Wemarchedtoaskfortheri humanrightssooftendenie
BY KENNY MURRAY PUBLIC AFFAIRS COORDINATOR FOR WHO CARES? SCOTLAND A GLOBAL community of people raised in care took to the streets of Scotland yesterday in a historic rally for “the right to be loved”.
Hundreds of people with experience of the Scottish care system organised the gathering, the first celebration of its kind in the world.
I was among them, and I could not have been prouder.
I am 27 years old, I grew up in care in Glasgow, and for most of my life I felt alone in that experience.
I was discriminated against, simply for being in care, shunned by my peers and treated with contempt.
Little did I know that all over Scotland and across the world, people growing up in care were as isolated and discriminated against as me.
Scotland is now leading the world for Care Experienced people, all because we finally feel proud enough to speak up.
When we speak up, we want the world to listen.
Yesterday we marched across Glasgow, to the Royal Concert Hall steps, to ask for the right to be loved, the most basic of human rights, too often not afforded to those in care.
And today we will hold our first Care Family Global Gathering, with speakers who have experienced care across Scotland and beyond.
In our solidarity, there is enormous strength.
Right now, the story told of Care Experienced people isn’t one of success.
It’s that one third of the prison population is Care Experienced, it’s that 45 per cent of us have mental health issues and that fewer than 10 per cent of us go to university.
When I was seven, my father kicked my mum, my four siblings and I out of the house. It was the latest incident in a longterm campaign of violence.
For a long time, I had only ever seen my mum as the victim of this violence.
I had no idea that just by witnessing this, living in this home in which my father’s violence and drug use ruled, that I too was a victim. For my mum, the trauma she suffered as a result of this abuse left her struggling to cope. Unfortunately, the task of raising five children singlehandedly became too much, and when I was 11, I was taken into care. I was separated from my two brothers and two sisters. They went somewhere else whilst I was taken to a children’s home. It was surrounded by high fences, with barbed wire at the top. I felt like a criminal.
There was a particular day when I looked out my window and saw people holding signs, protesting over the home’s existence and, in turn, my existence.
I have a photo of myself from around the time I went into care. You can tell, just looking at the gaunt-faced, darkeyed boy, that I wasn’t OK. Nobody asked me though. I think the answer would have been too complicated, too much like hard work to deal with.
Behind those dark eyes, though,