with this work. Nonetheless, a synthesis of a number of incredibly important discussions, the paper identifies several key ethical considerations for contemporary lived experience work which, unless addressed, will continue to keep PWCRs mastering life on the periphery as opposed to providing mechanisms to overcome social exclusion.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Frankco Harris and Adam Ali for their contributions at the network launch which laid the foundation for subsequent discussions and this paper. Thanks also to Gill Buck for your thoughts and support when writing this paper.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
