We have to do a little mental editing here, so that the chair looks less Catholic, more corporate--a low quality chrome frame and tan tweed-ish upholstery. And then that sweet little gal should be me, in my 'you don't pay me enough to look less trashy' pseudo-real job wear. The book would be a bulky and poorly organized DCFS manual. And the answer would be: it IS all bullshit.

I was supposed to lead a discussion of race in child welfare practice today, the day of days, MLK Day, which we do not honor at my agency. We ended up not discussing race, or the social function of child welfare, of course, but in my preparation I reached a cold hard sad part of things. The fact that child welfare is "an institution designed to monitor, regulate, and punish poor families of color." The idea that, much like prisons, we may be doing more aggregate damage than good in our effort to create safety, mythical safety. The slow shift from thinking that sometimes the system hurts people to thinking that the main product of the child welfare system is damaged people.

You know what I'm doing? I'm making it easier to go. I have got to go, not because I can't ethically stand it anymore, but because I can't pay my bills. I'm trying to make a way out for myself because I am all tied up with child welfare, and the rage and the pain of it, and I'm angry that I can't stay here and bitch because I'll end up being either bankrupt or writing bad checks. Not that the system isn't a soul crushing machine, but it's the one I love. For the man himself, for Dr. King, I'll be honest and loving in the face of wickedness, my own and others.