Outlanders: Hidden Narratives from Social Workers of Colour (from Black & Other Global Majority Communities)

By Wayne Reid and Siobhan Maclean

In this landmark publication, social workers from Black and other Global Majority Communities showcase a rich and diverse collection of their essays, poems, stories and reflections, providing unique and spellbinding insights.

OUTLANDERS: Hidden narratives from social workers of colour (from Black & other Global Majority Communities) captures the silenced and suppressed voices of social work students, practitioners, managers and academics. It combines a unique blend of personal and professional experiences with a sprinkle of cathartic and therapeutic creativity into a boiling cauldron of many moods. The result? Pure edutainment.

This bold and unapologetic anthology explores a range of perennial issues, including anti-racist activism; oppressive workplace environments; racial trauma and COVID-19. The authentic and cultured spirits that permeate these pages convey an ancestral force that will reverberate inside and outside of social work.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kirwin Maclean Associates Ltd
• Release date: Feb 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781912130559

Book preview

Power and Purity

- Wayne Reid

I write these words with a mixture of anticipation, trepidation and excitement…

The book you are holding was originally an idea conceived by my collaborator, Siobhan Maclean. In late 2018, Siobhan and I met at a social work event where we both had exhibition stands. We chatted and Siobhan expressed her wish to produce a book that amplified the experiences and narratives of Social Worker’s from Black and ethnic minority backgrounds (especially people of colour).

Initially, I was just keen to contribute to this book. In my over-enthusiastic stupor, I found I’d sent my submission to Siobhan within a few days of our chat. After several months of me badgering Siobhan, she explained that as an independent Social Worker, she was finding it impossible to devote much time to the project. Siobhan mentioned she wanted to find an Editor and I offered to utilise my networks to identify someone. This coincided with the COVID-19 pandemic, the brutal murder of George Floyd and the global resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement. Also, my work on anti-racism in Social Work (as part of my role at BASW) quickly accelerated. You can see examples of this work in the miscellaneous section of this anthology. Due to my passion for reinvigorating anti-racism in Social Work, I offered to undertake the Editorial role and thankfully Siobhan accepted.

My vision for this anthology is to replicate the format and vibrancy of The Good Immigrant (Shukla, 2016) and IC3: New Black Writing in Britain (Newland and Sesay, 2000). Both books I’ve read and loved. Also, I drew some inspiration from the much-revered Black Perspectives in Social Work (Ahmad, 1990). Although, this body of work specifically encapsulates the perspectives of Social Workers of colour in England. These narratives vividly illuminate the personal and professional lived experiences of Social Workers who are discriminated against based on the colour of their skin. I’m honoured to be involved with a publication of this calibre and distinction. Each contribution is priceless. Eternal thanks to all of the contributors.

So, why the book title Outlanders? Well, for me it represents a question people of colour are frequently accosted with: Where are you really from? A question we are often asked with little compassion or cognition that England might actually be where we were born. It seems that for some, we can only ever be outlanders.

I need to highlight that throughout this anthology we interchangeably refer to ‘Black and Other Global Majority Communities’, ‘people of colour’, ‘Black and Ethnic Minority’ groups and BAME. This is reflective of the complexity and subjectivity of language related to ethnicity and race. We acknowledge there is no universally acceptable definitions and terminology, but this must not hold us back from promoting racial equality. We regard ‘Black’ here as an inclusive and legal definition, which includes people who share lived experiences of the effects of institutional and structural racism.

In this anthology, you will read compelling essays on anti-racism, social work education, suicide and language. You will read reflections on career ambitions, cultural divisions and self-identity that will evoke rumination. You will read stories that will open a window your heart, that will transport you to the other side of paradise and teleport you into the future. You will read poignant poetry on microaggressions, silence and racial abuse.

The power and purity in each submission should not be underestimated. Each author entrusts you with their perspectives of their lived personal and/or professional experiences. The reality of their individual truths cannot be denied.

Having read each submission (as part of the editing process), I found the unique creations of each author were profound and conveyed deep-rooted heartfelt narratives that should be understood by all (inside and outside of social work). From the rebellion espoused in ‘Are you sure you’re in the right place?’ to the near-futurism of ‘Into the future’ to the vivid vibes projected in the ‘The other side of paradise’, this anthology will induce mixed emotions in readers which is necessary for positive change.

This anthology enables you to drape yourself with a patchwork of fabrics that is rich with cultural diversity. This rich patchwork also spotlights a dimension of social work professionalism that is often dismissed, discredited and overlooked by the dominance of white supremacy within the social work profession and society more broadly.

I’d like to finish by thanking you, the reader, for investing your time and hard-earned money in this book. I sincerely hope your interest is rewarded with lifelong edutainment and an opportunity to healthily challenge your worldview. If your passion for anti-racism is emboldened – either as a person with lived experience or as a proactive ally – then more power to you!

Ultimately, my desire is for this anthology to be considered a valuable resource to educate, empower and equip Social Workers from all backgrounds in policy, practice and education for decades to come.

‘One world, one race… the human race!’

Narratives: The golden thread of social work?

- Siobhan Maclean

As a white child growing up in and around an area of Manchester which reflected racial and cultural diversity, I became aware of my white privilege early in life, although that wasn’t a phrase that I used at the time. When I started my social work training 35 years ago, I was shocked by the whiteness of the University both in terms of the practical environment, the social work cohort and the curriculum. I remember minimal questioning of structures and institutional racism even as we explored the impact of the Brixton ‘riots’ on society. We did little on anti-racist practice and I remember the energy of the student’s union, the relationships that I made and the music and club scene at the time teaching me more about race and privilege than anything I covered on my course. Towards the end of my training, anti-racism gained momentum within social work training and I recall being challenged by different perspectives early in my career. I read ‘Black Perspectives in Social Work’ by Bandana Ahmad, now considered a classic text, which was published weeks after I qualified. I have a particularly clear memory of reading ‘The Black Student’s Voice: Report of a Black students’ conference’ (Burgess, Crosskill and La Rose-Jones 1992) when I was training to be a practice teacher (as we were called at the time) and what I learnt from this has stayed with me in the many years since. This background has influenced my strong commitment to learning from a collection of individual narratives.

Over the last few years, I have found myself looking for the narratives of students and social workers which might influence a renewed urgency about anti-racism in social work, but I couldn’t find them. I had an idea of developing a collection of narratives which I first mentioned to Wayne Reid at an event in 2018. Wayne was really keen and sent me something almost straight away, but I didn’t have much more than Wayne’s piece and an idea. Wayne’s recollection is that I was struggling to devote the time needed, on reflection I wonder if I felt out of my depth. As a white woman, what could I do? So, I asked Wayne to take the lead editorial role and the vision began to take shape. Watching events unfolding in 2020 and the murder of George Floyd, I was reminded of my white privilege, the danger of white silence and the urgency of this anthology. Working with Wayne to bring this together has been a joy. Everyone can find something in the contents of this anthology. Every time I have picked it up, I have found something different has spoken to me.

In our editorial roles, we have changed extraordinarily little. These narratives belong to the people who submitted them, and we have tried to take good care of them. My friend and colleague, Prospera Tedam (who has contributed to the anthology) said recently that it is painful to revisit the trauma of racism and being asked to speak and write about this every day. It must be incredibly traumatic. I held that in mind when we contacted people about their submissions, and we have made very few changes to the original submissions. There are differences in the language used and as Wayne explains in his preface, the terms ‘Black and Other Global Majority Communities’, ‘people of colour’, ‘Black and Ethnic Minority’ groups and BAME are used interchangeably because we use the language that the authors themselves use.

Wayne describes this collection as a rich patchwork of fabrics. In thinking about the golden thread that might weave these fabrics together I have pulled out a few of the themes that stand out to me in reading this collection. Whilst the people contributing their pieces didn’t know who else was contributing and what they would contribute, there are many ‘golden threads’ in this anthology.

Many of the pieces draw on quotations from Martin Luther King Jnr and this shows to me the importance of role models. I have been left asking myself where are the role models for social workers of colour? The essay by Diana Katoto and Omar Mohamed illustrates the way that students are looking for role models. If you can’t see yourself reflected in the profession, what does that mean for your confidence and sense of belonging? A recurring word in the anthology is invisible. The invisibilisation of social workers of colour in our profession is nothing short of scandalous. When we say that we are committed to equality and diversity, how is that reflected in what (and who) is visible in the profession? As some of the narratives included in the anthology show, the impact of COVID-19 and new ways of physically distanced working could leave people even less visible. People like Shabnam Ahmed, who shares how she has ‘found her brave’ and set up a YouTube channel are beginning to ensure there is visibility. I hope that this anthology will go some way to providing role models for the future. Certainly, I think Wayne Reid is a role model to many and the final section of this anthology demonstrates the range of work that Wayne is undertaking to demand a renewed commitment to anti-racism in the profession.

Alongside invisibility, a core theme of the anthology is silence. Syra Shakir’s poem highlights the ‘Forced Silence’ and Anneta Pinto-Young asks ‘Can I Speak?’ while Colleen Simon shares ‘The things I couldn’t say’. In fact, silence was a core theme in the actual process of compiling the narratives. A couple of people initially submitted their contributions anonymously (indeed one person used the pen name ‘Silenced’). Having spoken to these authors as the book came together, they decided that they would like to include their names. I am glad that they feel that they do not need to be silenced in the anthology but am equally sad that silence is a core theme in both the process and the product of what we have done. Ironically though it is impossible to read this book in silence. I have gasped, shouted, cried and at times even laughed as I have read the contents over and over. I implore you, as a reader, do not continue the silence in social work. Silence kills!

Sometimes people talk about a book giving people a voice. This book does not do that. All of the authors in this collection have, and already had, a voice. It is their voice. It is not for anyone else to give. This book though does provide a much-needed platform for a collection of voices. Ellah Kandi in ‘Determined by Fortitude to Overcome’ shares her experiences of belonging to a choir. I hope this book provides a choir for the individual voices brought together that will ‘break the silence’ (Syra Shakir). The music created by that choir is at times disturbing and challenging but it is always powerful when voices sing in unison.

Where people are neither seen nor heard, is it any wonder that trust becomes a key issue? Trust, or the lack of it, is certainly a recurring theme in the submissions. In her reflection, Irine Mano tells us that she had to trust the medical professionals helping me and yet both Jean Dillon and Eddie Dube tell us, in the essays section, that there is a mistrust of health services. Eddie Dube goes on to powerfully explain that an ‘us and them’ mentality thrives on mistrust. Even in the stories section trust sits as a core theme, particularly in Asmaat Khan’s dynamic and disturbing story. Trust is a key aspect of relationships, so an exploration of this theme and what we can do to rebuild trust and connections must be a question for every reader.

Wayne suggested that dedications or shout outs from each author could be included in this anthology. If I am honest, this isn’t something I would have thought of. I have written a number of things and have rarely done a dedication, but I have even found that reading these has been uplifting and enlightening. The number of authors who have referred to their practice educators has reinforced my commitment to my practice educator role. The dedications have demonstrated to me that practice educators can (and do) make a real difference not just while a student is on placement, but also through a social worker’s career.

In compiling the submissions into sections, I have found myself uncertain about what would be best where and things have moved around a few times! What makes an essay and what makes a reflection may not always be clear, but what is clear is that there are key messages which weave together the submissions whatever category they are in. Jennifer Simpson’s essay on ‘the language of deficit’ really speaks to me as a practice educator, but the links between that essay, the poem ‘Tainted dream’ (S Abraham) and Cosmas Maruta’s reflection ‘the comment’ are so clear. The power of language!

We left the call for submissions very fluid and open in an attempt not to limit voices. I was particularly surprised by the number of poems we received. I have never thought of myself as a poetry fan. Having endured ‘poetry appreciation’ lessons at school, I can’t say I have ever appreciated it! However, the poems section has had a profound impact on me emotionally. I notice that in his preface Wayne states that mixed emotions are ‘necessary for positive change’. As part of the compiling and editing process, I have needed to read this collection many times and it has taken me on an emotional rollercoaster. A few times I have laughed at some of the humour used, I have often cried but most of all I have been angry. I kept on asking myself why? Why are social workers, spaces, systems and structures treating people this way? Of course, ‘why?’ is always a key question in social work. Contemporary leadership approaches call on leaders, managers and organisations to ‘start with why’ and ‘find your why’ (Sinek 2009). In my view good social work should have ‘why?’ not just at the start but also at the heart. Maybe, in fact, ‘why?’ is the golden thread of these narratives.

Through my social work career, I have used the very basic What? Why? How? framework (Maclean, Finch and Tedam 2018). This anthology helps to explore:

• What is racism?

• Why is it happening?

• How can it be challenged?

As a white social worker, I recognise that I need to ask myself:

• What is my role in this?

• Why am I doing this?

• How can I change?

I am incredibly proud of this anthology and what it brings to social work. The initial vision that I had has taken me on a powerful and enjoyable learning journey and I am humbled to have been involved in bringing these narratives together. We have priced the book to make it as accessible as possible to everyone and all the profits will go to the Social Worker’s Benevolent Trust (Wayne’s choice) so it will give to the profession in the future in many ways.

The SHARE model (Maclean, Finch and Tedam 2018) illustrates that we are influenced by Seeing, Hearing, Action, Reading and Evaluation. I have referred to the connecting threads in this anthology around seeing and hearing. Eddie Dube’s essay tells us that what was different about George Floyd was that we ‘saw him’. I hope that what is shared in this anthology means that not only might readers see things differently, but that each of us will take action because of what the voices we have heard and the narratives we have read. The thread I referred to in relation to the power of language provides us with a clear shared action plan.

As we were doing the final proofs of the collection, a dear friend and colleague died as a result of COVID-19. I have been working with Paul Yusuf McCormack for many years. Yusuf was a great ally to our profession, despite the fact that at the start of his life he was robbed of his birth name and cultural identity by the care system. Yusuf was a giant of a man, the very role model that I have talked about in this preface. Isaac Newton famously said, If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants. This collection of narratives illustrates the past, present and future and we stand on the shoulders of the giants who have contributed. On my part this book is dedicated to Yusuf who called on us not to ‘make a difference’ but rather to ‘BE the difference’.

What can we do to BE the difference? I will leave the answer to one of the authors in this collection. In the poem ‘the flames of racism’ Narinder Sidhu, says:

Love is always the way, just ask those who have felt it.

References

Burgess, R. Crosskill, D. and La Rose-Jones, L. (1992) The Black Student’s Voice: Report of a Black students’ conference. (London) CCETSW.

Maclean, S., Finch, J. and Tedam, P. (2018) SHARE: A New Model for Social Work. (Lichfield) Kirwin Maclean Associates.

Sinek, S. (2009) Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action. (London) Penguin.

- Maris Stratulis

I am proud and honoured on behalf of BASW England to support the partnership development and collaboration of all contributors to this book and for the hard work, passion and dedication of the Editors, Wayne Reid and Siobhan Maclean, in making this anthology come to fruition.

Racism denies history, heritage, identity, self-definition and voice. Racism murders and kills. The impact of the brutal death of George Floyd (and the resurgence of the global Black Lives Matter movement) not only highlights overt racism, but the daily interconnected microaggressions that Black and Ethnic Minority people experience on a daily basis, including verbal, behavioural and environmental social injustices - both intentional and unintentional, overt and covert.

The voices within this anthology are rich in diversity, strong, moving, poignant and powerful – as allies we must listen, learn and take action to collectively challenge all forms of racism. Contributors have shared their personal history, experiences and wisdom with honesty and courage. As allies read this anthology - discuss it, promote it, share it within your professional and personal life and amplify the experiences and narratives of Social Worker’s from Black and Ethnic Minority backgrounds.

This is an important resource for social work students, social workers, educators, policy makers, colleagues, family members, friends, allies, children and young people. Challenge and be challenged to influence, shape and change social work now and in the future.

Maris Stratulis

BASW England National Director

What do universities think intelligence looks like?

- Dr. Prospera Tedam

Ask any Black academic in the United Kingdom and I am certain they will have the visible or invisible scars of racism to show for their time in the academy. I applaud any UK Higher Education Institution (HEI) that takes equality and diversity seriously and has clear, robust, and straightforward process for formalising grievances of racism. I say this because although all HEI’s will have policies, it is rare to find that these policies are user friendly. In a sense, they can feel like a deliberate ploy to frustrate or discourage formal grievances from being made.

In this piece, I examine one of my many experiences of racism and reflect on the title of this paper adapted from Edo-Lodge (2017) – what do universities think intelligence looks like?

During my career in higher education in England I have on occasion been brought to tears by racist behaviour. I have talked about some of these experiences in public and I have written about others in my scholarly work. Here, I recount one incident that left me pained, bruised, and questioning whether I belonged in this space of academia.

I arrived at work one morning at my University and was speaking on my phone outside the building where my office was located. It was around 9:00am and as I was on the phone, a White man comes out interrupts me and says, ‘you’re late’. I look up at him momentarily and continue speaking, thinking he probably was not talking to me. He leaves then returns a second time shouting ‘I will not tell you again, you’re late and if you continue on your phone, you won’t be allowed to take the exam’. I came off the phone briefly, and asked ‘what exam’? At which point he calmed down slightly and said, ‘the midwifery resit exam’.

With pain in my soul, I ended my call and said ‘why do you think I am coming for an exam? I am a Senior Lecturer in Social Work and my office is in this building. He responded, ‘I’m sorry but I thought you were coming to take this exam and we are missing one candidate so I thought it might be you’. He attempted to hurry away, and I went in pursuit to the room where this exam was taking place. There, I saw a room full of Black women taking the said exam. I asked the man his name and told him I would be making a formal complaint to the university Examination Unit.

In the interaction described above, overt, and institutional racism is being played out. There are a few questions here for readers to reflect upon:

What sort of training had this exam invigilator received to support him with his role?

What messages had he internalised over the years about Black students’ intellectual and academic abilities?

How is it ok to walk up to someone and address them in a racist and sexist manner from a position of privilege?

I share these stories not to create despair but rather to offer hope and some ideas about ways in which we might respond to similar incidents in the future. I also present them as a counter narrative to what may have been told by someone else.

My silence will not protect me

I did not stay silent. As Audre Lorde once asked; ‘who wins if we don’t speak’? Not us.’ I emailed the Exams Unit and when I received no response, I went to see them in person. There I met a member of the team who apologised but seemed unsure of what to do next. I sought out the Course Team whose exam it was and notified the module leader about what had occurred. Finally, I sent an email to the Dean of my Faculty copying both the Exam Unit and the Midwifery Course Team expressing my dissatisfaction not only at the way I had been treated but also about how it came to be that all the students re-taking that exam were Black women when the midwifery profession and student composition was largely white. I put it to them that racism was at play and they needed to seriously address institutional forms of racism. I took the opportunity