The Part We Don't Talk About Enough: Why Some Families Are Afraid to Ask for Help
There is another side to this story that we cannot ignore.
We often tell families:
“If you're struggling, ask for help.”
But what if the family is afraid of the system they are being told to ask?
That fear did not come from nowhere.
British Columbia has a long and painful history of separating Indigenous children from their families and communities. The residential-school system was one part of that history. The child-welfare system became another.
And Indigenous children remain dramatically over-represented in Canada's child-welfare system.
This matters.
It means that when an Indigenous mother hears:
“Just tell the school you're struggling.”
she may not hear:
“Someone will bring you a food hamper.”
She may hear:
“Someone may start looking into my family.”
That fear can be passed from one generation to another.
And it isn't something we should dismiss by saying:
“Don't worry. They won't take your kids.”
We should be honest about what the system is, what it can do, what its responsibilities are, and what a family can expect when they ask for help.
Birth alerts showed exactly why trust matters
British Columbia officially ended the practice known as hospital or birth alerts in September 2019.
A birth alert involved notifying child-welfare authorities and hospital staff when an expectant parent was considered to be at risk of having their newborn apprehended.
The practice was particularly controversial because of its impact on Indigenous families.
Government records later reported that in 2018, 58% of parents subjected to birth alerts in B.C. were Indigenous, and infants were apprehended in 28% of birth-alert cases.
B.C. eventually ended the practice.
That history matters because it tells us something very simple:
Trust cannot be ordered into existence.
If a government institution has previously frightened families, separated families or treated some communities differently, telling those families to simply trust the system isn't enough.
Trust has to be earned.
But fear can also leave children without help
This is the terrible trap.
A parent may be frightened that asking for help will bring unwanted attention.
So they don't ask.
The children still need food.
The rent still has to be paid.
The apartment still costs too much.
The family still needs help.
And eventually the situation can become much worse.
That is why the answer cannot be:
“Just trust the system.”
But it also cannot be:
“Never tell anyone.”
The answer has to be informed help, transparency and choice wherever the law allows it.
Families deserve to know what happens before they disclose everything
If you are a parent who is afraid to ask for help, you can start by asking questions.
You can say:
“We need help with food and housing. Before I tell you personal details, can you explain what information you are required to report and what happens when someone asks for assistance?”
Ask:
- Who will receive the information?
- What information is confidential?
- What are you legally required to report?
- What happens after a concern is reported?
- What housing and food resources are available without involving child welfare?
- Can we speak with a family-support worker or advocate?
- Can I have someone with me when I speak to a worker?
You don't have to pretend you aren't afraid.
You can say that you are afraid.
And children should not be put in the middle
There is another danger here.
A frightened parent may tell a child:
“Don't tell anyone. They'll take you away.”
That fear is understandable.
But it can put an enormous burden on the child.
The child may become terrified that telling a teacher about hunger or homelessness will destroy their family.
They may stop asking for food.
They may hide problems.
They may lie about where they live.
They may become responsible for protecting their parent from the system.
That isn't fair to the child either.
A child should never have to choose between getting help and protecting their family.
We need a different kind of safety net
Imagine a family could walk into a school and say:
“We cannot afford our rent and we're running out of food.”
The first response should not be suspicion.
It should be:
“Let's figure out what support your family needs.”
A family should be able to access food.
Housing assistance.
Income supports.
Counselling.
Childcare.
Transportation.
Help with applications.
Legal information.
And, where appropriate, culturally safe Indigenous family services.
The system should be designed to keep families safely together whenever possible, not wait until a crisis becomes so severe that separation becomes the response.
B.C. itself now describes its changing child-welfare system as moving toward keeping Indigenous children and families together and connected to their communities and cultures.
But policies on paper are not enough.
Families have to believe they can safely walk through the door.
The question we should really be asking
Instead of asking:
“Why don't these families ask for help?”
we should ask:
“What happened that made them afraid to ask?”
And then:
“What would we have to change so that asking for help feels safer than suffering in silence?”
Because a child shouldn't have to go hungry because their mother is afraid.
A mother shouldn't have to choose between asking for help and fearing the loss of her child.
And Indigenous families should not have to forget generations of experience before governments will listen to their concerns.
A safety net only works when people trust that it will catch them.
And if people are afraid to reach for it, then the responsibility isn't simply on them.
The system has to ask why.
#ChildWelfare #IndigenousChildren #BritishColumbia #BirthAlerts #ResidentialSchools
#FamilySeparation #HousingInsecurity #PovertyAndChildWelfare #SocialServices #KeepFamiliesTogether
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