Becoming a Social Worker

Viviene E. Cree

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2022
• eBook ISBN: 9781000582727
• Edition: 3
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Health Care Delivery
• Index: Social Sciences

This fully revised new edition of Becoming a Social Worker is made up of entirely new stories. Providing a 'glocal' frame of reference, the book describes the personal and professional narratives of a diverse range of people working in social work in the UK, what brought them into the field and what has kept them in it ever since.

The lively accounts reveal what it is like to be a social worker in a range of practice settings today and, at the same time, demonstrate that commitment and passion remain at the heart of social work. Some contributors will be recognised as people who have played a key part in shaping social work over the years; they provide insights into how the profession has developed over time. Other contributors, less well known but no less interesting, give a vivid account of the ongoing challenges that social work education and practice face, and the values that underpin social work. Social work is a demanding and difficult job that goes largely unseen within society. We only ever hear about social work and social workers when something goes wrong and a vulnerable adult or child is hurt. Becoming a Social Worker sets out to change that – to make social work visible, so that those considering a career in the caring professions across the world can make an informed choice about whether social work is the career for them.

It is relevant for all induction courses at the beginning and prior to coming on social work programmes including all relevant HNC and HND courses as well as preparation for practice courses on all undergraduate and postgraduate social work programmes.

1My darkness, my light

Ahmina Akhtar

DOI: 10.4324/9781003181989-2

I was drawn to social work as a result of my turbulent childhood. My mother migrated to England from Pakistan in her mid to late teens in order to marry. She was unable to speak English or did not have relevant papers; her age had probably been inflated so that domestic restrictions on marriage could be bypassed. She had lost her own mother and many siblings whilst only a toddler and was therefore vulnerable to exploitation by an extended family spanning both countries. Five years later, with two small children and being five months pregnant, her husband died. My mother was then given help, financially, by her father-in-law, but he too passed away three years later. Her mother-in-law arrived in the UK to offer support, but not having a male figure in a strongly patriarchal community was to have long-term negative consequences. Both my mother and grandmother had a minimal grasp of English, which meant that integrating into the British way of life was challenging. This was made worse by the fact that they were part of a ghettoised community. My mother continued to hold on to the traditions and values of her homeland, despite being perceived as having a lower social standing, due to not having a male figurehead and a limited support network.

She subsequently ‘married’ again via a religious ceremony without legal standing, and my father left us soon after I was born. He already had six children by two other women and would go on to have a seventh. I felt violated by the whole community because they knew my family affairs, particularly when they used our vulnerability to their own advantage.

My mother’s own difficult upbringing and trauma meant that she struggled with parenting, but this was never discussed. She eked a meagre living through ‘piece work’ making fabric flowers from home and by claiming benefits. We lived on the breadline, which further eroded our social standing, but we were taught to count our blessings and not talk about what was impacting us emotionally – as the culture and the limitations of the Punjabi language itself were barriers to any discussion of mental health. This naturally had a deleterious effect on my mental health and more so that of my brother, who had to try to be the man of the house from the age of 8, and who largely raised me. Learning to speak our truth is an ongoing struggle; writing this chapter is part of this process.

Living in a small town in Lancashire with a large Pakistani community, holding on to traditions was a cultural expectation. I was therefore forced to attend mosque, at which I was sometimes beaten to facilitate my learning, as was my brother when as a child he stood up to the various people who tried to impose themselves on our family. This included insisting that I should not be repatriated to Pakistan to be married. My brother, despite his own struggles, remains the most influential person in my life; I would not be the person I am today without his love and never-ending support. We both had a darker skin tone than our two older siblings, so experienced colourism within the family and the Pakistani community, and racism within the wider society.

Later, living in a largely impoverished white area, we had ‘Paki’ sprayed on our walls, which was extremely difficult to remove and was replaced when we did manage to clean it off. Our windows were smashed, and glass was pushed through our external fan. It was also commonplace to have racist slurs shouted through the letter box and have our front door kicked. The racism I experience nowadays tends to be less overt but, in some ways, remains just as devasting; my recent poem ‘Microaggressions’, published in an edited collection in 2021, best expresses this (see Reid and Maclean, 2021).

Box 1.1 Microaggressions

Microaggressions

• Your northern accent is so strong,
• Have you lived in this country long?
• Your name is so hard to say,
• Can I just shorten it to A?
• Can’t you ever take a joke?
• That’s the problem with your folk.
• I look around the room for an ally,
• For someone on whom I can rely.
• Someone to question why something was said,
• To ask what was going on in their head.
• But instead it is swept under the rug,
• And met with a confused look and a shrug.
• Sometimes it’s too much to handle alone,
• When others’ inaction serves just to condone.
• If I should respond will I be at risk?
• Will I be perceived as being too brisk?
• If I respond will it threaten our relationship?
• Will my shoulder be seen as having a chip?
• If I respond will it lead to a fight?
• Will I just be told that I’m too uptight?
• If I don’t respond will it play on my mind?
• Must I always speak as I find?
• Responsibility leaves me weary and tired,
• Losing all hope and left uninspired.
• I tell myself it’s okay not to always speak up,
• As I know you can’t pour from an empty cup.
• At least then I can take some time to recharge,
• As there’s always tomorrow for the issues at large.

My decision to study social work

I always had a love–hate relationship with school. I enjoyed some lessons, and worked hard, but struggled to respect authority that hadn’t been earned. My brother, having been failed himself by the education system, insisted that I keep trying, and there were a few teachers who could see my potential – most notably my English teacher. I struggled to express myself other than through anger, which by then was, in fact, the strongest emotion I felt, and, as a result, I had numerous detentions, suspensions and exclusions, and was regularly ‘on report’ for insubordination or fighting. I now know that my anger was guarding sadness, but I couldn’t engage with it at the time, as I felt it would have rendered me helpless.

In pastoral support, I was encouraged to volunteer at the local youth centre and through this, I found an early passion to promote integration and inclusion. I was increasingly able to channel my frustrations into bringing about positive change, and this led me into coaching and mentoring other young people. I also began representing young people in various forums and became a regional youth councillor. It was these experiences that ultimately led me to re-evaluate my attitude to school. With my brother’s support, I achieved nine GCSE’s, an AS and four A-levels. I decided to study social work, because of its emphasis on social justice, and for the vocational opportunities it afforded.

At the University of Sheffield, I came to understand that the prejudice and discrimination I experienced were a more complex interplay of racism, sexism and classism. On arrival at my hall of residence in 2005, I had never felt poorer or more different, particularly as the few other people who looked like me appeared to be wealthy. I felt more comfortable and connected on the social work course itself. Whilst there was little ethnic diversity, most of the students were mature female students motivated by personal experience and appeared to have a calling, which I found particularly inspiring. Given my experiences, I particularly valued my course’s focus on anti-discriminatory and anti-oppressive practice.¹

I completed my Batchelor’s degree in 2008 and returned to the University of Sheffield to study a part-time Master’s degree in Integrated Practice, which I completed in 2017. Returning to university as a mature student felt positive; it was great to be able to apply theory directly to practice.

My social work career

During my career, I have worked in a range of statutory, educational, community, voluntary and health settings. Early on, I was drawn to jobs that allowed me to impact the issues that affected me whilst growing up. One of my earliest roles was working for Community Action Halfway Home, a charity where I completed my final social work placement. I was delighted to be offered the role, as the organisation was committed to providing integrated and recovery-oriented support that promotes social inclusion. Much of the focus was on aiding individuals to regain stability and self-confidence and encouraging the development of a strong foundation for their lives in the community. I worked with individuals with mental health issues advocating on their behalf with the aim of enabling them to attain self-sufficiency and independence.

Following this, I worked as a mental health worker and trainer for Rotherham and Barnsley Mind, the mental health charity. My post consisted of two roles, which involved supporting young people within schools working with issues that they felt were pertinent to their mental health and emotional well-being. Secondly, I worked as a mental health trainer; this involved writing and delivering courses to professionals on issues that affect young people’s mental well-being. I delivered training on a variety of subjects such as anger, counselling skills, self-esteem, bullying, cultural awareness and bereavement and loss. I went on to work for Changing Faces, a charity for people and families who are living with conditions, marks, or scars that affect their appearance. The charity aims to transform public attitudes towards people with disfigurements. The Yorkshire and Humber Centre in Sheffield is the first localised support centre outside London; it began offering people in the local area access to the unique support in 2013. Originally, my role focused on service development and I was also seconded to the NHS (National Health Service). It was my job to provide one-to-one support, workshops for groups of children, young people and parents, emotional support clinics in hospitals throughout Yorkshire and the Humber, outreach work in the community, consultation and training for education, social care and healthcare professionals. Both positions allowed me to support young people to face social situations with confidence, cope with feelings and develop resilience, fulfil their personal potential, increase self-esteem and confidence and tackle bullying and discrimination. It felt cathartic to support young people who were struggling like I had done, and it was an honour to be able to use my lived and learned experience to make a difference.

Whilst working for Changing Faces, I took on a trustee role with Saffron, a specialist organisation providing free, confidential counselling and therapy services for women in Sheffield who have experienced abuse or trauma. Leading at Saffron on clinical and safeguarding matters increased my understanding of trauma and further equipped me to take on a senior practitioner role at the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse.² The Inquiry has a huge remit to address issues that have persisted despite previous inquiries and attempts at reform. My role involved providing trauma-informed advice, consultation and training to staff in all strands of the inquiry; managing safeguarding concerns; ensuring the voices of victims and survivors of child sexual abuse were heard; and increasing engagement from diverse communities.

Becoming a social work regulator

I currently work for Social Work England,³ the specialist regulator for social workers in England. This seemed like a natural transition as I was keen to take the lessons that I had learned at the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse forward in a broader context. I am one of eight regional engagement leads; we are all working in localities with a range of stakeholders and people who have an interest in social work. I cover Yorkshire and Humber and am responsible for ensuring the consistent implementation of Social Work England’s professional, education and training standards, and driving forward improvement across the region. I work closely with the other regional leads to build a comprehensive picture of social work challenges and opportunities and provide evidence-based insight and intelligence to inform policy decisions. As a team, we provide expert social work insight into various areas of Social Work England’s work, linking into registration, fitness to practise, education quality assurance, learning and development, communications and policy.

When I discovered that Social Work England was going to be the new regulator, I followed its journey closely, particularly when I found out it was going to be based in Sheffield. Social Work England is the third regulator I have registered with, but the only one that has actively sought to engage with social workers, education and training providers, those with lived experience and anyone with an interest in social work. I was drawn to its commitment to collaboration, which could be seen from the beginning, when it held a public consultation on the rules and standards that would be implemented when it became the regulator. I attended its event in Sheffield in May 2019 prior to taking up my post and was pleased to see how many people attended and felt this was the kind of engagement that the sector was looking for. I have been able to continue this commitment to collaboration by establishing meaningful relationships in the region and encouraging dialogue about our role as the regulator.

A highlight of my role has been helping to...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Series
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of contributors
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• 1 My darkness, my light
• 2 Social work: a profession that chose me
• 3 Becoming a significant person
• 4 Becoming a social worker in Northern Ireland
• 5 Putting families first
• 6 My journey in social work: reflections from an intersectional lens
• 7 Social work: a calling
• 8 Social work education: taking the scenic route
• 9 How one social worker made a difference
• 10 “It can be done; it must be done; so do it”
• 11 Using your privilege as a social worker
• 12 A social work career in Wales
• 13 The caring social worker
• 14 Navigating social work education and practice as a gender variant practitioner
• 15 Purpose and passion: a journey in social work
• 16 Social work: a relationship-based profession
• 17 Being a specialist palliative care social worker
• 18 African values in Western social work
• 19 My journey into social work in three stories: identity, growing and creativity
• 20 Becoming a social worker and a client: my lived experiences
• 21 Cultivating a better future
• 22 A road less travelled
• 23 Social work: a glocal profession
• Index