Another blogpost, another annual report. I can take far less credit (ie precisely none) for producing this one, but it does share and celebrate some of what I do with my time and is well worth sharing here. It includes people and stories which mean a lot to me. It is a reminder that while there are loud voices who wants us to think otherwise, there is so much goodness and compassion and humanity in our communities.
Again, the report relates to a time period which is now well in the past: and this year, at Birch, the time it refers to feels even more distant, because the months since have been a time of turbulence and transition.
In some ways, my Birch role has always been one which has changed and developed throughout the time I have been doing it. I joined the staff team at Birch in January 2020 ... which turned out, little did we know it at the time, to be a rather interesting time to start a new job. The fact that my role soon looked very different to the one I'd been appointed for set the tone for all that was to follow. One of the things I most love and value about Birch is its ability and willingness to adapt and respond to shifting circumstances. I am proud that as an organisation, as a team of staff, volunteers and trustees, time and time again we have found the will and the capacity to pivot to meet changing needs, to fill the gaps, sometimes at a moments notice.
This year, though, for me at least, and my own place within the Birch team, that has felt more true than ever. In the spring, the closure of the hotel where I had offered support to women and families was announced. I had started visiting within weeks of its opening back in autumn 2022, prior to which there had been other families, in other hotels. And while in many ways everything: the context, and the support, and the people, had changed: I knew where to be.
With the closure of this hotel, there is currently no large scale initial / contingency accommodation for women or families in Birmingham. For the record ... the hotel (and the ones which preceded it) were never suitable accommodation, never an easy or the right place for any of those I met there to have to live, often for months and sometimes even years on end. I am absolutely in favour of the closure of asylum hotels which benefit nobody, except the share holders profiting from them and the far right making political capital.
Nonetheless I have to acknowledge there was, to an extent, a grieving process when it closed. There was the rupturing of relationships of trust which had taken time and energy to build. There was the letting go of a role which I had made my own and which, despite the times I came away feeling I'd done nothing useful, deep down I knew mattered. There was a saying goodbye to people, and to a part of my purpose.
At the same time it was an opportunity to revisit and rebalance. I was at a point where, one way or another 'more of the same' wasn't really a viable option. It was undoubtedly a blessing that I was forced to reflect, take stock and make some decisions in a way I might have struggled to do without a significant external prompt. Recognising it as a blessing doesn't mean it has been easy.
The intervening months have included some time to rest and recover and reflect and regroup. They have also involved a fair amount of doubt and uncertainty, asking difficult questions and facing hard choices.
I, we, have wrestled at length with the "what next?" and while there has been plenty of angst and a fair few tears, I have remained incredibly appreciative throughout for all the support and encouragement I have received, and the ways in which I have felt held by the wider Birch team over the past months. I know that is not something to take for granted.
And now we are here. I have changed my hours of work across my jobs to, hopefully, build in a bit more wiggle room and a bit more healthy balance. A brand new Birch project is in the offing in the very near future. Watch this space!
