Boatrocking at Work: Improving Ethics in Social Services

boatrocking

This article is being published in recognition of National Social Work Month, which recognizes the dedication and empathy social workers across the country deliver while providing services to children and adults in need.

In my early twenties, I was told so many times that I had a “strong personality” that it became laughable. Most often, this happened at work, in helping organizations.

I tried to make my personality less passionate, less loud, less direct. I tried to perform passivity, learn my place and take up less space. Despite this, I have still been in way more workplace conflict than I ever would have wished for or expected.

Sometimes I think the issue wasn’t having a strong personality, but about being spectacularly naive. I believed bosses when they said the workplace operated as a “team.” Or that they had an “open door policy,” or when they said, “please bring forward your concerns and ideas.” I really thought my opinion was welcome and that it mattered. I quickly learned it wasn’t. That didn’t stop my opinions from spilling out of me anyway.

The thing is I have a lot of opinions about improving ethics in social services.

I’ve worked at a series of helping organizations as a support worker, project coordinator and educator for 15 years. At times, I was right to change my behavior, whether in the interest of diplomacy, self-preservation or creating space for people who needed it. It’s true that sometimes I needed to better manage my tone, expression, timing, or even my volume. I hate to say it, but I’ve been wrong and learned some lessons the hard way. So I got better with all the “I feel” statements and asking questions instead of commenting. I worked hard at not being over-vigilant about social justice issues at work. I worked on emotion regulation, went to workshops on “calling in” instead of “calling out.”

While I did what I was told, I’ve never managed to be perceived as a compliant employee.

If Only They Knew How Often I Bite My Tongue

Oh, to be a fly on the wall when the managers talk about me. I’m guessing I’d hear, “Difficult to manage,” “non-compliant,” “defiant,” “inflexible,” “strident,” “opinionated,” “combative.” I betchya they say, “How will we handle Audrey?” They probably call me a bitch over beers.

I would talk to managers about overwork, unfair service restrictions, or the lack of consultation before problematic decisions were imposed upon staff or clients. Already exhausted, I have said, “I’ve brought these concerns forward and nothing has changed.”

I’ve been told to “choose my battles.” I was too impatient about the funding deficits and the slow pace of change and needed to trust the process. An HR manager suggested I read Difficult Conversations. Honestly, I think these well-meaning, hardworking folks probably thought their suggestions could actually be helpful. But what did this kind of advice accomplish? It allowed them to ignore the content of my concerns, and position me as the problem instead of the organization. Thus, it was a very effective means of side-stepping responsibility.

Once a manager quoted the Serenity Prayer to me. I wanted to scream. I don’t know how I could possibly have been serene in that environment.

It’s Not Like I Was Arguing Over Small Things

Once we were dealing with a young man with really difficult behaviors. He had a life-threatening illness that he was leaving untreated due to being suicidal. His cognitive capacity, ability to emotionally regulate, and physical condition were all in a terrible state. He was also really mad at the world for traumatizing and oppressing him his whole life.

As a result, he was delivering valid complaints at top intensity, constantly escalating situations in the shelter, making wild accusations and hurling verbal abuse at staff and youth. A decision came down one day that he would be kicked out.

I started to feel panicky. I took a breath and said, “I think these behaviors are very bad but I also think this is one of the most marginalized youth we have ever worked with. Last time he was discharged, he stayed on the street and stopped taking his medication. I am concerned if we kick him out, he will literally die. I’m not sure if I can handle that on my conscience.”

The manager replied, “I can.”

She literally said that.

She added, “If he sleeps outside instead of going to a shelter, that’s his decision.” I said, “I am not sure that he is capable of making decisions right now. Can we let him stay until we can get him a hospital bed?” (If he’d been a less difficult client engaging in such blatant self-harm, he would’ve been taken to the hospital already.) His case manager advocated, too; he was still kicked out.

Thankfully, another agency tracked him down and got him connected to health care and housing. When he came back stabilized on his meds, he was like a whole new person. The manager suggested the improvement was a result of her harsh boundary. I did not agree.

Being a Boatrocker Can Turn Out Well

Once, in a staff meeting, someone said a youth’s service restriction should be over, saying, “Time served.” I said, “Hey, I just realized this, honestly, but the phrase ‘time served’ is what they say in jail, and this isn’t jail, so it doesn’t seem right.” People agreed, and a few people even remembered to change their language. The humble, earnest, questioning approach for the win!

In another staff meeting, a manager mishandled a decision about a fight, leaving two young men in close proximity where they could hurt each other again. I had been doing a lot of diplomacy and staying out of things, but I was suddenly fed up. My “strong personality” emerged once again. In front of everyone, I blurted, “Why did you do that? You’re the manager.” The manager – and the rest of the room — looked at me with wide eyes. There were three beats of silence before she stumbled over a poor excuse.

I’ve become used to that look; that silence. I’d found gentler ways to speak my mind, but I still surprised people with my directness. I can only remember one other time being so publically confrontational with a boss, and it doesn’t feel good. At the break, I walked around the block and sobbed. Then I dried my face and returned for one hour more of a soul-destroying meeting. That manager mysteriously disappeared.

Another Win, Maybe.

I later found a moment to give my colleagues the feedback that it was cold and scary out there on a limb, being the only one saying the thing that everyone else was thinking. I can’t count the number of times someone thanked me for what I said in a meeting or training. My colleagues told me they would sometimes think, “Oh I don’t want to say it; Audrey will say it.” And they were usually right. In a way, it was a relief to know my ability to speak up was helpful. But it was also frustrating to not be backed up. Of course, I am going to look like the boatrocker if I am the only one visibly rocking.

I know I am not the only shit-disturber in social services. There’s one or two in every agency. I doubt there is a social worker out there who hasn’t tried to advocate for their clients, themselves, or colleagues. I’ve watched many colleagues try to speak truth to power and be knocked back.

We all know that being a shit-disturber comes with a cost – a cost to our mental health, to our relationships at work, and to our careers. Recently a contract I was finishing up wasn’t renewed. Reading between the lines, the reason was seen as too difficult to manage.

It’s in My Blood

I come from a legacy of outspoken helpers who empowered many people but struggled in their careers. My grandfather was a sociologist for the Canadian government; he clashed with a boss in his 40s and decided to pick up his family and move to Belize.

My mother was a counsellor who practiced her beliefs of working hard, being kind, avoiding conflict and being helpful to colleagues and clients. Her bosses didn’t like her opinions either; she’s now an energy healer working for herself.

In our family, we have strong convictions and confident carriage even when we don’t feel confident. Combined, those qualities are read by managers and some colleagues as some kind of superiority, arrogance or righteousness. I suppose that makes sense. It makes sense, too, that if managers only ever interact with you when you’re pushing back at them in meetings, then they’re going to see you as a shit-disturber. They don’t see the hard work and the kindness, so their whole story about you is the defiance.

Is the Answer to Never Dissent?

Should we only complain behind the backs of managers and occasionally admit our real opinions through anonymous surveys? That doesn’t seem like the right answer either. If you have the right answer, please let me know.

I’ve been working out where my strong personality will fit, and where my virtues will be valued. In the business I am building, I work with boatrockers like me who are tired from rocking and need to reclaim their mental health. My expertise also serves folks who want the confidence and language to speak up.

Some people reading this may think I am more than a strong personality, in a bad way. I hope not. I hope that some of you recognize the struggle to help your organizations practice anti-oppressive ethics, and are relieved to hear your own experience articulated. Maybe “boatrocker” will continue to be our role to play, or maybe we will find another way.


audrey

Audrey Batterham

  

Audrey Batterham is a community educator and counsellor in Tkaranto (Toronto, Canada). Right now she is building her own business and facilitating women’s empowerment groups, but she worked with homeless youth for over a decade. She managed harm reduction leadership projects, and also did a lot of crisis intervention and counselling. Audrey is pleased to share her writing, and hopes that her reflections on the field will bring awareness and change. She loves comedy, her nephews, and days where she doesn’t have to do anything.

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