Why Who You Are Matters: Understanding Positionality in Outdoor Play

 

“Play is a very misused adult word. To a child it is a way of life.” – Jean-Jacques Rousseau 

 

When we think about children playing outside, we might picture children running through a forest, jumping in puddles, or building forts out of sticks. Play seems simple, but there's more going on than meets the eye.

Outdoor play helps children grow, learn, and connect with the world around them. Play is the universal language and expression of childhood. As adults, (parents, educators, and other practitioners), we hold intense power over children's play opportunities, and can literally and metaphorically act as gate keepers or gate openers to children's play. But here’s something we don’t always talk about: the way we support children's play depends a lot on who we are and where we come from. This is called positionality.

What Is Positionality?

Positionality means being aware of your own social identity and life experiences—things like your race, culture, gender, class, sexuality, or where you grew up—and understanding how these things shape the way you see the world.

These perspectives aren't right or wrong—but they matter. They influence how we see children, how we judge risk, and how we support play.

Why Positionality Matters in Outdoor Play

When adults support children in outdoor play, we bring our own beliefs, experiences, and values into that space. That means our sociocultural background—our community, traditions, and the systems that shaped us—affects how we understand play.

For example:

• A teacher who grew up with a lot of freedom outside might believe children should climb trees and get dirty within their learning environment.

• Another adult might worry more about safety, especially if they come from a community where outdoor play wasn't always safe.

If we’re not aware of our positionality, we might limit children’s experiences without meaning to. But when we are aware, we can create more fair and open environments where all children can explore and learn in their own ways.

My Own Positionality

To understand how I think about play, it’s important to know who I am and where I come from.

I am a white, queer, cisgender woman and a settler born and raised on the island of Ktaqmkuk (Newfoundland), which is the traditional, unceded territory of the Beothuk and the Mi’kmaq peoples. I am also a mother of two children, who teach me about the power of play every day. Right now, I am a middle-class, educated adult—but I was once a child who lived in poverty, and those early life experiences are still a part of who I am.

I spent my early childhood in an “outport” fishing village, a small community outside of St. John’s. Life there was full of freedom and play. We roamed the woods, ran along shorelines, searched for kittens in the fog, and imagined whole worlds together. While we were playing, the adults were working—hunting, fishing, chopping wood, and living off the land.

But life wasn’t simple. There was also pain—family struggles, hidden trauma, and hardship. When I was eight, my parents separated and we moved to the city into social housing. Life changed. My mother worried more about our safety. There were fears about gangs and drugs in the neighborhood. Outdoor play suddenly became something dangerous—not something free.

This shift was hard. Looking back, I see that both the joy and the pain shaped me. The freedom I had in the bay helped me become creative and strong. The loss and the trauma taught me to notice who has access to play—and who doesn’t. That’s why, today, I care deeply about making outdoor play possible for all children, especially those from communities that face barriers or risks.

I bring all of these pieces of myself into my work as an educator. My understanding of play comes from these lived experiences, and from the intersections of class, gender, race, family, and community. Play, to me, is not just fun. It’s survival. It’s healing. It’s resistance. And every child deserves access to that kind of power.

What Needs to be Unlearned

Understanding positionality also means unlearning some ideas we’ve picked up over time—especially ideas that come from systems of power, privilege, or fear. Here are a few common beliefs we may need to question:

• “There’s one right way to play.”
  Some people believe play should always be structured, calm, or guided by adults. But children play in many ways—messy, loud, quiet, creative, rough—and all of them have value.

• “Outdoor play isn’t safe unless adults control it.”
  While safety is important, too much control can stop children from learning how to take healthy risks and solve problems on their own.

• “The children I work with don't know how to play.”
  Sometimes, in schools and community-based programs, children from certain communities are given more structure, rules and behavior control instead of opportunities to play freely. This happens not because of what children need, but because of adult bias or unfair beliefs. Every child, no matter their background, needs time to explore, imagine, and move through play. Play is not a reward—it’s a right.

• “My way of playing as a child was the best way.”
  It’s easy to believe our own childhood experience is the “normal” one. But everyone’s story is different. We must stay open to the idea that play looks different in every culture, every family, and every community.

By unlearning these ideas, we can make more room for children’s voices, creativity, and dignity.

Sociocultural Identity Shapes How We Support Play

Everyone brings different life experiences into the classroom or playground. Your social location—whether you’ve experienced racism, ableism, classism, or other forms of oppression—shapes how you understand what children need.

Some educators and parents might:

• Worry about safety because they know the risks children face in certain neighborhoods.

• Be unsure how to assess and then accommodate the real needs and barriers that certain communities face.
  

• Feel unsure about letting children explore freely because they were taught to always follow strict rules.

• See play as healing and important because they lacked it growing up.

When we recognize this, we can have important dialogue within communities about access and accommodation. We can also challenge our own assumptions, and make sure we aren’t projecting our fears or limits onto children. We can ask ourselves:

• What beliefs do I carry about play?

• Where did those beliefs come from?

• How might my experiences be different from the children I’m supporting?

Play Is Not One-Size-Fits-All

Not all children have the same access to safe, free play. Some children live in areas with fewer green spaces. Some have parents who work long hours. Others live with trauma or fear, and outdoor play may not feel safe or easy.

That’s why it’s important to bring a justice-based lens to outdoor play. Play should not be a privilege for some—it’s a right for all. Understanding our own positionality helps us see these barriers and work to break them down.

Knowing Ourselves, Supporting Others

To truly support children in outdoor play, we need to do some work on ourselves. We need to ask:
Who am I? Where do I come from? How do my experiences shape what I believe about play and learning?

By reflecting on these questions—and unlearning some of the beliefs we’ve been taught—we become better educators, caregivers, and allies. We stop assuming that our way is the only way. And we start listening to children, to families, and to communities with different stories than our own.

Play isn’t a nice-to-have- it’s a crucial part of childhood. When adults understand their own positionality and biases, they can create environments where every child’s identity and background are respected, ensuring that all children have equal access to the benefits of play.