As nation’s 250th birthday approaches, Kansas social workers grapple with erosion of progress
Social workers must step up as their clients face a society-wide disruption to their lives and rights, according to our columnist. (Getty Images)
As National Social Work Month draws to a close, we find ourselves standing at a complicated intersection that demands more than reflection. It demands clarity.
In July, the United States will mark 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. This represents a quarter millennium of law, policy, progress and contradiction. A nation that expanded rights in ways unimaginable is now negotiating how much of that progress it will sustain.
For those of us in social work, this is not abstract. This is practice.
When policies shift, when protections narrow, and when access becomes conditional, our clients do not experience change as debate. They experience it as disruption, denial, delay and — too often — harm. In Kansas and Missouri, where I practice clinical social work, recent laws challenge the dignity, self-determination, and safety of individuals, as well as the licenses of professionals charged with providing for their physical and mental health needs.
The question before us is not simply: Where is the country going?
The question is: Who are we going to be when we get there?
The National Association of Social Workers’ Code of Ethics is not a seasonal document. It does not adjust to election cycles, administrative priorities or public opinion. It is a commitment. It calls us to uphold the dignity and worth of every person, to challenge social injustice and to remain accountable to communities we serve.
That means we do not become neutral when harm is structural. We do not confuse what is legal with what is just. And we do not quietly adapt to systems that require people shrink to survive them. Moments like this clarify the role of social work; they do not weaken it.
We cannot claim to practice from a person-in-environment perspective while ignoring environments actively shaping our clients’ lives. When a parent misses appointments, we must ask what systems made attendance unsustainable. When a client appears “non-compliant,” we must examine what policies have made participation unsafe or inaccessible. When communities disengage, we must ask what history, and what current realities, have earned their mistrust.
If we strip behavior from context, we risk misdiagnosing survival as dysfunction. That is not ethical. That is harm overshadowed by professional language. Our code is clear: Social workers challenge social injustice. Not when it is convenient. Not when it is professionally rewarded. Because it is required.
Advocacy, at this moment, looks like naming when policies produce harm; supporting clients in navigating systems that were not designed for them; using our voices, in courtrooms, classrooms, coalitions, and communities; and documenting what we see, even when it contradicts dominant narratives.
Silence is often framed as neutrality. It is not. It is alignment with whatever is already in place.
We cannot ethically engage clients while presenting systems as safe, equitable or predictable when they are not. Informed consent requires honesty about the limits of confidentiality in systems of surveillance; the realities of access, eligibility and denial; and the risks clients assume simply by engaging services. Our clients do not need reassurance. They need truth and the support to navigate it.
We have spent decades advancing cultural competence, and that work matters. But it is not sufficient. What we are witnessing, and what our clients are navigating, is not just cultural difference. It is structural inequity.
If we focus only on culture, we individualize what is systemic. If we stop at awareness, we leave harm unchallenged. This moment requires structural competence: the ability to see, name and respond to the policies, systems and power dynamics shaping lived experiences.
History has never distributed harm evenly. Neither does the present. The people most affected by policy shifts are those already navigating economic instability, racial inequity, immigration barriers, gender and identity-based discrimination, and systems of child welfare, healthcare and legal involvement.
For them, this is not political discourse. It is daily life. Our role is not to debate their reality; it is to respond to it.
Systems proudly champion that they are “trauma-informed.” But awareness alone does not interrupt harm. As I have said before: To be satisfied with being “trauma-informed” is to punish survivors of trauma for being resilient.
This moment calls for trauma-responsive practice. One that adjusts to reality, reduces harm and refuses to place the burden of adaptation solely on those already affected.
As this country approaches 250 years of independence, social work must decide what it will carry forward and what it will refuse.
As social workers, we are not here to help people quietly endure inequity. We are here to name it, challenge it and build something different alongside those we serve.
We must stay grounded in ethics, not politics. We must tell the truth about what we see. We must document the barriers, not just the behaviors. We must advocate beyond our role descriptions. We must refuse neutrality when neutrality causes harm. Most importantly, we must care for ourselves and each other in the process.
The strength of this profession has never come from its proximity to power. It has always come from its proximity to people.
If we do social work with integrity, if we stay accountable to the people, not just the profession, then 250 years into this country’s history, social work will do what it has always been called to do, not just respond to the world as it is. We will all insist on the world as it should be.
Tara D. Wallace is a licensed clinician and trauma therapist in Topeka. Through its opinion section, Kansas Reflector works to amplify the voices of people who are affected by public policies or excluded from public debate. Find information, including how to submit your own commentary, here.