#TheReport 

Lemn Sissay is a famous person. He is also an amazing person. I suspect he is an amazing person irrespective of fame. To see an amazing famous person have a deeply personal psychological report read to them live on a London stage would always be a draw for many people, especially if it is the first time that person and the audience will hear what is contained within it.It sold out rapidly in 24 hours and I’m guessing it could have been sold out many times over.

What led me to travel far across country to see #The Report read to Lemn Sissay by Julie Hesmondhalgh, other than my interest politically and the wish to bear supportive witness to somebody I respect, was love for my foster son. The beautiful, intelligent and funny boy who was severely damaged by the systems he found himself in as a young child and the lack of care he has received and continues to receive within those systems. Now a young man he continues to struggle with fear, anxiety, anger, trusting people, managing close relationships and substance abuse. As I sat listening to ‘The Report’ he was always in my mind.

Lemn has had to spend over four hours speaking to a psychologist as part of his ongoing efforts to sue the social services for having stolen his childhood. The report told of cruelty, lies, misinformation, constant racist abuse, systemic failure to care and the most harrowing stealing of his history and identity. The stealing of him from his mother. Stealing his mother from him.

I found it personally excruciating to hear the details and found myself both angry and very sad. I wanted to shout out. I think I wanted Lemn to shout out. The fact that Lemn was at times described as ‘aggressive’ within his files made me feel aggressive. When will assessments of children take into account that anger is actually a valid and healthy response to being traumatised and abused?

I’m sure I’m not the only one who felt they wanted to reach out to Lemn and attempt to reassure and offer love as he bravely sat there on an uncomfortable chair hearing shit truths he already knew. What the report conclusion described is the resultant damage done to Lemn. Leaving him with a deep mistrust of people. It also described the abuse against Lemn as having left him with high levels of trauma. No surprise there then.

Trauma cannot miraculously be healed, but with the right support the strategies can be found to cope with triggers and reverberations as they come. Lemn has had the personal strength to fight back and to channel his thoughts, feelings and his truth into creativity and to find safe ways of connection. A true survivor. A hero and connector to thousands.

Two things shone out of ‘The Report’ like diamonds in the dirt. One was hearing only positive descriptions of Lemn from a professional who recognised his strength, intelligence and honesty. A massive lesson right there for professional carers and social workers. The other was hearing from Lemn himself about Ethiopia’s pride for him.

As with all psychological reports Lemn was subjected to examination and interview within set criteria and scales. Scales of damage done that most certainly, as if there should ever have been any question, show he must surely receive healthy compensation and a real apology.

I can’t go into my sons life story here but there are similarities and threads that run through. There will be thousands of adults who have experienced local authority care and children now in care who also have those same threads running through their history. Untruths, misinformation, cruelty and neglect. Injustices of such magnitude a million sorries will not suffice.

Other things struck me about the report. One was the idea that the systemic abuse of Lemn began in long term foster care. It was presumed that removal from his mother as a baby at a few months old was not psychologically damaging to him. I’m not sure I agree with that. I feel that the severance may have been the first wound and as a consequence it then left him vulnerable to the cruelty of others over many years. The trauma of it and it’s consequences must surely reverberate throughout his family?

Another thing described throughout the report was the extent of racist abuse toward Lemn during his childhood. It was highly disturbing and included abuse from his foster family, other children and care home staff. I wondered how racist the care responses to his pregnant mother in a UK mother and baby home may have been.

There was talk of how this type of abuse was acceptable within British culture when Lemn was young. It was inexcusable then and it’s inexcusable now. Sadly from my own cultural and personal experience it remains. It’s just covered up more effectively. Like Lemn’s childhood identity and redacted files it’s been whitewashed. To hear how that abuse impacted on Lemn, shamed and traumatised him is horrific.

In a time of recent adoption reform and the current government investigation into improving foster care, the issue of cultural and institutional racism within adoption and fostering should remain at the forefront. I can’t see it there at the moment. My companion for the night has direct experience of trying to gain support for his transracial adoptive family and that experience has not shown that the support systems view inherent cultural racism as a current or important issue for children in transracial family placements. Permanence, safety and long term security is very important for children. Being well meaning but not critically questioning around methods to achieving permanence is not good enough. I’m sure lots of people felt Lemn’s white foster family were doing a wonderful Christian thing ‘saving’ a black child in the 1960’s. How they went about that intention at saving and subsequent failure was seemingly not questioned and criticised enough on behalf of Lemn by the professionals paid to keep him safe.

 

We must truly thank Lemn Sissay for having the strength and determination to pursue and expose the truth of his life story. Having the drive as a public figure to share the truth through his creative work and through his court case hopefully gives unknown others the strength to speak out and seek justice and apology for abuses against them in the name of care. Those supporting children and young people must take full responsibility for speaking out and tackle with full force the issues of institutional racism and other oppressive and abusive social care practices.

So that’s what I took from this extraordinary event. Energy and fresh motivation to keep fighting for children’s rights.

 

National Adoption Week Thoughts #NAW2016 

A guest post from an adopted adult:

As I sit down and try and think where to start, I find that the first part of my process is self censorship- How can I make this ok to read? How can I protect the identities of the people I grew up with? How can I say what I need to without causing offence?

It’s like putting up hurdles where this was supposed to be a sprint.

Where does this come from?

The need to protect other people. I learnt it very early on. Conversations around adoption were sparse when I was growing up- but I didn’t know any different or that there was even the possibility of asking questions- so I stored them up, ready to be unwrapped as and when the law dictated that I should be able to find out about myself.

I don’t think that my parents would have shut me down if I had asked, but I know exactly the look that would have appeared on their faces, like a slight shadow falling across them- they would have been hurt.

How did I know at such a tender age (from around 5/6) that speaking about adoption would upset my parents?

Perhaps it was the way I was told? Maybe it was the messages I received from outside when I shared my news ( ‘ but they are your real parents though’ ‘you were lucky to be chosen’ ‘you should be grateful for the life you have’…) that kept me quiet and in my own head? Or it could just be that it was the culture I grew up in- respect your elders, accept your lot, this is what it is.

I’m not lamenting that things were this way, I am glad that I have grown up with the ability to understand the world from other points of view- It’s just a reflection- but it’s not how I see adoption written or spoken about in our world of non-stop twitter feeds and updates and blogs.

I don’t see (in this country anyway) a thriving network of adopted people sharing their experiences, openly talking about the challenges and joys of growing up in a non-biological, non nuclear family. Maybe I’m not looking hard enough? (although many, many hours have been spent looking for this very thing…) I can’t seem to find open forums, supported by leading adoption charities, or government agencies, where adopted people (over the age of 25…) can discuss, share, empathise and educate each other, and the world about how it is for them (Really, truly, non sanitised, honestly.)

Make it happen! I say to myself, and in the times where I have- put the feelers out, started some online conversations with a few fellow adopted people, it’s fallen flat- I think- because it is incredibly hard to get past the feeling of not wanting to hurt anyone. From adopted people who wait until their adoptive parents have died to find their birth family (out of a sense of loyalty and often too late to find surviving biological relatives) to those who burn with questions they are too afraid to ask, painting on the happy face so as not to risk being rejected by a second set of parents. It’s really difficult to have the conversation.

I don’t like the idea of being ‘given’ a voice, as I have so often seen when people invite contributions or a token inclusion- (one day out of five in NAW?) it is implicit in its ‘power-over’ dynamic and says, I have a seat at the table which you can borrow, but only for a minute- and don’t be controversial…adoption should be (and really always has been) a communication between a vast number of people. Not one of those people should feel or be silenced.

If birth parents are demonised, it’s a disservice to the children, if adopters are criticised for not being ‘therapeutic’ or ‘attachment aware’ enough, it’s a disservice to the children, if social workers are made pariahs because of a decision- ultimately it’s the children and young people who are let down.

What would be perfect is adoptive families- writing together about these things- how great would that be? (and I know there is some amazing work happening along those lines, in a spirit of collaboration and openness, but it’s the exception not the rule..) I know this is my idealistic rose-tinted fantasy, but the idea of families making their own story together- I find beautiful and trusting. I do sometimes wonder how it will be for some of those who are children now, growing up and reading about their parents experiences of them. It takes resilience from all corners to be able to hear what it’s really like.

There is no easy, comfortable answer- people need to share- that’s part of our human experience, to document and resonate, to feel connected and able to vent or celebrate and so we should- I would love for it to be accessible for everyone. Sometimes, it feels to me like the discourse needs to catch up with the reality- new language is created all the time and so too in the world of adoption- we can learn it together, not apart.

Thank you to The Open Nest for supporting inclusion and transparency. x

Inside Out (Trauma Stylee)

Inside Out image

Anxiety is some think in body that sets your heart rate up. what happens to me when I’m anxious is I talk to much I smoke to much and I get hevery breathing nd I start shaking nd I wet my self a lot nd I get less hungry nd I go rally clingy to mummy bear nd anxiety can lead to panic attacks wich r hobble.

Anger is hobble felling it eats u up. what I get when I’m angry I get rally coxey nd pushey nd I do Lounds of wate liffding nd I play rally angry music nd I put on a voise so no one comes near me nd I have day dreams about slashing my arms up nd shaving all my hire off nd I get rally rude nd I over play music.

Sadness is all so hobble. I get like rally sad nd I cart deal with to much talk nd I rally don’t like been over told off nd I hate eye contact then I don’t like to much body contact nd I just won’t to bee on my own nd put my head phoes on beause I fell like I’m pee of shit nd I get rally bad nd hobble thorts like blood nd clowns nd killing people nd all so cuting my self so I get a buzz nd kick out of it

Joy is happy what I’m like I’m quite funny loving nd huggy nd help full

Love well thay Lound s of different love but in love it’s hobble beause u cart think of ey thing els no one els separate the person how u in love with. when I fell that I get inprot with my sport works nd I get sexist nd I get moody nd I get all sex up nd try waching porn nd play love songs nd I day dream a lot.

Fear is wear u r skerd. what I’m like I get rally skerd about going out in the car nd doing stuff nd I’m all ways skerd mummy bear going to fall down the seras nd hert her self or die nd when I’m skerd I poo or wet my self nd I get rally clingy with mummy bear

Embarrassment Is wear u get embarrassed about some thing so like u see some one how u fancy nd thay give u complmnt about how u look or your mum said some think in basing or dad. I get like I get argent nd put on tuff man voise nd I walk the chimp nd I go red or I just don’t say ey thing

Adoption Stories: Fact & Fiction

Adoption in itself brings together the many stories and experiences of several people. Birth family, adoptee, adopters and adoption workers. All family stories are important and often treasured, hidden, embroidered, repeated, or celebrated, but when a continuity is broken they can also become confused, muddled and mistold.

My adopted daughter came into my life with a scrapbook put together by her brilliant foster family, showing her time with them, happy events and fellow foster children. There was no detailed life story book. It was as if she were born aged four. The social services gave me verbal stories of her inadequate parents, chaotic and abusive home life…her mother had “knocked her front teeth out” and how she may have been born out of prostitution as her skin colour suggested “another ethnic background to that of her siblings”.

I was shocked and quite scared when I was told to avoid certain geographical areas due to the threat of potential attack by her mum.

After a few months of placement I felt I really needed more background to “the story” in order to understand my daughter properly. It took me a long time to piece together the bits of information I could get hold of. It helped enormously when I was able to contact a birth aunty who was a calm and reasonable police officer. I managed to get enough history to feel comfortable enough to meet Dawn and Fred. One of the most important things was hearing that Jazz lost her baby teeth when one of her siblings accidentally let go of her toddler reins and she fell over. I heard Dawn had a learning disability and behavioural problems which made her hard to engage with. I heard Fred was a lot older and his pride got in the way of him accepting support.  Another important piece of the jigsaw was hearing she had an African descendant, maybe a great grandfather, and her mums skin colour was beautiful like hers. How this became translated into her mother being a prostitute I still don’t know.

I was still really scared to go into the social services office to meet the parents, especially as the social worker was not altogether impressed with the idea due to the “no birth family contact” order given in court. My heart was racing feeling sure they would hate me for having their child. Instead Dawn hugged me and we cried together.

From that day on we have worked together to give Jazz a fuller picture of her life. It hasn’t been easy and I have had to encourage Dawn not to blame everything on the social services and own up to her failures as well as to own her successes. Jazz has needed support and to be given control over the level of contact.It has resolved things for her and bought about forgiveness, mainly of herself. I have grown to love Dawn and Fred like I do my birth family, sometimes we bicker and annoy each other but the ties are strong.

Jazz’s family history is much like many others. It has sad bits, happy bits, bits that bring shame and bits to be proud of. Now it has melded into my family history and become a part of my story and my history.

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Hope For The Future

We had some great training this week from Geraldine Casswell who is in the group of Dyadic Developmental Psychotherapy therapists who work alongside Dan Hughes. dyadicdevelopmentalpsychotherapy.org

It was positive and reassuring about having hope for the future of teenagers and young people who have experienced attachment issues and trauma. Of course we had to fund privately and were given a very fair deal but just knowing there are people out there who want to spread the words of hope and love is encouraging.

We hope to raise funds through The Open Nest Charity to help other families access training with wise mentors like Geraldine but in the meantime would like to share a video we were shown.

My Name Is Jazz: The Future

Whell I have moved in to my on house as u all no but I all ways won’t a house by the see side  because  I love walking on the beach and having fires and felling the lovely soft sand and the smell of the see and swimming and tacking the most wonderful stafferbull tears out.

And my ideal car is a soberro but well have to bee realistic so voxyl cosa red and black Matted and big lound spieler and orange wells and black out windows  And a massive speaker in the boot.

And Ideil job is army or police but yet ageing we have to bee realistic so a macanick with my new friends and me to bee ther boss for ones not mother hen!!!!!!

And my ideal stile is rally skinny jeans and long hire and one side saved but I cart grow my hire past a grade 4 because its rally annoye me.

my i deil body is big rip mussels and my idel tatto is marvel comics sleeve and my ideal  Holiday is New York withe the most wounde full fiend and mum ever

And my ideal laptop is a Appel Mac.

me and one of my best fiends we are starting a caffe at the hotel and I’m go to do a club with no acihol.

i work at a resqiew center for dogs and birds and a blind gote and stuff and we got a Gary hound in on whensday and he is in a rate stat so I rally won’t to help him get better.

My  one dreem that I’ve all ways won’t I’d is a baby girl calls Tilly Kat Boorman or a son call Jason David Boorman the end.

Post Adoption Support….I May Eat My Hat!

It’s fourteen years next month since we adopted each other. It’s been an epic journey and it certainly continues to be so. During this time I have been an avid follower of all things political, media related and policy making around adoption. I’ve watched and listened, contributed and written to MP’s. All this alongside just trying my best to have some semblance of a healthy and secure existence for my daughter.

I have never felt she was ‘owned’ by me just because she was in my longterm care, and yet when she needed support post adoption, the general response to our desperate need for help was that she was very much ‘mine’. This constant misunderstanding of her needs by our local authority, as well as her placing authority, struck me as horribly ironic. The state intervened in her birth family as her learning disabled mother sadly could not care for her and without having any support was severely and cruelly neglecting her needs. I can’t believe that nobody professional we met understood the ‘double whammy’ nature of this, and how a person full of rage due to displacement followed by further neglect of their needs was ever going to heal and thrive without great support, let alone the neglect being by those who purport to, and are paid to care.

Of course I did what most adopters do and tooled myself up, trained by Dan Hughes, read Caroline Archer and the like, applied to get help from charities such as Family Futures and Adoption UK. We even latterly attended a pitiful and run down CAMHS. We got nothing really solid, regular enough or meaningful enough and I essentially became an amateur psychologist as well as a teacher and a mum. All very well, but at what cost to my daughter? I can honestly say that the most stress caused to us was by the constant ignoring or misinterpretation of my begging for help. It felt like cruelty to us both. I’m sure we may have been the ‘complex’ case we were described as, but I knew what we needed and I know it wasn’t too much to ask. The rubbish assessment processes, mismanaged meetings, unaware social workers and budget conscious managers took up all the funding we might have had.

My original assessment as a suitable adopter was clear in its positive reporting that as a previously qualified social worker, I would be able to successfully identify a child’s needs and ask for appropriate support. That would seem laughable now if it wasn’t so sad.

So back to today. I feel as an adoptive parent I should be celebrating the Governments announcement for funding to support adoptive families. After all I am so galvanised by our experiences that I have formed a charity to try and help others with free post adoption support. (There is no catch, we will listen and we will believe and we will understand) The funding will come from myself and other volunteers fund raising, no big charity boss salaries.

My daughter is now an adult and living with support in her own home. I could go back to work to pay off the huge debts I incurred as a single parent unable to work, I could finally do my MA that I was due to start fourteen years ago, I could quite frankly laze about for at least a year to recharge my very worn out batteries, but I can’t because I feel so passionate. I feel very strongly that maybe our small contribution might mean a small amount of traumatised children might not be ignored and unsupported to the point that they are unable to remain safely in their second family. Maybe some adoptive parents might feel they got a meaningful and empathic support response that didn’t have a price tag. Maybe our creative, user led, non profit approach might be considered good practice by those who hold the power and we won’t be seen as “just mothers” playing at the big boys game. We can but try.

Sadly my experience tells me that the Governments recent announcement is not very ‘charitable’ and may amount to a political sticking plaster on a gaping wound. There are hundreds of children and parents out there now who need urgent support. They can’t wait for years to see if pilot schemes work for the lucky ones. £20 million may seem a lot, but its nothing when specialist therapeutic professionals can charge up to £1000 for a days staff training, £3000 for a detailed assessment, £100-£300 per hour for therapy, and a specialist therapeutic programme costs approx £30,000 per family per year if your child is developmentally traumatised. Some of our children have sadly become big money clients in all this.

(As an aside, a news item I saw this week whilst thinking of creative solutions to care was applauding the creative skills of the British and how we export our creativity successfully. This was in the context that the development of the new Grand Theft Auto game was done in Scotland. The cost of that creative development for a game which encourages crime and violence was £175 million).

If we like it or not, fostering and adoption make money, wether its saving money in the case of adoption over fostering, or simply in private agencies gaining fees to fund their jobs in the care ‘industry’. The National Fostering Agency was sold last year for approx £130 million. Private adoption agencies make money and the average fee gained for placing a child with an adoptive family is £27,000. Support agencies make profit.  It’s reportedly been tough for the smaller agencies to survive with prospective adopters low in numbers, hence the Governments recent financial assistance to help them make more “sales”. I know being professional and skilled deserves and needs payment, but not the expense of those one is in the business of supposedly helping.

At the moment I can see some current and existing services developing to gain potential post adoption support fund budgets. Of these, many will of course be well intended, creative, value for money, accessible to all and excellent, but some people can see money making opportunities. It makes me worried that once again, the people at the low end of the adoption food chain might be children

Apologies for my cynicism and if I am proved wrong by amazing, enshrined in law, support to all adoptees and their families (including kin) in the near future……meaningful and quick assessments of need, free therapy, quality identity and life story work, empathic fair access to education, specialist training and respite for parents and support to adoptees post eighteen……..I’ll eat my (very fashionable) hat.

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