From Foster Care to Social Worker
I remember this experience like it was yesterday: there was a lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach as I was being told that I would be living with my grandmother whom I love dearly. I was going from place to place with my mom and at some point, I was diagnosed with scabies. I was 7 years old when my grandmother made an extremely hard decision to call the Department of Children and Family Services (DCFS) due to my mother’s lack of parenting and substance abuse. I would worry and wonder when my mother would return after dropping me off and leaving me at my grandmother’s house for days. It was now coming to an end; we were going to have a place to call HOME. At that moment, the feeling of abandonment and loss of attachment set in… no mom or dad. Who would have thought a little girl that wanted to be a lawyer’ first encounter with a courtroom would be her own case in Edelman’s Children’s Court? Walking into the courtroom nervous, teary eyed, sick to my stomach, and hearing a judge order visits with my dad who also had been absent and inconsistent for so many years. I was hurt and angry and wondered how and why this had to happen to me.
Imagine having to navigate a system of the unknown after taking on the responsibility of your grandchildren, after raising seven children of your own; this was my grandmother… starting her life all over again. My very first social worker was a tall African American man. When I first met him, in my head I said, “here we go again, what is this man going to do for us”. However, this man was not who I expected, he was empathetic, knowledgeable, patient, caring, and helped my grandmother navigate the foster care system. He helped her understand what was best so that my mother would retain her parental rights and when she maintained her sobriety, she would be able to regain custody. During our first encounter it was said that the social worker would have to visit our schools. The feeling of disgust, and sickness came over me. I thought, not only does my mother or father not attend school functions, I had to have a social worker make his monthly visit to the school as well. I was devastated to say the least, however, he put my mind at ease. He visited the school, talked to the teacher, and then made a special trip to my grandmother’s house for our visits. His ability to provide empathy and his commitment to children has remained with me all this time. He helped to decrease some of the trauma that could be experienced when you are in the foster care system.
Who would have thought that I would have stayed in the foster care system until I was 18 years old? At the tender age of 14 I was introduced to who I recall as my last social worker. She was this tall Caucasian woman that stood about 6ft tall and I remember thinking, “what does she want, and how can she help this little black girl. I am over the foster care system and just ready for the court process to end”. My assumption of my new social worker was that she knew nothing about Compton or black children except for what the media portrayed. To my surprise, she exceeded my expectations connecting me not only to independent living services but also opportunities to work, grow and to assist with preparing me for college. She ensured that I received services after I graduated from high school and while I was attending San Diego State University. When I moved to San Diego to go to college, she made sure that I received a clothing allowance, fees for books, fees for summer school and funds to purchase items for my apartment.
Although, being detained from my parents and going into the foster care system was traumatizing, DCFS and my social workers played a pivotal role in my life from the age of 7 – 21 which I attribute to the tremendous supports that was provided to me. While I was eager to no longer be involved in the process (DCFS), I learned to be open and have patience. This experience taught me to trust the process… abandonment, attachment issues, codependency, coping, healing and now I am a Social Worker … GROWTH is a JOURNEY.
