Allison Hulmes, Senior Lecturer in Social Work, Swansea University/Romani & Traveller representative, International Federation of Social Workers.
June is Gypsy, Roma, and Traveller (GRT) History Month in the UK, a time for recognition, celebration, and reflection. For those of us involved in social work, justice, and advocacy, it is also a period when listening becomes an opportunity for deep understanding and transformative change. This year, I found myself holding space for profound pain, as GRT community members once again shared stories of state-inflicted loss, of children taken away, of families fractured by the family court system, and of cultural identity gradually eroded in the name of ‘safeguarding’. Alongside witnessing these powerful and distressing stories, we began piloting the ROMA Model for Restorative Supervision, a new paradigm in restorative supervision founded on accountability and repair. The juxtaposition was striking; on the one hand, an outpouring of generational and intergenerational grief resurfacing through testimony; on the other, a hopeful first step towards collective healing.
During a family justice conference last week, where I was invited as a panel member, we heard mothers retell the pain of waking up each day with an ache in their chest, wondering if their child, now in foster care, still remembers their language, still eats the foods of their culture, wears the clothes of their culture, still feels their love. I heard grandparents speak of being dismissed as kinship carers because they had been assessed as ‘a risk’ based solely on their ethnicity. I also heard positive experiences of ethical and relational social work practice where the family court allowed for reassessment. Despite this, the impact of reading bias, stereotypes, and descriptions of themselves they didn’t recognise in the first assessment meant they could not now unsee it and were left confused by how the same circumstances could be perceived so differently.
We cannot ignore the reality that the family court system in the UK has repeatedly failed Gypsy, Roma and Traveller families. From disproportionate care orders to culturally incompetent assessments, structural violence is well-documented. Every time a Gypsy, Roma or Traveller parent, grandparent, or young person is asked to retell their stories, old wounds open, and fresh ones appear.
Pain and trauma stem not only from what the state has done, but also from the frequency with which these stories must be retold. These are not new narratives; they have been shared in hearings, inquiries, academic research, and community spaces. Because no changes occur, community members are compelled to keep repeating them. Telling becomes both a survival strategy and a form of unpaid labor. The emotional burden is etched on the faces and in the hearts of those trapped in a trauma loop, constantly replaying the scenes. From a trauma-informed perspective, the repeated sharing of stories about child removal and systemic loss raises serious ethical concerns that do not align with the core ethics and value base of social work. Recounting traumatic experiences can re-trigger emotional distress and exacerbate psychological harm, especially when there are few meaningful changes in response. This retraumatization risks reducing storytelling to a symbolic performance rather than fostering genuine engagement. Ethical practice requires consent, safety, and reciprocity, ensuring that listening is accompanied by actions that have significance for the storyteller, not just for those who require the stories. All professionals involved with the family justice system must critically reflect on whether they are seeking stories for change or merely consuming pain.
As social workers and professionals working within safeguarding systems, we are not neutral observers. Even those who see themselves as allies, reformers, or critics of the system still work within it and are shaped by it. It is no longer enough to be ‘culturally competent’ or ‘trauma-informed; if we listen to these stories without transforming the ways we work, we are complicit in their repetition and at risk of moral injury. To repair the harm our profession has wittingly and unwittingly caused to Gypsy, Roma and Traveller communities, we must shift from a paradigm of protection-as-control to one of support-as-solidarity. This includes being honest about the racism embedded in our institutions, about our complicity, too.
Beginning, the pilot of the ROMA Model for Restorative Supervision during GRT history month felt like a moment of ethical alignment. Developed by Romani and Traveller social workers, community members, and academics, the ROMA model is an invitation to a different kind of supervision culture that sees institutional harm as something that must be acknowledged and repaired, not rationalised away. The types of questions that our ROMA model invites social workers to reflect on are ‘How have you internalised risk-aversion concerning Romani and Traveller families?’ or ‘What assumptions do you make about this family and their cultural practices’ or even, ‘What would accountability look like if we considered the state a perpetrator of harm?’.
The ROMA model does not promise to undo generations of harm. But it does offer a new starting point, one rooted in cultural humility, courageous reflection, and reflexivity. As we continue the pilot, I am reminded that restorative supervision is not a luxury; it is a moral and ethical imperative when systemic injustice experienced by Gypsy, Roma and Traveller communities is embedded in policy, legislation and practice.
We are grateful to be piloting the ROMA model with the staff in Leeds, who are willing to sit in uncomfortable spaces, to support one another, and to take this journey of transformation through the framework of the ROMA model for restorative supervision, one of the few meaningful responses that honours the depth of harm Gypsy, Roma and Traveller communities have experienced and shared with us.