A foster parent who understood the Māori children placed in her care would be in a permanent arrangement has watched those children flourish, knowing OT’s new cultural mandate means it won’t be long before social workers will come to remove them.
I have followed your courageous and compassionate journalism of OT and their systemic racism and failures … and most recently the story of reverse uplifts; horrified at the “without notice” injunction that has silenced the voices of those who can not, or are not allowed, to speak for themselves.
I am a caregiver; a misnomer that undermines the real role of parenting that my husband and I have in our foster children’s lives. Our foster children are Māori. Whilst my husband and I are not both Māori, [Editor note: one of the couple is Māori] we define ourselves as a Māori whānau. We consider ourselves culturally competent and instil in our children an understanding of colonisation; of privilege and where they fit into this complex social landscape. We try to use reo regularly; ensure all our children have access to learn Māori; to claim and own their identity. This is important to us as a whānau.
For this reason I was dismayed with the comments that I read on social media that tried to draw this situation into a debate about ethnicity. Nobody denies that the best place for any child to be is with whānau. But if this is not possible then the next best thing is that they are in a whānau who love them; who want them and who respect them as a whole person – not just a Māori child not just a child in care – but a child with potential; with the right to a secure loving home. I want them to be supported in knowing who they are; as a Māori child but also as a person; a living breathing child with a future. Not just another brown statistic that has been shifted to a more OT-acceptable column of the spreadsheet.
The attempt to whittle this down to a story about bloodlines undermines the rights of that child to be themselves as a whole person. I will always advocate that the best thing for Māori is, by Māori for Māori, but if a Māori child is happy and loved; supported in their cultural identity and has access to knowledge of their whakapapa, then re-traumising them to rewrite the OT agenda is patronising; it is cynical and smacks of the state tokenising and recolonising these children.
I want our voice heard. Our whānau voice and most importantly the voices of the children. I want them to be able to feel they have the right to say what they want and to have that listened to and embedded in the plan that will shape their destinies.
As caregivers we commit to protecting the privacy of the child. We honour this – and know that if we break this trust; we put at jeopardy the secure placements the children we care for have – it is with fear that I tell the story below; but also with anger and most importantly with love. Love for the children that we try to do the best for. The children whom we know better than any social worker. That thrive and flourish in our care. The children whose lives are controlled and manipulated by OT to satisfy a process. To tick a box. I also have another story – but it cannot be told without identifying ourselves or the child and there are too many people who can be hurt by this and I do not feel I have the right to tell that story when it is not mine to tell. I started writing that story a year ago. I felt it needed to be told but I had no voice to tell it with. I think for now it needs to remain untold by me: I still do not have that voice.
This is the story I feel like I can share; because it is becoming achingly familiar; since Melanie Reid’s brave expose of the uplift of children in secure happy safe placements.
Our journey as a foster family began a couple of years ago. We signed up and after rigorous interviews and vetting and visits that examined every aspect of our life we became transition carers.
Two years ago, siblings came to live with us. They had been in the system for years and been bumped around a number of carers and they had experienced changes in the OT social workers who managed their case. We received little information about their past; why they were in care and what their needs were.
They are lovely children; surprisingly trusting and they soon fitted into our home. It hasn’t been easy; but you don’t sign up for this thinking that it will be easy. You do it because you can, because you know you are filling a hole, that you will hopefully be able to make a change in a young person’s life that might just, you hope, be not only positive for that child, but also be the start of an intergenerational shift.
We are transition carers. When our foster children came to us it was with the understanding that a permanent arrangement for these children had not been defined. We accepted that and set about creating a settled family environment; encouraging them in their schooling and extra curricular activities. The children had not been assessed over the last few years; important diagnoses had not been made and no form of therapy had been offered. They had no extra curricular activities and no plans to support their interests.
As caregivers we are excluded from the process; made to feel intrusive and problematic if we question too much. And there will be trauma; as yet again they are removed from their hard-won loving and secure environment.
Uncertainty casts a long shadow though. No one can prepare you for the way the life of these children and the life of your whole whānau hangs in a state of suspended animation. You are in limbo; waiting; always aware that the situation may change. It undermines your sense of self; your perception of your parenting skills; it unsettles the children who are in your care permanently and the toll on your foster children is huge. You make attachments; you love each other – but the shadow is always there. For these children the shadow has stretched years.
With a change in OT social workers came a change in their care plan. OT seemed motivated to find permanency for them and a “home for life” placement started to be discussed. We were told what a wonderful job we were doing; how well the children were doing in our care. The older child particularly flourished. Opening up; growing in confidence. We found ways for them to pursue their passions and they grew; they started to glow.
So much so they are being acknowledged for their achievements in a formal awards ceremony. They are so excited. They feel acknowledged and will be going on a plane for the first time. And they deserve every accolade they get. They are an exceptional young person. OT has claimed this child’s success as theirs; my heart breaks at the systematic cynicism that underlay the process.
Recently the children’s story started to change. There may be extended whānau who want them. It looks likely that they will leave our care and it looks likely that they will leave soon. They do not know this yet. We do not know the transition plan; or even if there is a plan in place. We continue to advocate for them – to be the squeaky wheel.
We do not know what the next few weeks will bring. Long term it may be positive. I am sure they will be loved and are wanted. But now. Now it seems brutal; as someone described in an earlier article; a blunt instrument. One that is bashing the board to fix these children in a place that will satisfy the current agenda. As caregivers we are excluded from the process; made to feel intrusive and problematic if we question too much. And there will be trauma; as yet again they are removed from their hard-won loving and secure environment.
I want our voice heard. Our whānau voice and most importantly the voices of the children. I want them to be able to feel they have the right to say what they want and to have that listened to and embedded in the plan that will shape their destinies.
Because whatever happens their destinies will be changed and it is not them or the people who know them best that will do the shaping. OT controls that narrative.
