The Impact of Bias, Communication and Language

Sam, now 13 years old and having been in care for 3 years, has learnt three vital lessons. The first is that the thing called ‘care’ is not consistent, the second is that ‘forever families’ don’t exist, and in 2 years' time, he will learn that it is impermanent. This is a stark contrast to what is being communicated: his workers explain to him the importance of permanent relationships and finding him a forever home, whilst producing the opposite. He is constantly changing workers, moving from family to family, and at 15 years old finds himself living in bed and breakfast accommodation, alongside adults who rarely leave their room due to the weight of their trauma.

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There is an unspoken expectation for Sam to just be able to adapt to these changes and be unfazed by the oxymoronic idea of ‘being in care’. Quite simply, what care communicates, it does the opposite. For Sam, the system is a lie, filled with people operating in a delusion that it can provide care, and when it doesn’t, deindividualisation excuses any individual accountability.

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Sam was late home one day and his foster carer became worried. She called the social worker and they said to call the police, ‘it’s just procedure’ they said. The foster carer uneasily picked up the phone to call 999, it felt as if the harshness of this call outweighed the situation – but they ignored this feeling, after all, it’s important to follow ‘procedure’. Shortly after the phone call to the police, Sam returned home, just over an hour late. The police arrived frustrated and let this be known to Sam, a 12-year-old spoken to like a criminal whose crime was having an extra hour of fun with his friends. In Sam’s next meeting, he reads a note that says: ‘high risk of absconding’. Unfortunately, Sam’s placement broke down, due to this misrepresentation and many others like it, it was hard to find Sam a foster placement as what they read about him deems him too ‘high risk’.

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The plan for Sam changes; the consistent narrative that was once to find him a ‘forever home’ evolves into Sam being ‘unfosterable’, and the system decides that a foster placement isn’t the ‘best option’. This pivot in his trajectory is communicated as something Sam is responsible for, a seismic shift in systemic action the result of normal childish behaviour, coupled with the finger of blame, shame, and disappointment firmly pointed at Sam.

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Sam arrived at a 4-bedroom residential assessment centre where 3 other kids live. The house has cameras; he believes that someone is constantly watching and this is part of the assessment. The house has a food rota and staff timetable, with Sam’s ‘key worker’ there 2 days a week. If Sam requests anything outside of these 2 days, the response he gets is: ‘you’ll have to wait for your key worker to come in’. Sam is assigned pocket money based on his age and must sign for it and explain what he plans to spend the money on. Sam stays at the centre for 18 weeks even though he was only told it would be 6. The assessment has been done but Sam doesn’t know how because he wasn’t asked any questions. He assumes that they made a judgement based on what they had seen on the cameras and discussed in secret meetings.

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As a parting gift from the centre, Sam was given a criminal record. It seemed the system was unprepared to respond to Sam’s bottled sadness, and when it inevitably erupted, they also didn’t recognise his need for compassion and safety either. Instead, the workers in the system are taught to restrain when they feel it is appropriate for their safety, however, the boundaries of what is ‘appropriate for their safety’ were never communicated to Sam. What the workers must not have known is when you pin Sam down, with your knee in his back and face on the ground, that this is what his stepfather did. The forceful hands of a male worker, triggering the rage of painful memories of the dehumanising abuse he received as a child. Sam is told that kicking and damaging a door, throwing a glass picture of his family across the room, and his harrowing screams of fear while he is pinned down, is considered violent behaviour and criminal damage. The worker fills in a report, they followed the right process, and the system excuses any collateral, leaving Sam to process something much deeper than paperwork. This was the ‘right way’ to do things after all; the system doesn’t concern itself with the ‘right thing’.

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Finally, Sam is given a foster placement, the promise of a ‘forever home’ has finally arrived. At 15 years old a senior manager tells him he is the ‘guinea pig’ for a new ‘programme’ from the USA; Treatment Foster Care. This is for children who display the highest needs, involved in criminal activity, have issues with substance misuse, and come from very damaged homes. In the context of Sam’s experience, the system must deem being late home, kicking doors, and having a loving but vulnerable mother as prerequisites for this. The plan is to remove all of Sam’s freedoms and he must adhere to a points system to have them returned. He enters the home naked of identity, no promise of belonging, and a points system that means if he brushes his teeth in the morning, eats his breakfast, and washes the dishes - he just might earn enough points to credit a supervised call with his mum. Sam breaks free from this prison after 6 months of its oppression and obscurity, and the system ‘runs out of options’.

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A service manager explains to Sam’s social worker that she must tell this 15-year-old young boy that it is ‘his responsibility to find somewhere to stay tonight’. Loaded with her anger and pain towards the system, and those equipped with its power of attorney, she explains to Sam with precision the illegality of this request. There is a ‘duty of care’ handed down from the ivory towers of Parliament, that due to a unfollowing is resulting in a young Sam being homeless on the cold streets below. With intention, she writes in Sam’s case notes, verbatim, the words of the manager and tells Sam he must access his notes; she needs Sam to understand that this was not her decision. This social worker believed in Sam, and Sam realised for the first time that these people were as powerless as he was. With only his school uniform and bag, Sam steps out and closes the door of his social worker's car. He doesn’t see the tears that rolled from her eyes or the letter of resignation she goes on to write.

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The actions of an Assistant Director find Sam bed & breakfast accommodation. He observes as the owner of this accommodation invites girls who also live there into his private quarters. He opens the door to welcome paramedics coming to take away those who attempt suicide. This is his independence. He is gifted ￡56 per week, a home of trauma and broken promises. Although age defines him as someone ‘in care’, no one comes to care for Sam. His friend's parents buy him a microwave, a kettle, and a minifridge as the system must have forgotten these were needed. Sam now has the resources to make super noodles, pay for his bus ticket to school to do his GCSEs, and sometimes has money left over for the laundry service.

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Sam reflects on his time in care. He remembers all the people who said: ‘your views are important’ and the written pledges to ‘listen to your views and act’. He knows now, the important views and actions were those of the system, a place where boxes are ticked to remove accountability. This system was not set up to care, it has no power to help and Sam is not the only person who knows this; it is the knowledge of every single person who works in it. In some way, this common allyship comforts Sam as he recognises that everyone wants to provide care, but nobody can. This comfort will of course be written down as a ‘protective factor’ by a psychologist who will later unpick Sam’s trauma with him. They will also suggest to Sam that his trauma with his parents is the reason for most of his challenges today. An ignorance and bias that the ‘care system’ couldn’t have possibly caused any damage, after all it is there to ‘safeguard’.

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It is my belief we will never escape the bias, communication, and language this system so resiliently reserves – but we will always have the power to choose how we define it and how it impacts us.

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Changing words will not change worlds.