Beyond boundaries

My Journey through care experienced/Care leavers networks

There was a time in my life when I didn’t know people like me existed. People who had grown up in institutions, group homes, or under child protection systems. People who had left care but were still figuring out how to live, trust, and belong.

I used to think I was just an exception, trying to make sense of the world without a family, without backup, and without the usual roots others had. But the moment I entered my first care leaver group, I realised I was never alone, I was just never connected. That was the beginning of a powerful shift inside me. It didn’t happen overnight. The first meeting I attended felt unfamiliar. I had joined a local care leavers group in my region. Everyone had their own story some had faced street life, some had been in child care institutions for over a decade, some were from tribal or Dalit backgrounds, and many had faced multiple layers of discrimination.

I remember sitting quietly, not knowing what to say. But then someone shared how they struggled to get a college admission because they didn’t have parental documents. Another shared how people often said, “You must be used to suffering” whenever she said she was a care leaver and I sat there, shocked not because their experiences were foreign to me, but because they were so familiar. It was like hearing my own silence spoken by someone else.

From that point on, I became part of various Care Leavers associations regional, national, and global. These weren’t just platforms to raise issues; they were living, breathing families made of people who had lived through similar pain but chose to turn it into power. I met care leavers from different castes, cultures, religions, genders, and countries and despite all those differences, there was an unspoken understanding among us. We were connected not by pity, but by purpose.

At the International Care Leavers festival, I connected to a young man from Kenya who spoke about being forced out of care at 18 and having nowhere to go. I told him I understood and I meant it. In another session, a girl from Sri Lanka spoke about being labelled “uncivilised” because of her rural roots. I told her I was once told I could never speak fluent English because I came from a tribal area. We laughed. We cried. We nodded. We belonged.

One of the most powerful moments came during a care leavers’ cultural evening. We all wore traditional clothes. I wore mine with pride—an outfit from my tribe, which I had never worn at any public event before because I was always afraid of being judged. But that night, surrounded by people who knew what it meant to hide parts of ourselves just to fit in, I wore it like armour. We danced to each other’s songs. We shared food from our cultures.

 When we feel safe, we show our whole selves and in care leaver spaces, we feel safe.

These spaces also helped me see beyond gender. As a woman, I had faced discrimination not only because I was female, but because I was a care-experienced woman. People expected me to be weak, angry, or needy.

But in our networks, I met fierce, inspiring care leaver women who were leading organisations, advocating at the UN, and starting community kitchens.

I also met transgender care leavers who had faced unimaginable rejection but were still showing up every day, working for dignity. It reminded me that gender is not the only lens we need to look at life through intersectional eyes.

Being a care leaver is not just one identity it connects with caste, region, disability, language, and so much more. And in our networks, we embrace that complexity.

I remember celebrating my first ever birthday with care leavers. I was 19. Until then, birthdays were just another day. But that year, my friends in the group surprised me with a card, a small cake, and a song in three different languages.

I cried not because of the cake, but because someone remembered, someone cared.

We celebrate Diwali together, lighting diyas not just for tradition, but for hope. On Eid, we gather and break bread together. When a care leaver gets a job or completes a degree, we celebrate it like a family does. When someone is in crisis, we raise funds, send messages, or just sit with them in silence.

We have learned to be there for one another because for so long, nobody else was.

Every event, every meeting, every voice has taught me that we are not limited by our past. We are connected by our resilience.

I have seen care leavers take part in policy advocacy, digital literacy sessions, peer mentorship, and climate campaigns. I have seen them become journalists, social workers, artists, entrepreneurs, and above all change makers.

We were once called children in need of care and protection. Today, we are adults offering care and protection to others.

So what do we need from the world?

We don’t want sympathy. We want respect. We want meaningful partnerships where care leavers are not just invited to speak, but invited to lead. We want long-term support to build care leaver collectives that can survive and grow.

We want educational and economic opportunities that don’t end at 18. We want our experiences to be seen as expertise. We want systems to stop asking, “Who are your parents?” and start asking, “What support do you need?”

We also want people to ask provoking, useful questions

What would it look like if every university had a care leaver support desk?

What if every government policy had a care leaver representative in the planning process?

What if every NGO supportng care expereinced worked in perternship with care experienced people?

What if society stopped calling us ‘abandoned’ and started calling us ‘resilient’?

And to everyone reading this-policymakers, donors, educators, friends

I ask you to support care leaver networks not just once, but consistently. These networks have saved lives, changed directions, and created leaders. They are not charity projects. They are justice movements.

“I have walked barefoot through uncertainty. But today, I walk shoulder to shoulder with a global family.”

Together, we care for every care experienced who are breaking silence, crossing borders, and proving that connection is more powerful than limitation. And if you ever wonder what hope looks like, look into the eyes of a care leaver who just discovered they’re not alone.