I'm a social worker – don't judge me for it

When people discover I’m a social worker, I often see that flicker of judgement cross their face – often shaped by the negative narrative seen in TV dramas and film. This unfair narrative doesn’t just hurt us professionally; it creates barriers that make it harder for us to support society’s most vulnerable people – the very individuals who need our help the most.

Recent research commissioned by Social Work England found that 44% of adults surveyed believe social workers are not respected, and the same amount (44%) say they have been part of negative conversations about social workers – which probably won’t come as a surprise to most social workers given the way the profession is often sensationalised on screen.

Some of these negative narratives include that we take children away from their families, make decisions in isolation, only support people in times of crisis and even that it is not a qualified or regulated profession.

As a child, I was brought up in one of the most deprived areas of West Midlands. I was born into a family where poverty was a driver for offending behaviour, mental health was poor, and I was sometimes left in vulnerable situations. I was reported missing on numerous occasions and involved myself with negative peer groups and offending behaviour. Aged 14, I sat in a school office being told I was permanently excluded. At 15, I was placed in the care of my local authority. With no qualifications and criminal offences already marking my record, the path ahead looked bleak. Few people believed in my potential then.

Becoming a mother aged 17 absolutely changed my life.

Today, as head of service for contextual safeguarding at Birmingham Children’s Trust, I carry that experience with me into every interaction. Having grown up in care myself, I intimately understand the difference between feeling processed by a system versus being truly seen and supported. For over 20 years, I’ve strived to be the social worker my younger self desperately needed.

Read more:

• TV portrayals of social workers are harming the profession. We need to change the script
• One in five parents of disabled children wait more than a year to be seen by social services
• One in five social workers have removed a child from their family due to horror homes

A typical workday for me usually starts the night before, where I read the newspapers or look on social media at incidents that may have involved children, preparing me for the discussions that my managers and staff need to have brought to their attention the next day.

Once I’m in the office, I respond to emails and get briefings ready to ensure that staff have arranged important meetings, and I have discussions around support for them arranging clinical supervisions. I also meet with the executive team to discuss planning and organising when there are serious incidents involving children, and I also often have higher level meetings with the police to look at any community tensions and potential consequences for victims and suspects, and plans going forward. As part of my role, I also look at the strategy behind social policy and the influences behind what endangers children.

As social workers, we work to make empowering and empathetic relationships, supporting people of all ages and many different needs such as those with learning disabilities or physical disabilities. Although we do often support people through times of crisis, there is a significant focus on prevention as part of the work we do. Our day-to-day support spans a range of functions, from help navigating the benefits system to legal knowledge and housing advice. We inspire and motivate, empower those who cannot speak for themselves, advocate for the vulnerable, persist when others give up, give hope to those who may not have any and find opportunities where none seem to exist.

The reality is that anyone could encounter a social worker at any point in their lives, and the role of a social worker certainly does have its challenges, too. Birmingham City Council is one of the largest local authorities in Europe and it is also one of the youngest cities. There are children living in the city who are in quite deprived and neglected conditions, so there is a lot of pressure on social workers in terms of demand to provide the support they need.

Ultimately, defaulting to pre-existing stereotypes about social work will only lead to an inaccurate representation of it. Recent research released as part of  Change the Script – the national campaign from Social Work England – found that more than half (54%) of adults surveyed say real stories would improve understanding and perceptions of the profession.

By sharing my journey from excluded teenager to social work leader, I hope to challenge the stories we tell about this profession. Because when society misunderstands what we do, it’s not just social workers who suffer – it’s the child waiting for someone to notice their potential, the vulnerable adult needing dignified support, the family requiring intervention without judgment. Changing this script isn’t about professional pride – it’s about ensuring that when people need us most, prejudice doesn’t stand in the way of the help they deserve.

Clair Graham is a social worker and head of service for contextual safeguarding and a consultant at Birmingham Children’s Trust. She is supporting Change the Script – the national campaign from Social Work England – which aims to tackle negative perceptions of the profession by sharing the real story of social work and the positive impact it makes to the lives of millions of people, every day.

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