“Every story shared through ‘The Girl Speaks’ is a glimpse into lived experience. Today, we share a powerful testimony from a parent who wanted their voice heard — not for sympathy, but for change. This is their truth.”
Social services, in theory, are designed to support families in crisis — to offer guidance, protection, and a path to stability. But in practice, for many parents like myself and countless others who have shared their stories with me, that’s not the reality we experience.
Over the years, I’ve written hundreds of personal accounts and shared them on social media, aiming to shed light on what truly happens behind the closed doors of family courtrooms and social service meetings. A pattern emerges, time and time again: Social services aren’t acting as the lifeline they promise to be. Instead, they often function more like a threat than a support system.
Social workers may say things like, “We don’t take children unless it’s the last resort,” but in my experience, removal is not the last resort — it’s the default. Struggling families aren’t helped; they’re judged. They’re not supported; they’re broken apart. The very system meant to protect children and assist parents seems to enter with a plan already formed, and that plan often ends in separation.
I speak from personal experience. At one point, I was told that my daughter wasn’t in a “stable environment.” The irony? Both her parents were working — not lavish jobs, but solid, honest work. There was always food in the fridge. The lights and heat were always on. We weren’t thriving, no. But we were managing, and more than that — we were content. Our daughter was loved and safe.
Then Social Services entered our lives, and everything started to unravel. We were told we couldn’t provide 24-hour care, so I did what any devoted parent would do — I quit my fairly high-paying job to be available full-time. I stepped up, thinking this was what they wanted. A few short weeks later, my partner lost her job — unfairly — and just like that, our household income dropped to nothing.
But did that count for anything? Did our sacrifices show commitment, love, or determination? No. Suddenly, the issue was no longer our availability, but our finances. The same system that told us we weren’t available enough now claimed we couldn’t afford to support our daughter. It felt like being punished for doing exactly what they asked — a cruel Catch-22. Pick a lane.
The family court system, unfortunately, only reinforces this harm. Hearsay often carries more weight than hard evidence. Opinions can outweigh facts. Parents are told, “This is what could happen,” but it quickly becomes clear that what could happen is already what will happen. The illusion of choice or chance fades fast.
Even more unsettling is the courtroom atmosphere itself. Solicitors, court workers, and social workers may not always know each other personally, but the way proceedings unfold suggests a shared mindset — one that leans more toward protecting the system than protecting families.
It’s hard not to feel that once you’re in this system, the outcome is pre-written. Parents are led down a path with the illusion of fairness and justice, but the reality is that many never stood a chance from the beginning.
This article isn’t about denying that some children need protection. It’s about asking: how many families could have been preserved — how many children could have been kept safe within their homes — if real help had been offered, rather than punitive measures?
If social services are truly about care, compassion, and support, then it’s time to re-evaluate how far they’ve drifted from that mission. Because when help feels like harm, the system is no longer serving the people — it’s destroying them.
Mark Piccolo
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