The Hidden Face of Hardship: A Message from the New Chair
How do we define ‘hardship’?
Before joining this esteemed Trust, I realise my understanding of the word ‘hardship’ was purely academic. If asked then, I would have offered a textbook definition: a state of suffering, difficulty, or adversity. It was clinical, detached, and—as I’ve learned—entirely inadequate.
Since I was appointed as a Trustee in November 2024, and then became the Chair in June 2025, and started processing applications and making decisions following detailed discussions and consultations with my fellow Trustees, that definition has shifted from the theoretical to the visceral. Hardship isn’t just a “state”; it is a physical condition. It is the cold felt in a home where the meter has run dry, the physical exhaustion of a body failing under the weight of sickness, and the hollow, heavy breath that comes with a sudden catastrophe. It is the silent strain of a social worker who spends their day advocating for the rights of others while privately navigating the deprivation of their own basic needs. In these applications, hardship isn’t a word on a page—it is a lived, breathing struggle for survival. The Social Workers’ Benevolent Trust (SWBT) exists to provide financial relief during these exact moments. Yet, even with our clear protocols, I found myself challenged by my first three applications. They presented a level of complexity that no dictionary could capture:
· The Sudden Catastrophe: A children’s social worker who, after fleeing domestic abuse with her children, arrived in a new city with nothing. Despite being in full-time employment, the immediate cost of a rental deposit and basic furniture left her in a state of physical deprivation she never imagined she would face.
· The Burden of Sickness: An experienced practitioner forced to stop working following a sudden, serious illness. Without the safety net of sick pay, his income vanished. He faced the gut-wrenching stress of choosing between heating his home or paying for the prescriptions required for his survival.
· The Retired Professional: A long-serving social worker who, in his retirement, was upended by the traumatic loss of his spouse. On a fixed pension, the unexpected cost of funeral expenses pushed him into a spiral of debt. He found himself in that “hidden” hardship—unable to focus on his grief because he was terrified of the next final demand letter.
The learning for me was that hardship is deeply individual and personal. This truth is reinforced every two months when we meet as Trustees to go through each and every application and make a decision. Having seen the dedication required to do this fairly, I can only describe the Trustees who I work with currently and those who served before me as unsung heroes—as I now know how committed they are as individuals and the ‘giving back’ they do for the good of their profession: taking up a non-paying role of being a Trustee!
However, what troubles me is not just the hardship I read about—it’s the hardship that remains unwritten and unheard. Many social workers are hesitant to step forward; in their struggle, they become equal to the very service users they spent their lives supporting, yet they feel they must hide their own vulnerability. Others simply don’t know we exist.
We have two urgent priorities:
1. Raise Awareness: We must ensure every social worker knows this avenue exists. If you are struggling, please apply.
2. Seek Support: We are the UK’s only charity dedicated solely to helping social workers. To keep this lifeline open, we need donations and legacies.
Hardship may be personal, but supporting our colleagues must be a collective effort – together we can make a difference!
Priscilla Kurewa – Chair