In Care, without Care

My article intends to provide hindsight and a personal narrative for the reader into the London borough of Hackney's social services, professionals and their behaviour and conduct with children in long/shortterm foster care and also with care leavers as we transitioned to adulthood from the 1990s to the mid-2000s by sharing my personal experiences, and all I’ve been through and witnessed with other children in foster care and care leavers.

Beginnings

Foster care overall was a negative experience for me with things drastically improving after being transferred to the Leaving Care Service in 2004 for sixteen-year-olds preparing for semi-independent living and finally independent living at eighteen years old.

From seventeen to twenty-two years old I was under the care of the service from 2005–2012 when my case was officially closed.

I have very vivid unhappy memories of my early childhood in foster care especially from ages four years old and upwards. Very clear memories of being told ‘You are not my child!’ by carers and ‘I don’t have to get you anything, as you’re not family’ by my foster mother’s sister when she came to visit on Christmas day in 1995. Not being with my mother only internalised the shame of being in care and not with any of my real family on both my mum and dad’s side. There was a constant overwhelming feeling of being an outsider no matter where I was, for example, at school or with friends, etc.

I felt like an outcast and a burden, either way I definitely didn’t belong because I didn’t have one fundamental thing—family. This feeling of not belonging only went away when I reached my thirties and engaged in private trauma therapy as I had been let down and not listened to by Hackney mental health services for the previous twelve years. I definitely feel socially awkward because of these early childhood experiences. I still have flashbacks and get anxious and uncomfortable. I remember being constantly told to be quiet and to shut up which is why I didn’t speak up when I was being harmed by my abuser at the age of 7 or witnessing domestic violence and attacks of my foster mum and her partner fighting one another at the age of 6, and also experienced violence myself in my last foster home from 1999 to 2005.

Looking back, dysfunction was normal to me but I didn’t comprehend the effect and ingrained impact it had on me until I reflected on all areas of my past relationships with friends, my biological families, colleagues and past lovers. I was very socially dysfunctional even antisocial in some settings definitely awkward and feeling odd.

From a baby until present my real mum has suffered with her own health issues and subsequently has been in and out of hospital until a few years ago. My real dad never stepped up to be a father to his four daughters. He selfishly rejected his two youngest daughters of my mum and refused to care acknowledge or look after them only wanting me and my sister resulting in us all being put into foster care rather than with him and his family. I was in and out of foster care from when I was born alongside my brother and sisters until 1997 when a court order imposed in by a judge ordered us to stay with one family until we each turned eighteen years old to give us stability as we had been through so much, moving every few months to a year, there was no stability, safety or support.

Critical analysis

When I think about social services, they failed many children in care through negligence and failings within the system however a major flaw which stands out in my mind was there were hardly none, if any engagement with foster children. Whenever they had their bi yearly meetings, it was only with the adults the foster carers and the social workers and never with the children which was in hindsight shocking and in my mind confirmed and cemented children were not to be seen or heard. Myself like many others did not have a voice and wasn’t even granted the basic opportunity to express our experiences both good and bad of our placements.

Leaving Care Social Services was much more inclusive and informed and a better positive experience; there was ethnic and racial diversity and representation with black staff both male and female meaning I could relate to staff culturally and look up to them as working members of the community who actually cared about us young people. Counselling for both individual and group therapy was offered with the service as well as social events like the education award ceremonies at Hackney town hall and the fun Christmas parties where the social workers and care leavers were able to mingle, celebrate, make memories and have fun. It was diverse with many ethnicities of care leavers, White, Black, Asian, Mixed, Eastern European, Turkish, etc. Similar ages, of sixteen –twenty-one years old, an equal ratio in my opinion of male-to-female care leavers, gay, straight, bisexual, questioning, disabled care leavers with physical ailments, mental ailments, etc. and everyone was supported and treated equally. Everyone was encouraged to be themselves, and were supported especially at our award ceremonies and parties and meet ups. It made me smile. The equality I witnessed, it gave me a sense of empathy and compassion for others.

In hindsight, social services could have spoken to children as well rather than wait until we turned into adolescents. They also could have offered talking therapy, art therapy, play therapy or any therapy of some sort to help with emotional dysregulation, anxiety of adults leaving again and helping to salvage some sort of secure attachment rather than leave us to expect dysfunction in our relationships and life as we left the care system.

I am not alone with my traumas

It is because of this lack of access, I was unable to disclose the sexual abuse and trauma I endured to social services in one particular placements in 1996 when I was seven– eight years old by my sixteen-year-old foster brother. There was no opportunity to speak up or anyone to advocate our voice and feelings for us because as children of the state, I got the reaction from adults around that no one cared about us really and they were only in it for the money as at the time it was no more than £400 per week per foster child. Us kids were literally a pay check for these foster carers! The more children they fostered the more they got paid.

Abuse in its many manifestations was normal but I had enough and reached my limit with my final placement in May 2005, a couple months after my seventeenth birthday. I stopped talking to my foster carers two years before hand when in was fifteen years only speaking to collecting my pocket money and then I would either stay out late or stay in my room. The placement had broken down irrevocably but I stayed quiet like I had learnt as a child rather than complain to social services. I was just exhibiting my learnt behaviour from my childhood years.

When I was seventeen years old, I left my placement prematurely before eighteen years old as a result of another physical fight with my foster dad. He repeatedly physically abused me from the ages of 11–17 by physically hitting, man handling and threatening to stab me. I fought him back as I was bigger now, my foster mum tried to intervene and got hurt in the process, my next door neighbours and friends all witnessed the fight when my foster mum broke us up. I was raging mad resulting in me smashing the dinnerware. I went to bed mad, woke up for college, walked out the next day of the foster home and never returned except to collect my belongings from my bedroom a month later. I didn’t report my foster dad to the police because he had dreams to be a councillor for the London borough of Newham and a police conviction would have prevented that. I learned from a child when being abused I do not have a voice against an adult. I just take it and be quiet or I was just too kind to my abusers.

But that was the general narrative of the 1990s and early 2000s. I know now in 2022 there are more stringent checks for potential foster carers and many things have changed and I pray for improved conditions for children in care. Back then as I previously mentioned neglect was often overlooked as social service visits to the foster homes were not unannounced, they were unfortunately scheduled every six months giving the foster carers to get their act together and treat us properly, for example, giving the carers time to buy new clothes, shoes and toys and putting it on my bed right in time for the social service visit and inspection.

My personal foster experience as a child was filled with many negative and traumatic events the positive memories are very rare but I hold these memories so close to my heart.

The only positive carer that I remember who showed love and affection was when I was three years old in 1991 with Mrs George. I remember her to this day because I felt safe and was allowed to be a child have fun and play all day long with my toys. Another positive experience of family and love shown to me genuinely was the yearly two week respite to a family in Brixham, Devon, Torquay from 1994 to 1995 and 1997 to 1998 when I was ages six–seven and nine–ten years old but this was abruptly stopped and there was no communication as to why.

Children in the care system had to grow up fast before they should have been expected to, learnt to rely on themselves and never trust that an adult would stay in their life as they would possibly move, leave, etc. I learned to expect adults to always leave because I kept moving from one foster family to the next. Another thing that was massively wrong with social care in the nineties was the treatment of us children. I felt worthless when moving from one foster home to another because social services placed all belongings in black bin bags. We never had suitcases. That pretty much cemented what adults thought of us or me in my case. It was ridiculous. So many messages were internalised by myself with such acts and treatments. I felt so unworthy that I neglected myself and wouldn’t take care of me unless I was reunited with my real mother which never happened so the self-neglect continued.

Hope—Leaving Care Service

The leaving care service social workers treated us as humans and not a check box statistic doomed for failure and a stereotype. They taught me how to stand up for myself, look up from the ground and were positive to me, strong black women and men supporting children exiting the system. There was positive representation, for example, black female and male staff which positively impacted me. They were like my family I called them my leaving care family and I was always genuinely laughing and smiling with the staff. They were the first positive secure attachment and healthy relationship with an adult I had ever had as an adolescent/teenager. They were consistent and honest and loving to the point and were firm but fair not afraid to instil boundaries and discipline as us kids didn’t have any, most of all they helped us, they listened to us and they supported us. I had the best social workers ever who to this day I still cherish who I'll name as SC, and YM. They listened to my worries encouraged me to make friends with other service users which may not have been wise considering each of us had issues from ranging from one extreme to another and were dysfunctional, damaged teens too but we had to start somewhere. I became friends with a care leaver ∼ who I'll call SM who I thought was a friend we were introduced when I was 15 and him 16. Eight years later he would rape me 10 days before me my twenty-third birthday in 2011. He was in full knowledge about my sexually abusive past and my chronic trouble with trusting men, I really trusted him enough to confide about my childhood abuse many years before where he consoled, supported and advised me how to heal. He was my friend of eight years or so I thought yet he still decided to betray me. Displacing my trust in people and men once again.

Many of us kids in care were the expected sterotype and negative statistics i.e ex-offenders, convicts, school dropouts, teenage parents, drug and alcohol addicts, abused and abusers, last but not least extremely vulnerable to predators in this dog eat dog world.

Those of us who made it and are still standing is in fact unheard of. The adversity trials and tribulations faced would make any adult break yet alone a young person still growing and developing without familial support. I’m not perfect, I’m still changing, still learning to be a better woman and human; learning to be more emotionally healthy, more humble, open minded, less controlling grounded and free. I’m making efforts to change my behaviour, attitudes and mannerisms that no longer benefit me and serve me. I’ve grown and matured and become older and wiser and proud of myself and grateful for my friends’ support. They are amazing and I know for a fact I would not be here today without their love, extreme patience, time, attention, wisdom and advice. Some I’ve pushed away, some I’ve grown apart from, some I’ve met as an adult going through recovery.

Implications of my piece

I am aware this piece may have implications such as bringing up traumatic memories from my childhood which can affect me moving on from my past and living my best life.

I am passionate about sharing my experiences and I’m proud of my triumphs and all that I have gained along the way despite the adversity, trauma and setbacks.

Regardless of all that I have been through there are numerous achievements I am proud of: I am still living independently, I have my full driver’s license, I’m still belly dancing, I finally got my BSc degree and my first full time job in June 2022 after my mental health breakdown in 2010 which was brought on after my child abuser from 1996 shocked me and messaged me on Facebook messages in 2010 under a false name stating he remembered me (Yuck!).

I’m in private trauma therapy as I have found the NHS mental health team in Hackney severely abusive, dismissive, discriminatory, incompetent, inept and extremely negligent and unreliable except for a select few.

As a result of what I have lived through and survived I have long-term complex Post-/Traumatic Stress Disorder and trauma, chronic Depression and Anxiety, and Schizophrenia thankfully in remission. However I will not allow my past to define me any longer, I’m taking up sports, roller skating, swimming and martial arts. I’m researching what a secure attachment is by rereading Bowlby, Ainsworth and more recent up to date studies. I’m determined to help myself by embracing new opportunities and resources and give myself my basic human rights for a better quality of life from now on. I’m determined to speak out on injustices for myself and others who feel they also don’t have a voice and who have been through similar experiences.

I’m learning and applying boundaries to toxic, one-sided unhealthy relationships and also learning what a healthy relationship is, so I can make better choices with friends, family and lovers and not be prey to predators who use and take advantage and abuse.

I can proudly say my boundaries are rising. I lean on myself but I am resourceful in asking for external help from professionals and friends. The London borough of Hackney has nothing positive for me. It has failed me time and time again. It is very negative and has been very triggering since I was born. I hope to move out very soon and by next year and start anew somewhere fresh.

But to truly move on I need to make peace with all that I went through, knowing I survived the most difficult of odds and to let go of my past so I can live a fulfilling life on my terms. I’m looking forward to reinventing myself as a woman with a healthy foundation, free from others’ misconceptions, projected insecurities and criticisms. I have few biological family members that I’m in touch with but I consider my friends as my family. They have been with me through school, college, university, my breakdowns and traumas, they have sacrificed so much of their time, money, home and more to ensure I felt loved and safe.

I hope my article at the very least can do something to inspire practical change and positive reform for the children of social services in Hackney, London, the UK, elsewhere in the UK and the rest of the world.

Thank you for reading my reflective piece of my lived experience in foster care in Hackney, London, UK. It is my hope that it has led to some insight into the quality, service and treatment of children in foster care from the 1990s to mid-2000s. Things have changed a lot since the 2004 Care Act and more needs to be done and is being done albeit slowly. I encourage anyone who resonates with my story to have courage to stand up for the little girl or boy that was not stood up for or defended so that the future generation of foster children can see those who came before them and made it out of the system, recovered and healed from their humble adverse beginnings. Our past does not define us despite the massive odds against children in care. We are resilient and it is our right to be cared for in a secure loving home with healthy functioning carers so we can be healthy and functioning too.

Author Biography

A thirty-four-year-old female care leaver, who was in foster care as an infant until seventeen years old which overall, was a negative experience that massively impacted her mental, physical and emotional health that still affects her to this day. The ethnicity Danika identifies with is Caribbean Black British with Grenadian (Grenada) and Jamaican (Jamaica) heritage. Born in Hackney, London, UK, in 1988, she still resides there.