Here’s a preview of what it’s like to be a concerned and conscious Black social worker: It’s saddening to see minorities outnumber any other race (or ethnic group) in the justice system; it’s difficult beyond words trying to help people within a rigged and broken system; it feels like running uphill when you’re out of shape; there’s so much resistance that it feels like a bad idea to even try; sometimes, I’ve wondered if there have been racial slurs or condescending/stereotypical remarks used behind closed doors within private circles and conversations; it’s hurtful when violence steals a youth’s life; it’s disturbing to hear youth explain why they have nothing to lose or live for; it’s angering to be referred to as a gatekeeper and realize that you’re what stands between a child and a monster that was created to devour you both. The tricky part is feeling pressured to conceal knowledge that you are just as much prey as the child (along with everyone else who looks like you) and having to engage the dominant culture -all while appearing non-threatening, professional according to their standards, less expressive, and self-muted.

One day I was sitting at lunch as I thought about the systems of our country. I realized how difficult it is for a child to win with statistics stacked against them. Working with youth involved in the juvenile justice system has made the covert plans for Blacks apparent. But the justice system isn’t the only system that oppresses Blacks: There’s the workforce, education, healthcare, housing, plus some. Admittedly, I took the job thinking I would be satisfied if I could help a handful of kids out of the slew I've encountered. I lied to myself. Seeing the slew fall and drug between the cracks became disheartening to the point of tears. I felt like I was a part of a losing battle. I wanted to leave social work. I wasn’t sure where I thought I was going. I only knew I would wear myself out in a fixed fight. I finished my lunch and returned to work without sharing my heart or thoughts with anyone. Somehow, my will to fight returned. I’m still in the field.

Don't be confused by any of the above. I love my job, I love the youth, and I love the endless list of possibilities. Any Social Worker or therapist (I'm both) can tell you that we have our days. But, we also have our rewards. Mine are seeing youth on the up and up; watching youth grow and apply what they've gained from the sessions or groups; and one of my personal favorites, the opportunity to plant good seeds into the soils of our society.

Long story short, I didn’t quit that day. I don't know that I’ll be a social worker or therapist forever; or that my length of employment in this field will merit I can “retire” from the profession. My life and those tied to it are full of purpose. My job is by providence. It would be cowardice and irresponsible to leave my post. Needless to say, I’ll be here for however long “a while” is. So, it’s ethics, prayer, good vibes, advocacy, and self-care until my next assignment…