Now, for all my social work pals who have taken a Groups class, you will be familiar with the term "storming" from the stages of group/team development as described by Bruce Tuckman. For my non-social work pals, the stages he describes are forming, storming, norming, performing, and adjourning. These are all pretty self-explanatory and I'm not here to teach a Groups class, but let me focus on the stage I describe in this post: storming.
In the storming stage of group development, as groups begin to move toward their goals as set in the forming stage, group members start to realize that they cannot live up to their initial excitement and expectations. At this stage, conflict and competition are at their peak and it is often in this stage that groups and teams begin to assign blame. It is in the storming phase that many teams fail.
Don't panic. I/we at Botshabelo haven't "failed." It has, however, been a difficult time while I/we define my role here, learn to trust one another, and pass through tests of worthiness and fitness to be here. In fact, I think that's why it's taken me so long to post this (apart from internet difficulties). I wasn't sure how to communicate my experience and perhaps I'm still not quite, but I'm going to give it a try.
Tammy, my faculty liaison/field instructor and social work mentor, always says, "trust the process." Usually, I am also a huge proponent of this statement. Circumstances here, however, are anything but "usual," and sometimes the process can be an apparent sadist. Things here can swing from one extreme to another in no time. I'd go from having a really affirming therapeutic interaction with a child to an overwhelmingly frustrating and lonely roadblock in taking family histories or my accounting assignment.
I am incredibly grateful to have been reading what I was when I first arrived and throughout my first month here: the work of Houston-based social work researcher Brené Brown, PhD, LMSW. Her theory of shame, shame resilience, and the concept of daring greatly have guided me through this storming stage so far with more stability, compassion and self-confidence than I believe I could have mustered on my own. If you haven't read her books, DO IT NOW! Whether you're a social worker or no, it's some of the most enlightening and impactful reading I've ever done and has changed my perspective on so many things in my life, work, and relationships. Not convinced? Want a preview? Check out her TED Talks from 2010 and 2012 right NOW NOW! I'll wait . . .
Incredible, right?! Now what does Brené Brown have to do with Botshabelo? Quite a lot, as a matter of fact. I realized relatively quickly after my arrival that the things that were making it so difficult for me to find my way here were all connected in a culture of shame. I think I could write an entire journal article about that element of my time here (and I might), but I'll try to boil it down into a digestible, blog-length description.
The thing hanging over absolutely everything that happens here, every decision that is made, every comment, every interaction, every disciplinary action, is trauma. There is the first-hand trauma experienced by the children who call this place their home or their school. There is the vicarious trauma experienced by the Cloete family who founded and run this place. And then there is the vicarious trauma experienced by the visitors, volunteers, and students like myself who are only here for a short time.
Just imagine a life where the people who were meant to protect you and keep you safe as an infant and child were the very people who hurt and exploited you, leading to damages to your physical health, mental health, and relational health. Imagine being taken away from all of that harm only to find that you fear your savior as much as you love her. Now imagine a life where even in the apparently "safe" environment you've created for these children you dealt with trauma, its aftershocks, death, crime, and crisis every single day without ceasing. Imagine that you have been doing it for over 25 years. And finally, imagine a life of privilege that is suddenly thrown into stark contrast with the poverty and traumatic histories surrounding you in a new environment.
Now think for moment how all of these different lives and perspectives might interact. What conflicts would arise? What alliances? What fears? What learning could take place?
In all of these perspectives interacting, I often find myself having to pause, "call deep on my courage" and compassion, as Brené has said, and examine what is really about me and what is not. More often than not, what initially feels like is about me, absolutely is not. This realization so often leads to the next critical step: empathy. As Dr. Brown's explanation of shame tells us, it cannot survive being doused with empathy. If I can move through my own shame toward resilience, I can find compassion for the people whose words or actions sent me into shame in the first place. I can also shorten the time and distance between experiencing a shame trigger and finding empathy.
For example, about a week and a half ago I had one of the most challenging conversations of my short social work career and possibly of my life. In that conversation I was told that I was difficult to talk to, too quiet, not proactive enough, and that perhaps too much had been expected of me . . . in those exact words . . . OUCH. In less than five minutes, nearly every one of my shame triggers was hit. At another time in my life I might have collapsed, internalized the criticism as being evidence of my unworthiness (shame), and pined to give up. Instead, however, with the voices of my mother and father, Tammy, and Brené Brown whispering in my ear, I was able to remain calm, genuinely invite the feedback, and find self-compassion. I am not difficult to talk to and while I am often quiet, particularly in new situations, this simply makes me observant, capable of holding space for others, and a damn good therapist. "Not proactive enough" was really just a comment on differing styles. And finally, no one expected too much of me because no matter what, I AM ENOUGH.
Now, I would love to lie to you and say that all of this came together quickly and easily and I never felt the warm wash of shame or the sting of their comments. 'Twas not so. It hurt. A lot. And there were times when I was screaming reactions in my head like, "Perhaps you DID expect too much of me because, as it turns out, I'm not a god damn mind reader!" Hey, nobody's perfect. And as much as this conversation hurt, I'm glad it happened. It clarified a lot of things for me about how relationships here operate, others' perceptions of me, and my own strength. I'm also pleased to report that this isn't the flavor of all of my interactions here, especially where the kids are concerned, and they, after all, are the reason I'm here in the first place.
When I applied for and accepted this placement, I did so with the understanding that there would be lessons for me here that I couldn’t even fathom at the time. I was right. These are not the lessons I necessarily came here to learn, but I’m trying to trust the process and find ways to connect these lessons back to my primary goals here as a student, professional, and person. It’s going to be painful and uncomfortable and challenging and it might be just what I need, at least some of the time.
It also hasn't all been challenging and difficult, either. There have been some really quality moments over the last couple of weeks. For example, the kids started the afternoon doing community work last Wednesday, but ended up swimming and playing in the muddy dam trying (and succeeding) to catch catfish for Botshabelo to farm! We sat on the banks, enjoying some watermelon and the lovely weather in the setting sun, and watched the kids having the time of their lives and celebrating like made any time they managed to catch one of the fish!
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| Catfish catchin'! |
The other good news is that I've had some support through this tough time that I didn't have in my first week. I mentioned before that a volunteer had arrived. She left yesterday, but her presence made all the unbearable things bearable simply by being able to talk about them with someone else who truly understood and saw the same things I saw. I have truly cherished our time together and will miss our afternoon walks and our dinners together (she is a chef and owns her own restaurant and insisted on cooking for me . . . it was rough).
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| Me & Anne just before she left Botshabelo . . . for now . . . |
Another group also left today after a brief stay here at Botshabelo. They were a group of 14 Norwegian high school seniors and three of their teachers. The school has sent student groups for many years now and have done some incredible work around Botshabelo. Unfortunately, as so often happens in environments filled with crisis, poverty, and trauma, life happens and the projects don't always survive to their full potential. This year, the group worked to revamp some gardens they had planted two years ago. In the process, I got to know the teachers very well and was so grateful for their input and perspective, having been here in years past, and for their support and kindness. And now I have friends in Norway! Pretty cool, if you ask me.
There was also a really fantastic show put on for Anne and the Norwegians before they left. The goodbyes were emotional, but reaffirmed the importance of my time here. These kids cherish these visits from outsiders and I need to keep reminding myself of that.
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| The Norwegian group sings in their farewell concert! |
The only other news from this last week is that I pitched an idea to Marion about the sex education program with which she wants me to assist her. When I was volunteering at the Lobamba Youth Centre in Swaziland in the first two weeks of my year of traveling that began nearly five years ago and led me to the path that would become a career in social work, I used a packet of materials called "Auntie Stella." It is a sex education program designed in Zimbabwe specifically to be used with young people in southern Africa. None of this trying to take a program developed in the US or Europe and changing all the pictures to have black people in them! These are real-life situations that apply to the specific experiences of adolescents in this region of the world. It's set up like an agony aunt column, á la Dear Abby, where people are writing in for advice. The group discusses each situation (in whatever language they prefer) and comes to a decision as to how they would advise the person. Then, they read Auntie Stella's response which includes factual information and culturally sensitive material. The entire thing is available for FREE online, so . . . can you say "BONUS!?" Have a look at it here, if you're interested. It's pretty cool and extremely enlightening in terms of the issues that young people face in their daily lives in Africa. Anyway, Marion was very intrigued and pointed out a few topics that she thought would be particularly useful and appropriate for the older children here at Botshabelo:
- I had an STI--Am I infertile?
- My girlfriend's pregnant!
- My sugar daddy treats me badly
- I want to have sex like all my friends!
- Should I sleep with him?
It can be jarring to read through the materials as a privileged American, but it is uncomfortable in the most profoundly useful way, in my opinion. Check it out and let me know your thoughts/reactions!
Anyway, I'm off to watch the road for Tammy's arrival!
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