Beyond the Hoodie: Behaviour, Bias, and the Danger of Surface Judgements.

In alternative education, we work with young people who are frequently misunderstood. Many are high-functioning individuals with additional needs — ADHD, autism, anxiety, PTSD, and a range of social, emotional, and mental health (SEMH) challenges. These students are navigating a world that often fails to accommodate them and is quick to misjudge them.

One pattern emerges time and again: perception often matters more than behaviour. A teenager wearing a hoodie, speaking with slang, or showing visible emotion is more likely to be labelled as disrespectful or defiant — while the same behaviours, dressed in a suit or seen in a different social context, are accepted, excused, or even admired.

It’s time to confront these double standards. We must ask ourselves: are we really responding to behaviour — or to the assumptions we’ve attached to someone’s appearance?

1. Society’s Double Standards: Who Gets to “Let Off Steam”?

Take a common example: swearing. It’s not something we actively promote — but in reality, it’s embedded in everyday language. One of our students was recently challenged by an adult for swearing in casual conversation with a peer on their lunch break. It wasn’t directed at anyone, nor was it aggressive. Yet the disapproval was instant.

This isn’t unusual. When a teenager in a hoodie uses a swear word, it’s often perceived as anti-social, threatening, or dangerous. But consider how that same behaviour is treated elsewhere.

Imagine two men in suits, standing outside a pub after work, laughing and swearing as they recount the pressures of the day. Would anyone intervene?

Or a group of women on a Saturday afternoon at brunch — swearing loudly in celebration. Would it be labelled disruptive? Or simply part of the fun and a girl’s night out?

The language is the same. The emotional expression is the same. What changes is how society reads the scene — and more importantly, who’s in it. For our students, particularly those with unseen needs, these moments don’t get the benefit of the doubt. Their appearance shapes the assumptions people make before they’ve even spoken.

So, are we policing behaviour, or policing identity?

2. Sport and Emotion: When It’s Allowed vs When It’s Punished

The contrast becomes even more stark in sport — where emotional expression is often not only accepted but celebrated.

Our students play sports, and like many others, they get frustrated. They miss a shot, shout, or swear in the heat of the moment. It’s not targeted or aggressive — it’s a release. Yet this is often met with harsh criticism from the public. They’re told to calm down. Show respect. Act properly.

But what happens when similar behaviour plays out on national television?

In football, players like Jude Bellingham and Cole Palmer — national heroes — are regularly caught swearing during matches. It’s high-pressured, fast-paced, emotionally charged. But the response? “That’s passion.” “It shows he cares.”

In golf — a sport widely associated with privilege and refinement — Sergio Garcia smashed his driver into the ground at the Open Championship, snapping it in half after a poor tee shot. He played the rest of the round without it. Rory Mcilroy at the recent Golf Masters swearing at the fans. No outrage followed. His frustration was seen as part of the game, chalked up to pressure and passion.

In tennis, another sport wrapped in tradition and wealth, racket smashing has almost become normal. During the 2023 Wimbledon final, Novak Djokovic was fined for smashing his racket against the net post — but there was no media storm. Earlier that same tournament, Daniil Medvedev and Jack Draper also destroyed rackets in frustration. The tone of coverage? Sympathetic. Understandable. Competitive spirit.

So why is it that when a 15-year-old with ADHD expresses frustration in a kickabout, it becomes a behaviour issue — but when millionaire athletes do it on a global stage, it's reframed as passion and drive?

The answer lies in perception — shaped by class, culture, and clothing. The standards are not equal.

Clothing does not determine character.

It’s remarkable, and troubling, how quickly young people are judged based on what they wear. This isn’t about noise or language. It’s about how we treat people based on the boxes we’ve put them in. These snap judgements do real damage. They reinforce exclusion. They silence vulnerability. And they tell young people — especially those who don’t fit the mould — that they are not welcome.

At our provision, students wearing hoodies, tracksuits, or sportswear are regularly stared at in public, told off for minor behaviours, or assumed to be threatening — even when they’re simply walking, talking, or joking with friends. For many of them, these clothes are a comfort. A sense of identity. A shield in a world that already makes them feel excluded.

If ADHD looked like a broken arm, or if trauma came with a visible marker, would people pause before criticising these young people? Would they listen more carefully? Respond with more patience? Clothing doesn’t determine character; and a hoodie should never decide how much empathy someone receives.

Many of our students are fighting battles no one can see. Their behaviour is often a response — not a rebellion. Their expressions of frustration are rarely about disrespect — and almost always about something deeper: emotion, exhaustion, or not feeling safe.

In alternative education, we’re trained to look beneath the surface. To recognise what’s really going on. To lead with empathy — not assumption.

Our hope is that society can start doing the same.