Incorporating lived experience into social work practice: A personal and organisational journey

Abstract

Social workers with lived experience of incarceration can be more relatable and empathetic, improving their ability to connect and advocate for those they support. However, they face significant barriers to entering the profession, including difficulty obtaining accreditation to work with children, placement requirements, professional association eligibility, and exclusion from employment through criminal history checks and accumulated marginalisation. For women, this marginalisation commonly includes experiences of victimisation, mental health issues, intellectual and cognitive impairments, child protection involvement, substance dependency, and poverty. Their exclusion from social work reduces the profession's ability to best support marginalised people. This article explores these barriers and incorporates the lead author's personal journey from imprisoned student to practising social worker supporting incarcerated women, exploring the personal and broader costs of excluding a criminalised person from entering a profession that espouses social justice and inclusivity. This discussion is positioned in the context of the Transform Lives Program, an innovative, co-created model of service delivery for incarcerated mothers and their children which incorporates mothers’ voices by creating a skilled clinical team, inclusive of staff with lived experience. We challenge the sector to dismantle these barriers and foster inclusive practices that value those with lived experience.

Introduction

The concept of lived experience is increasingly recognised as a vital component of social work practice, particularly in the context of client-centred care (Parsell et al., 2024). Lived experience is ‘the knowledge we bring because we have firsthand involvement or exposure to particular events, occurrences or conditions that we have tried to make sense and construct meaning of’ (O’Leary and Tsui, 2022: 1075). For decades, social work has embraced the value of individuals with firsthand experiences of mental illness, substance use, or homelessness, who offer a deeper understanding of the challenges faced by clients (O’Leary and Tsui, 2022; Ridley et al., 2017). The peer support movement has been instrumental in incorporating lived experience into practice, where individuals with shared experiences work alongside professionals (Buck, 2021; Mead, 2014; Mead et al., 2001; Mendoza et al., 2016), offering more meaningful connections, empathy, and effective support because of their shared experience (Duvnjak et al., 2022; Jackson and Hyslop, 2022). Research on the role of the wounded healer shows how people who have lived experience can help achieve positive outcomes for clients and for themselves (Duvnjak et al., 2022; Heidemann et al., 2016; Runell, 2018).

Within the broad concept of lived experience, lived experience of incarceration refers to the personal, subjective experiences of individuals who have been imprisoned, encompassing the emotional, psychological, physical, and social impacts of imprisonment (Travis and Waul, 2003). It extends to the experiences of reintegration post-release, which can involve stigma, social exclusion, and the ongoing repercussions of a criminal record (LeBel, 2012; Pager, 2003). Formerly incarcerated individuals also often face broader social and economic challenges (Baldry et al., 2015), and are disproportionately affected by victimisation and violence (Grella et al., 2013; Wolff and Shi, 2012; Wolff et al., 2009), as well as mental health and addiction issues throughout their lives (AIHW, 2023; Travis et al., 2014). These intersecting issues uniquely position individuals with a history of incarceration to be effective and compassionate social workers.

While the value of lived experience peer and social workers within fields such as mental illness, addiction, and disability is well established (Mead et al. 2001; Mendoza et al., 2016; Ridley et al., 2017), the inclusion of social workers with lived experience of incarceration is less common (Vliek, 2018). In Australia, acceptance of social workers with lived experience of incarceration has been contentious, with the profession struggling to balance the perceived risks associated with criminalised backgrounds and the profession's core values of inclusivity, social justice and human dignity (Duvnjak et al., 2022; Sisters Inside, 2023; Young et al., 2019). Until recently this exclusion was contributed to by the Australian Association of Social Workers (AASW), which until 2023 prohibited membership by any social worker or student who had been incarcerated for more than 12 months. This posed a significant barrier to the profession's ability to embody the principles of inclusivity, empathy and social justice (AASW, 2020).

Moreover, persistent systemic exclusionary practices within the profession reinforce the marginalisation of already vulnerable populations (Cunneen and Tauri, 2019). The lead author of this article reflects on her experience of this continuing marginalisation:

I understand the impact of labels. Labels like mother, stepmother, wife, daughter, friend, social worker, colleague are acceptable, palatable. But I also carry the weight and stigma of the labels of a formerly incarcerated person – prisoner, offender, felon. If we dare challenge these labels, we are firmly put in our place: ‘do the crime, do the time’. But the truth is even when you have done the ‘time’ you are perpetually punished for the ‘crime’. Since my release from prison, I have developed an intimate understanding of the impact of incarceration, the impact on a person, on their family, the impacts that continue to ripple after release when people are trying to rebuild their life, and the intergenerational impact of incarceration. Even with intensive support my path from prison to becoming a practising social worker supporting criminalised families as part of the Transform Lives Program has been extremely challenging.

Like most incarcerated people I have a history of significant trauma. I worked through this with professional supports, which led to my own desire to use my lived experience to support others. I chose to become a social worker because of the principles of inclusivity, diversity, and social justice that are central to social work practice. And you would think I made the perfect choice, that social work would be a safe place for someone like me. As far back as the 1950's renowned psychologist Carl Jung (1951) spoke of ‘wounded healers’ as people who have learnt from their own experiences and can empathise with the suffering of clients and be partners in treatment. As a formerly incarcerated person I am well aware of the barriers to inclusion, as they impact so many aspects of life, including employment, housing, insurance, travel, study, and banking. I was devastated to discover firsthand the cost of that exclusion within the social work profession.

The next section of this article examines the barriers to entering the social work profession faced by individuals with lived experience of incarceration, particularly in Australia. We then explore the costs of this exclusion across multiple levels. Throughout this article, we incorporate the lead author's personal experience navigating the journey from incarceration to becoming a social worker to illustrate the issues we discuss. In Australia there are few examples of individuals overcoming barriers as she has done, and we suggest there is much to learn from her experience. We conclude with a call for the removal of remaining systemic barriers to entry to social work and other professions.

Barriers to inclusion in social work

Formerly incarcerated individuals face significant barriers when attempting to enter the social work profession, often rooted in structural and systemic challenges (Carlin and Frick, 2013; Halkovic and Greene, 2015; Young et al., 2019). These barriers, discussed further below, include: accessing education both in prison and after release; restrictions on eligibility for professional associations; criminal history and other employment related checks; and other discriminatory employment practices. These institutional and societal barriers are compounded by the broader marginalisation faced by formerly incarcerated individuals, reinforcing the exclusion from both education and professional practice. The lead author reflects:

I decided to become a social worker because I was drawn to the fight for social justice and human rights. It was crushing to discover that those values did not extend to me, or those who had been in prison. I was unprepared for the barriers I would face. I honestly believed social work would be a space where my vast lived experience would be valued, understood and the transformative change I had experienced would be celebrated. I quickly discovered that to the profession I aspired to I was undesirable, irredeemable and powerless.

Accessing education

The International Federation of Social Workers (2018) highlights the importance of recruiting to the profession students who reflect their communities. Social workers provide interventions to people facing marginalisation, vulnerability and who have experienced trauma within their lives. But an initial systemic barrier to the profession arises in entry to and progress through university study, with a degree required for social workers in Australia. While in principle, human rights laws entitle people in prison to the same education rights as those in the community, in practice, limited resources and the prison's focus on security can limit this access. The shift to digital and online-only learning platforms exacerbates this issue, leaving incarcerated students isolated from accessing research, direct communication with lecturers and online social forums (Farley et al., 2019). The lead author reflects on completing her education whilst in prison:

I completed part of my studies whilst incarcerated. It took many months to seek approval through the University and the Correctional Centre. Studying inside was near impossible, I had no access to the internet and was reliant on the education officer to download all the information I required. I regularly missed due dates because I was unable to access the officer to submit my assessments. I was not allowed to study full-time, so I balanced study with full-time community service work. I was the first woman, to my knowledge, to access an educational leave of absence and I transferred to a low security prison to complete my first university placement.

Additionally, individuals with criminal histories are increasingly excluded from pursuing social work education in Australia due to risk management practices such as criminal history and other checks (King, 2013; Naylor, 2005). More than two-thirds of Australian universities require a Working With Children (WWC) check for entry to social work degrees (Young et al., 2019). These checks are intended to safeguard children from workers and volunteers with adverse histories of relevant offences (Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission, 2024; Australian Institute of Family Studies, 2021). But such checks are often required regardless of whether students intend working with children, and are typically rejected based on criminal history alone, regardless of offence type. These checks mean that individuals with criminal histories are often unable to access field placements, a crucial component of social work education (Currer, 2009; Young et al., 2019). The lead author reflects on this hurdle:

After release, my ability to graduate was being hindered as my university required me to have WWC clearance to complete my final placement. I secured a placement working exclusively with adults and argued that the requirement was unjustified as I would not be providing direct support to children. This barrier was only navigated through self-advocacy and an eventual meeting with a lawyer from WWC, the university and myself, with the lawyer advising there is no requirement for a WWC unless the person is working with children.

Professional association membership

Professional association membership represents another potential barrier to social work practice. While legal registrations to practice are not required in most Australian states, the AASW is the peak body that sets professional standards, and membership is required for many jobs. In 2008, the AASW prohibited membership for anyone convicted of an offence punishable by imprisonment for greater than 12 months, to help ensure members are of good character (AASW, 2023). Advocates called for the removal of the clause, arguing it reinforced systemic biases by further marginalising individuals and perpetuated stigma and discrimination rather than inclusion (Sisters Inside, 2023). The AASW membership removed the clause in 2023 and instead introduced a declarations process to assess suitability for membership (AASW, 2024). The lead author reflects on her experiences of gaining AASW membership:

When I enrolled at university, I applied for membership of the AASW. Whilst I expected barriers as a criminalised person, I believed the Association would provide advocacy and support through these barriers. You can imagine my shock when I discovered that not only would my application for membership not be considered, but I was also excluded from even applying. For years social workers, students, and advocates, including myself, argued for the AASW to change the constitution.

After the membership voted overwhelmingly to remove the clause, I followed the declaration process, and my application was considered by a hearing panel of social workers. Seven years after first applying I was approved to become a member. After years of being excluded, not consulted, and discriminated against by the Association I had mixed feelings when I received the decision. Did I even want to be part of the AASW anymore? I ultimately decided to join with the hope that I can create pathways and lessen the impact for the social workers and students with lived prison experience coming into the profession, and continue to make a positive impact into a profession that I love and believe in.

Employment related checks

Even after graduation from university, social workers who have experienced imprisonment face ongoing suitability checks. This includes the WWC checks described above in relation to education, which are also automatically required for certain jobs, even those not supporting or working with children (Stormont, 2022; Young et al., 2019). In Queensland, checks are often declined based on historical convictions that have little relevance to current suitability (Justice Reform Initiative, 2024). Queensland WWC stakeholders have raised concerns with how the check extends beyond safety issues to broader considerations, such as whether the applicant serves as a positive role model (LawRight, 2024; QFCC, 2023). Being denied a WWC clearance leads to significant personal and financial consequences, disproportionately impacts groups over-represented in prisons (Tilbury, 2014), and restricts the profession from drawing ‘on the lived-experience of (…) people who have transformed their lives’ (Youth Justice Select Committee, 2024). The lead author reflects on the impact of these suitability checks:

I applied for a WWC which was denied and was issued a ‘negative notice’ two years later, making it an offence for me to work or volunteer with children. My convictions did not involve children, in fact the grounds for the denial fell under a ‘discretionary’ clause and the reasons included ‘not being a good example to children’ and ‘not being a positive role model’. Character judgements that were not based on risk and have no bearing on a person's ability to work with children. I was forced to appeal the decision to the tribunal.

I was suspended and ultimately fired by my employer and advised I could not work there with a negative notice, though I did not work with children. I was also initially prohibited from completing my final university placement which delayed my graduation. I was also unable to volunteer at my daughter's school or extracurricular activities.

The appeal process for me was more traumatising than court for my criminal matters. I was cross examined by a lawyer, questioned in detail about my incarceration, trauma and mental health history, which was then used to justify my perceived risk to children.

I was ultimately granted a clearance on appeal, but the process had a significant financial and emotional cost to myself and my family. As a mother and a childhood sexual abuse survivor to be continually told I am a risk to children because they did not see me as a good role model, was incredibly damaging. I hope that my daughter has role models who have hit rock bottom and crawled their way out, who have experienced or may have even caused harm and navigated and challenged the system to take accountability, get help and use their experiences to help others do the same. I think those people are the best role models.

Other discriminatory work requirements also create significant barriers to employment for social workers with a criminal history (Carlin and Frick, 2013). Many human service and government organisations impose blanket policies that disqualify individuals based on past convictions, regardless of rehabilitation, time elapsed, or the relevance of the offense to the role (Young et al., 2019). Additionally, funding bodies for service providers often mandate strict compliance with criminal history and WWC screening as a condition for financial support, pressuring employers to adopt exclusionary hiring practices to maintain funding. Employers consistently demonstrate reluctance to hire individuals with a criminal record, as shown in a study on employment bias which examined matched pairs of applicants for entry-level positions, where the only difference was the presence of a criminal record and race. The study found that applicants with a criminal record were significantly less likely to be offered employment, with this effect being even more pronounced for Black applicants (Pager, 2003). The lead author reflects on how this bias affected her career:

I also consulted with the WWC lawyer regarding my termination for being denied a clearance and with their advice approached my former employer and was reinstated. Even with supportive employers my options for advancement were limited as I was unable to apply for certain positions due to funding requirements of a clearance. I was able to secure a social work role when I was granted the WWC but was very aware of the limited employment options should funding to the agency be cut.

I was hesitant to apply for a position as a Program Coach with the Transform Lives Program. I knew that the program was special because it was created with mothers in prison, mothers who are the real experts and knowledge holders. I have experienced the silencing that occurs when women are incarcerated (Kilroy and Lean, 2023), the silencing that continues upon release, and I was drawn to the way the program seeks to allow women to speak and be heard at all levels. The hesitancy was related to the fatigue I felt viewing the immediate barriers I could see in the Position Description – the need for a criminal history check and the ability to access Correctional Centres. Ultimately my motivation to apply for the role came from one line in the Transforming Corrections to Transform Lives (TCTL) summary findings “Some mothers even expressed a preference for a caseworker with lived experience of incarceration.” ( Transforming Corrections to Transform Lives, 2021 ).

Costs of exclusion

Having examined the systemic barriers to entry to social work for those with lived experience, this section of the article addresses the costs of the resultant exclusion. We examine costs to the individual involved, the profession, and to the recipient of support.

The individual

Formerly incarcerated individuals experience disproportionately high rates of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder compared to the general population, with many struggling to access mental health care post-release (Fazel et al., 2016; Ogloff et al., 2012). The stigmatisation process, driven by the belief that a criminal history inherently marks individuals as dangerous or untrustworthy, deepens social exclusion and hampers the potential for successful rehabilitation and reintegration into society (LeBel, 2012; Pager, 2003). Stigma, and a fear of rejection and judgement when their criminal record is disclosed, can lead to social isolation, unstable employment, and financial insecurity, all of which contribute to heightened psychological distress (Aresti et al., 2010; Fazel et al., 2016). Structural barriers, such as discriminatory recruitment practices, housing restrictions and limited access to social services, further exacerbate these issues, leading to chronic stress and an increased risk of suicidal ideation and self-harm (Spittal et al., 2014).

Moreover, systemic exclusion in education and employment further perpetuates inequality (Carlin and Frick, 2013; Halkovic and Greene, 2015; Jackson, 2020; Madoc-Jones et al., 2007; Young et al., 2019) leading to higher rates of poverty, mental health challenges, and recidivism for marginalised people. Such exclusionary practices are not only unjust but counterproductive, as they hinder the reintegration process and contribute to a cycle of disadvantage (Binswanger et al., 2009; Halkovic and Greene, 2015). For many formerly incarcerated individuals, social work offers a pathway to redemption and a renewed sense of purpose, allowing them to reframe their past experiences as sources of strength rather than as personal deficits. However, when denied access to the profession, they may experience internalised stigma, leading to self-doubt and questioning their capacity to contribute meaningfully to society. This can result in feelings of exclusion and diminished self-worth, which can significantly impact their professional identity and mental health (Opsal, 2012; Sisters Inside, 2023).

Individuals with a criminal record often face persistent scepticism regarding their credibility, and heightened scrutiny from colleagues and supervisors that can result in a state of hypervigilance (Jackson and Hyslop, 2022; Pager, 2003). Criminal records serve as a lasting barrier to employment opportunities, irrespective of its nature or recency, and can have lifelong consequences, restricting an individual's ability to fully reintegrate into society, ‘a criminal conviction-no matter how trivial or how long ago it occurred-scars one for life’ (Petersilia, 2003: 19). Hooks (2003) comments:

Dominator culture has tried to keep us all afraid, to make us choose safety instead of risk, sameness instead of diversity. Moving through that fear, finding out what connects us, revelling in our differences; this is the process that brings us closer, that gives us a world of shared values, of meaningful community.

The social work profession

Lived experience is increasingly recognised as an invaluable asset in social work practice and the exclusion of individuals with incarceration histories from the profession represents a significant loss. Social workers with lived experience – particularly those who have navigated systems of trauma, incarceration, or marginalisation – bring unique insights, empathy, and advocacy to their work (Mead, 2014). Incorporating lived experience into practice fosters deeper connections with clients and enriches support strategies (Mead et al., 2001). This deep understanding allows social workers to build stronger, more relatable connections with their clients, promoting trust and effective communication. Furthermore, lived experience fosters personal growth, which translates into more effective problem-solving, advocacy, and support strategies tailored to the needs of clients facing similar challenges (Doyle et al., 2021). Batty and Fletcher (2012) highlight the value of peer support in criminal justice settings, emphasising its effectiveness in promoting engagement, knowledge-sharing, and positive behavioural change among incarcerated individuals. By incorporating lived experience into practice, social workers are better equipped to offer insightful strategies, advocate more effectively and empower clients in their journeys toward recovery and stability.

Exclusion from the profession disproportionately affects individuals from marginalised communities, who face mass incarceration due to systemic racism and poverty. This is particularly so for First Nations people (by which we mean Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, the First Peoples of Australia) who are significantly over-represented in criminal justice systems (ABS, 2023a, 2023b; Cunneen and Tauri, 2019). Exclusion of those with lived experience of incarceration from the profession therefore reduces the diversity and representativeness of the profession as noted by Jackson and Hyslop (2022: 95): ‘The people who are more able to get social work qualifications are going to be white, privileged, middle class’.

This issue of exclusion is particularly significant given the social work profession's core commitment to social justice and ‘acting to reduce barriers and to expand choice and potential for all persons, with special regard for those who are disadvantaged, vulnerable, oppressed or have exceptional needs’ (AASW, 2020). Excluding individuals with criminal records not only reduces diversity and undermines the profession's commitment to social inclusivity but also perpetuates existing inequalities and further marginalises those already impacted by systemic oppression (Justice Reform Initiative, 2020; King, 2013). For the social work profession to achieve its aim of reflecting the demographics of the people it supports (Vliek, 2018), it must recruit a diverse workforce with different experiences, including those with criminal convictions.

The people we support

The exclusion of people with lived experience also impacts service users – clients, participants and families. Helpers with criminal convictions often exhibit inherent caring traits and a strong capacity for advocacy, while the utilisation of lived experiences can enhance sensitivity and effectiveness when supporting individuals in crisis (Scott and Zeiger, 2000). Social workers who have navigated personal adversities are uniquely positioned to understand and assist those they support, embodying the ‘wounded healer’ archetype, which highlights how personal trauma can enhance therapeutic abilities through profound empathy (Jackson and Hyslop, 2022; Zerubavel and Wright, 2012). The ‘wounded healer’ concept suggests that a social worker's disclosure of personal struggles, including incarceration, can facilitate a deeper therapeutic connection and empower clients in their own healing process (Miller and Baldwin, 2013). By acknowledging their own experiences of hardship, social workers can inspire and support clients to access their inner resilience and recognise the connection between ‘woundedness’ and recovery. Observing this duality in a healer can make the prospect of reaching goals and moving forward feel more attainable, fostering a sense of hope and possibility (Kirmayer, 2003). Additionally, such disclosures may shift power dynamics in therapy, creating a more authentic and egalitarian relationship between therapist and client. When therapists demonstrate openness to discussing difficult experiences, they signal a willingness to engage in meaningful dialogue, providing clients with a safe and supportive environment to share their own struggles (Audet and Everall, 2010).

An evaluation of peer workers in a prison re-entry program (THHSC, 2023) highlighted the significance of lived experience in establishing trust, credibility, and effectively addressing client needs. Participants emphasised that lived experience fosters stronger rapport with clients, as it allows for a deeper understanding of their challenges. One participant noted that peers without similar lived experiences may struggle to connect, stating ‘You have peers that don’t have the experience the client has… they’re like, you just read a book and that's how you learned that – you don’t even know what I’m talking about’. The findings indicated that lived experience was regarded as a valuable and effective asset in client support, as ‘[lived experience] makes someone an amazing person because they have lived it, overcame it, and now they’re giving back with it’ (THHSC, 2023).

People working with lived experience can also serve as role models for the people they support (Buck, 2021; Jackson and Hyslop, 2022) by providing inspiration to their clients to reimagine their identities, helping them envision a positive future, and develop a belief in the possibility of change (Aresti et al., 2010). The rationale of safeguarding vulnerable clients is frequently cited as the primary justification for imposing additional barriers that exclude individuals with lived experience and criminal convictions from entering the social work profession (Duvnjak et al., 2022; Jackson, 2020; Young et al., 2019). However, this exclusion raises critical concerns about whether such policies inadvertently disadvantage the very populations they aim to serve and protect.

Overcoming the barriers

In the previous sections of this article, we have canvassed the barriers to entry to social work for those with lived experience of incarceration, and the effect this has at three different levels. In this section we describe an example of how these barriers were overcome by the lead author in gaining employment as a social worker with a university-based pilot intervention for incarcerated mothers and their children. We begin the section with a brief description of the program, before addressing the overcoming of barriers.

The Transform Lives Program (TLP)

In Australia, incarceration rates have grown faster for women than men, particularly for First Nations women (ABS, 2023a). About one third of imprisoned women report having at least one dependent child at the time of entering prison (AIHW, 2023), with there being evidence of intergenerational impacts on those children from maternal incarceration (Dallaire and Wilson, 2010; Poehlmann, 2005). In response, the TCTL Centre co-created, with mothers in prison and service providers, a new model of care to support incarcerated mothers and their children (Dennison et al., 2021a, 2021b, 2021c, 2022). Mothers are rarely asked what support they require, and the lived experience of mothers is critical in identifying challenges experienced, the barriers they face and the need for holistic support (Williams, 2024). During co-creation workshops incarcerated women stressed the importance of both life experience and lived experience in those who support them, with women needing to feel the person supporting them could be empathetic and understanding of their own experiences.

Mothers’ voices guided the design and implementation of the subsequently developed program, including employing qualified staff who also had lived and life experience. The TLP design rests on the provision of ongoing therapeutic and other supports by ‘coaches’ to mothers in prison and for up to 3 years after their release (Dennison et al., forthcoming). Coaches attend to mothers in prison at least weekly, and regularly after their release. Access to correctional facilities is therefore a vital part of the coach role, with that access controlled by the correctional agency. As part of the approval process, it requires disclosures and criminal history checks, with a criminal history commonly a barrier to approval.

Recruitment and approvals

During recruitment for TLP, the lead author was identified as having the necessary clinical skills and core values for the role. She self-disclosed her lived experience of imprisonment. As the lead author possessed the desired skillset for the role, with the additional strength of having lived experience, the TCTL Director then discussed with the agency the approval process and timeline, and the candidate's approval request and history was submitted. The TLP Manager and TCTL Centre Director submitted a letter outlining the support and supervision the candidate would receive as an employee in the program.

While approvals typically take time in a busy agency, after several weeks it was decided that an anticipated waiting period was unfair to the candidate. Given the TLP goal is to support and empower incarcerated mothers and their families, offering the candidate a position notwithstanding the approval outcome was an important first step. Throughout, the applicants’ confidentiality was respected, and approval was granted after two months.

Ongoing employment considerations

An unexpected benefit of employing someone with lived experience as well as her specific skillset was how her intimate knowledge of the criminal justice system benefited the development of the program, policies and procedures and ways of navigating the prison system. But employees with lived experience of incarceration face ongoing challenges and require empathetic managerial support. The impact of returning to a prison, particularly a centre where one has been incarcerated, can raise additional trauma to that already experienced in highly demanding environments. The voice of the staff member needs to be prominent and some strategies we utilised included discussions with correctional centre management to ensure confidentiality for the coach, having support for her while she completed inductions at centres, being available for support post-visits to the centre and regular discussions to ensure staff wellbeing and safety. Additionally, self-care strategies were emphasised. Self-care is the practice of balancing an individual's physical, emotional, and mental wellbeing both professionally and personally to be healthy and energised and to cope with daily stressors (Collins, 2005). In our experience, managers need to be flexible using gentle conversations and a safe space to have open dialogue about feelings, behaviours, reactions and strategies. This includes empowering the person to manage their own disclosures and developing strategies to ensure safety of the staff member. The lead author reflects on an instance where she utilised self-care strategies to cope with a difficult situation and protect her wellbeing:

When I started direct support with criminalised women, I returned to one of the prisons I was incarcerated in to support a woman being released. It was my first time returning and the closer I got the more anxious I became, I was sweating, my heart was racing.

We know as social workers that we need to reset and for our own wellbeing and those of the people we work with we can’t take that into a session so on the way I stopped at a little hall up the road from the prison which has a beautiful creek running behind it. This creek runs through the low-security prison upstream and when I was incarcerated, I would walk a loop of the prison multiple times a day and stare at that water and feel peace for a moment in time. Staring at that water was the closest I felt to freedom, when my freedom had been stripped away.

When I was in prison, once a week as part of a community service program I would leave with an officer and clean that hall. Sometimes he would let me watch the creek for a while before we returned to the prison. I was always desperate to dip my toes in the water but never allowed. So, before that visit, I took my shoes off and put my feet in the cool flowing water and considered how I felt free, but also not free. I am not free from the trauma of prison, I am not free while women upstream can’t feel fresh water running between their own toes.

Dr Lilla Watson, a Gangulu woman and Social Worker, once said ‘If you have come to help me you are wasting your time. If you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together’ ( Watson, 2004 ). So, I took a breath, put my shoes on and drove up the road to pick a woman up from prison. She was anxious, sweating, and her heart was racing. We stopped at the little creek and dipped ours toes in the water together and she told me stories of butterflies and water flowing, and of her people being freshwater people.

The day of prison release is busy, lots of things you have to do but we stood and watched the water flow. She turned to me and said, ‘I needed this’ and cried, and I told her I did too. We talked, and we laughed, and we put our shoes back on and tackled the world together for one day. This is why lived experience matters. This is why you should value it. The work comes at a cost, and we pay it over and over again for those we left behind, and those we now walk alongside.

Discussion and call to action

In this article we have set out the benefits brought by social workers with lived experience of incarceration, the barriers to inclusion they face, and the costs of exclusion at personal, professional and outcome levels. By using the personal history of the lead author, we have illustrated those issues, but also how ultimately, they can be overcome. This successful story shows what can and should be done more broadly.

The continued exclusion of individuals with lived experience of incarceration from the social work profession has profound impacts and contradicts core values of social justice, inclusion and advocacy. To create meaningful pathways into social work, there must be an examination and challenging of policies that perpetuate systemic biases and lead to the stigmatisation and exclusion of people with criminal records. Social workers have a professional and ethical obligation to advocate for equitable opportunities and dismantle barriers to inclusion. The path to equitable access requires deliberate action to establish clear, supportive pathways for students and professionals with lived prison experience. This includes revising accreditation and placement policies to ensure that risk management does not come at the cost of social justice. As McPhee (2021) argues, successfully navigating higher education and professional entry as a person with lived experience of incarceration demands more than just an open door; it requires proactive measures that provide both practical and emotional support. This includes interrogating workplace requirements, such as employment checks to ensure they are not exclusionary tools. The social work profession must resist the misuse of these regulatory measures and instead advocate for their fair and context-sensitive application. These proactive measures by the social work profession must also continue throughout the employment of a person with lived experience of incarceration, particularly in the form of empathetic managerial support, to manage and reduce the risk of retraumatisation.

As a system, we must do better. Professionalism must not come at the expense of social justice and human rights. Elevating and integrating lived experience strengthens the field, bringing a diversity of valuable perspectives to the profession while fostering a more representative, inclusive and equitable practice. To achieve this, we must actively challenge exclusionary practices, advocate for systemic reform and create tangible opportunities for those who have historically been marginalised. By doing so, we uphold the true principles of social work and are listening to the voices of the diverse communities we work alongside.