Dear care experienced people, I don't think discrimination is our biggest problem

Dear young care-experienced people,

I’m writing this blog directly to you, because you are the young change makers and aspiring advocates who are working so hard on this campaign to make care experience a protected characteristic. I know many of you believe that making care experience a protected characteristic will lead to big changes for our community.

I don’t believe it will. And I want to tell you why.

Before I do, I want you to know I am not challenging your story or the things you’ve been through, I am challenging what this campaign tells us is the problem and their proposed solution.

These two things are very different.

This campaign implies that if we make care experience a protected characteristic, it will fix issues we have in these areas: housing, employment, health, education and relationships.

I really wish that was true, but it’s not.

The biggest problems in these areas are that:

• we haven’t been able to find enough stable, loving homes,
• we don’t have enough psychiatrists to support our mental health,
• we don’t support social workers well enough for them to stay,
• we haven’t given teachers the understanding they need to look after us,
• worst of all, the system haven’t prepared us properly for independence.

None of this is our fault. But it’s the world we’ve being asked to grow up in. That doesn’t mean the system and its people discriminate against us; however, it does mean that it has failed. And there's something more sensitive that impacts us that I want to speak to you about.

Trauma.

This is what I think is the biggest issue.

Trauma is not our fault. It’s a wound, not a weakness.

I’m not saying trauma replaces discrimination or system failure. I’m saying it runs alongside them, and it causes damage that law can’t fix.

Before I talk about trauma, this campaign is likely going to accuse me of “victim blaming”. What that means is blaming someone for what’s happened to them, something I would never do. I can’t tell you how trauma has impacted you, but I can tell you how it impacted me.

You’ve so generously shared your story and views, so in return I want to share some of mine. Maybe you will relate to my story, maybe you won’t. Either is ok.

For those who don’t know me, my name is Luke Rodgers. I came into care when I was 10 years old, taken from a home that wasn’t safe. In care, I moved around a lot, lost social workers, and struggled to concentrate at school. By 15, I had “left” care altogether. I still remember sitting in my social worker’s car that night as she phoned her manager, who said: “It’s Luke’s responsibility to find somewhere to stay tonight.”

I was placed into bed-and-breakfast accommodation with adults who were in pain. They were soothing their suffering in unhealthy ways. Alcohol bottles littered bedrooms, needles scattered shared bathrooms, and sorrow lingered in corridors.

Every night I sat in the cinema of my mind, watching the history of my life unfold, and processed what had happened to me. I thought about all the relationships I’d lost, all the homes that couldn’t keep hold of me, and how I’d failed at school.

My anger battled with sadness. Clenched fists fought with teary eyes.

I came to a painful question: had the system failed me, or had I not allowed it to help? The answer was both.

The reality for me is that the pain, shame and hate I felt were manifestations of trauma that stopped me allowing myself the life I deserved. One of the biggest things that helped me begin to heal was forgiveness. Forgiveness for myself, and for the system that had failed me.

I’m not saying this is your experience. I’m sharing mine.

I suspect you’re fighting so hard for this campaign because you want life to be better for care-experienced people.

So do I.

But I want to be honest with you: I worry that we’re putting too much hope into something the law can’t fix. I know you believe this campaign will change things. I’m not asking you to drop that hope.

But I am going to ask you to interrogate it.

I want you to ask yourself:

What are the biggest challenges care-experienced people face and what do we need to overcome them?

Next, I want you to turn that into a question and ask it directly to the campaign:

“Will making care experience a protected characteristic change this? If so, how?”

Listen to their answer carefully, mindfully and respectfully. Be curious, not furious, and investigate.

If I look at my own life, my questions are simple:

• Will this cure trauma?
• Will it make sure I stop changing social worker?
• Will it stop me feeling lonely at Christmas?
• Will it find me somewhere to live forever?
• Will it quiet the voice that tells me I’m not good enough, even when the people around me say I’m loved?

Those are my biggest battles. And because of the work I do, I know they’re the battles many other care-experienced people face too.

Before I leave you to develop your question, I want you to know something else. My story didn’t end in that bedsit.

At 19, I started sharing my story as a care leaver. Back then, I was fighting for little Luke. In some way, I believed that if I fixed the system, it would fix me. Now I’m 35, a former fellow at the University of Oxford Fellow and I’m shaping systems as a care leader. Today I work with leaders, build new services, and help other care-experienced people do the same.

I don’t fight for little Luke anymore. I fight for you.

I didn’t get to where I am now by being the loudest voice. I got here by asking the right questions.

Now, you go and ask yours.