Social.....Work

I love the idea of social work—the foundation, the philosophy, and the goals of the early pioneers. I feel proud to be a social worker and part of a profession that considers the human condition in the larger context of social justice and human rights. Despite my pride, I am often frustrated and disheartened by the misconceptions and "typical" view of social work.

A recent conversation exemplifies my point. A few weeks ago, I went to a party with a friend of mine who had just started working as a volunteer coordinator and case manager at a social service agency. She and I began speaking with another guest and he asked my friend what she did for a living. After he commented on her answer, she corrected him, “well, I’m not a ‘social worker,’ but ---- is.” He responded, “What do you mean? Doesn’t ‘social work’ just come from having experience?” She looked at me uncomfortably and said, “Well, you need a Masters, don’t you?” I smiled to hide my annoyance and explained that yes, one needs to earn a Masters in social work and even a license!

If she said she was working at a law firm but wasn’t a “lawyer,” would he have asked the same question? Does anyone think that an accountant, a lawyer, a teacher, or a psychologist can just “become one from experience?” The confusion translates across languages as well. Someone was speaking at my school the other day and announced, in English, that he worked as a case manager at a mental health program. When he repeated the same statement in Spanish he used the term, “trabajador social.” Social worker.

What's the word I'm looking for?

One of my favorite clients, a fifth grade girl, was talking last week about how her brother locked her out of their apartment. She explained, "My mom was at my tia's house, but when I called her she was not disposable." It took a second, but then I realized what she meant- "disponible," available. She said it again, "I was yelling at him to let me in and I tried to call her again, but she still was not disposable."

Perhaps I should have corrected her, but I didn't. I understood what she was saying and that was the point, to hear the content and the feelings and not be concerned with vocabulary. And I'm selfishly glad to have that moment just for myself.

A Day Without Immigrants

For the past few weeks, I've been talking with my middle-school kids about the recent immigration debates. We watched "A Day Without a Mexican" and I noted that when I first introduced the title, they made sure to identify themselves as "not Mexican" ("I'm Dominican, I'm Puerto Rican," etc.). They told me that they believe "immigrant" is considered a bad word and that kids in their classes have used it to insult each other. (My rough estimate of first and second-generation immigrants in the student population is at least 70-80%.) After watching the film, one student asked why the pink fog into which the Mexicans disappeared couldn't be a white fog and take away all the white people. As the students walked out of the room at the end of the film, I heard --- (who is Dominican) say, "I'm a proud Mexican."

For an excellent dialogue about immigration, check out tonight's episode of NOW on PBS. Did I mention that NOW is one of my favorite programs, even after Bill Moyers retired?

An excellent anti-bias and diversity appreciation resource that provides free materials for educators, counselors, youth workers, parents and kids is the Teaching Tolerance web project . I particularly love their One World posters (see above), which are 20 times more interesting and creative than those usually made for the school environment.

And for all of us who think we are completely accepting, open-minded and nonjudgmental, take these hidden bias tests.

Privilegio

Here's an example of how race impacts my work experience: I needed to meet a new client during the afterschool program and asked his afterschool teacher, in Spanish, if I could please take him to my office after he finished his snack and she agreed. I ran into another colleague on my way out of the cafeteria and as we were talking, we walked back over to where the student was eating. The afterschool teacher saw us and said to my colleague, "tell her [me] I'll bring --- to her office." My colleague started to repeat this to me and then said, "oh, sorry,--. Why am I translating to you?" Throwing my hands in the air, I told my colleague that I had just spoken to the teacher in Spanish and wondered why she thought I didn't understand her. She responded, "I'm sorry, ---, it's your color."

This is something I struggle with almost everyday as a non-person of color working in a largely Latino/African-American environment. Sometimes I feel hurt--as if after all this time, some of my colleagues still do not know me and consider me as separate from them. And other times I understand that it is not personal and that if the situation were reversed the white majority might speak to a Latino worker as if she/he were deaf; that the white majority might socialize together and intentionally or unintentionally exclude colleagues of color; that the white majority would make all kinds of assumptions about how and where their colleagues live, how much money they make, and how they spend their time away from work; and that the white majority might not have any idea that the ability to think and do all of the above has been conferred upon them by their white privilege.

I'm not sure exactly where it comes from, but I have always been fascinated with difference--different religion, different race, different culture, different language--and having the experience of living in another country for a significant amount of time, speaking another language, and being in a relationship with a recent immigrant sometimes makes me feel like I have the entry ticket to the "other." But I realize that however much I would like to be viewed as an ally, my "white privilege" can make me an oppressive presence. Peggy McIntosh writes, "I did not see myself as a racist because I was taught to recognize racism only in individual acts of meanness by members of my group, never in invisible systems conferring unsought racial dominance on my group from birth." I need to talk about how race impacts my everyday interactions because I find it fascinating and sometimes frustrating and because I know that my ability do meaningful work requires me to do so. If I don't analyze, consider, and get feedback on these experiences, I wouldn't consider myself a very good social worker.

"The silences and denials surrounding privilege are the key political tool here. They keep the thinking about equality or equity incomplete, protecting unearned advantage and conferred dominance by making these taboo subjects. Most talk by whites about equal opportunity seems to be now to be about equal opportunity to try to get into a position of dominance while denying that systems of dominance exist." -Peggy McIntosh

Candyland

I've calculated that, on average, I play CandyLand around 25 times a week, or 100 times a month. If you have never had the opportunity to play and wonder what else I could possibly have time for at my job, let me assure you that Candyland is not as time consuming as say, Trivial Pursuit, and I've found it's possible to play up to 5 or 6 times in one session!

Although you might think Candyland is a fairly straightforward game, my kids have often surprised me with their alternative rules. One third grader likes us to use all four figures (2 teams of 2). If his team approaches the finish line first, he passes on his turns and allows me to continue. The first time he instituted these "rules," I wondered why and he answered,"I'm waiting for you so we can finish together." Perhaps a diplomatic future awaits--"there has to be a way for both the insurgents and the new Iraqi government to be happy."

Full disclosure

Before I mention my mistakes at performing the art of the therapeutic relationship, (or alliance as it is often called, but doesn't that seem more appropriate when discussing, for example, Venezuela, Bolivia and Cuba, or the Cylon Alliance?), I want to clarify that I graduated from my MSW program in 2004 and have only been doing clinical social work for just under three years. And when I say 'clinical social work,' I am speaking broadly because working in a grassroots community organization and a school has made my learning curve rather steep.

Under most circumstances, I do not disclose personal information to my clients. I explain that the therapeutic setting, unlike in other kinds of relationships, is about exploring only the client's thoughts and feelings and that answering personal questions would take away from the client's own ideas about what the answer might be (or something like that). I know I am not alone in considering this aspect of therapy as one of the more difficult areas to master as a new clinician and several times have smacked myself in the head after a session saying, "why, why did I answer??!!!"

In addition, working in a school or community-setting can blur the boundaries between clients and clinical social workers and has often made the issue of personal disclosure particularly stressful for me. I recall that in the first month at my job, I was asked to see a mother who had previously received individual clinical services through our program. A fellow staff member kindly introduced me to her and then reassured the client, "Don't worry, she speaks Spanish and her husband is Latino!"

And sometimes the questions make me ponder how unjust the world can be and how difficult it sometimes is to imagine living my clients' lives. I was finishing a session with one of my mothers right before school vacation a few weeks ago and as she stood up to leave, she asked me if I was traveling anywhere. I thought about our session afterwards and realized that if I were to have disclosed, she would have heard me say that I was going to la playa in her country of origin for three days—a homeland that she has not been able to visit for 19 years because of her undocumented status. I have been working with this client for three months to help her feel empowered enough to leave her husband of 20 years who has been verbally and sometimes physically abusive, and all-around controlling. In fact, she remains undocumented because although her husband successfully petitioned for her to become a permanent resident, he confiscated the paperwork and prevented her from completing the process. That was 6 years ago.

El principio

"It’s different for boys and girls. If you’re a boy and you have sex, your dad pats you on the back and says, 'Now you’re a man!' If you’re a girl and you have sex, your dad beats you up."
-8th grade boy

As a school social worker, I get to hear comments like that everyday-the stories and thoughts of children (very often not "children's stories"), told in their own words. The area in which I work is famous for having one of the highest rates of poverty in the US. From over 12 countries of origin, my student and parent population is 81% Hispanic, 13% Black, 3% Asian / Pacific Islander, and less than 2% White and American Indian (as defined by the US Census Bureau). In addition, 27% are English Language Learners . I am a Spanish Language Speaker and I am also white.

I realize that my status of being a non-person of color (a minority!) is not uncommon among public school staff in urban communities, and I have quite a few thoughts and questions about how class, race and culture shapes and affects my work—individual, family and group therapy—my understanding of the biases and assumptions I didn’t think I carried with me, and the outcomes for my clients. So I guess I would also like to write about issues of “cultural competence” on this site.

Mostly, I am starting this blog because I LOVE talking/thinking/writing about my kids and perhaps there are other folks who would care to read. I also would love to know about other people’s experiences in similar situations!