So the police turn up and they have detained someone they think is his ‘look out’. Usual story. Nobody saw him do anything but he ‘looked dodgy’ said someone. Yes he was black and wore a hoody. Police say they can tell a dodgy guy miles away, the majority of the time they are right. The majority of the time they are black, the majority of the time they are care leavers.

Myth: Policemen are bad. I always thought so. I never really liked them. As an activist I associated them with beating me up during peaceful demonstrations, a tool of the Italian right wing. This policeman is a normal, nice bloke. He’s got two kids. And he gets it. You can see he’s torn between being a policeman for me and understanding the sad reality of what is unfolding with these kids. The detective is a good bloke too. Like his colleague he really gets it: he is genuinely interested in making things better. He knows the sensational media stuff about crime and kids doesn’t tally with the reality. He knows it’s part of a long chain of neglect that authorities, lawmakers and other adults are responsible for.
He has no tools to make it better. So he’s frustrated at the system, the length of time courts take to make decisions, the amount of money wasted on bureaucracy that don’t help either young offenders or society. It’s a joke he says commenting on the routine of detaining these kids for a night, getting a lawyer to tell them to say ‘no comment’ (and maybe a translator for many do not speak English) and then they go back to their normal life as neglected foster kids.

I’m aware that the policeman in front of me and his colleagues risk their lives every day for little more than the minimum wage. That’s not right either. The guy they’ve detained is an illegal immigrant. That’s a mess right there. What are his options? The detective tells me about the vicious circle of neglect, poverty and violence. Nobody cares about these kids. They steal. They go to jail for three months. When they come out they have no alternative. They do have a few more tricks learned in jail from the serious criminals so the cycle continues. The policeman says the courts are too slow and have no idea how to deal with these kids. He despairs and thinks the sentences should be longer so at least they are off the street, even if they are in jail. He is trying to make the best of a mess. The fact that he contradicts himself by saying they have probably already spent too much time with social services and the system, is understandable. All these kids get told is what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ but as we all know, you can’t do it without love. And that is one thing they will never have.

Jail, says the detective, is like a training course, paid by the taxpayer. He also tells us about what he thinks is the best example of the failure of the system. A young guy he knows well. Care leaver, abused and neglected at home, a string of foster carers (sounds familiar?), now in a council hostel. He started with with basic street robbery at shopping malls around Christmas last year. Of course he was caught- he’s no professional. It took the courts 7 months to convict him. Meanwhile he’s moved up the crime ladder and is now into ‘knife crime’. Again he’s been caught a few times. But the detective thinks it’s now too late for him, he is in the system and there is no way out now.

He observes that when you watch the CCTV images of this kid stabbing other kids or doing nasty things (always to kids the same age, which surely must tell psychologists something) he looks like the most evil person in the wold. And then you sit down and interview him. He is a pleasant, even amusing young kid who will one day get stabbed, probably fatally, because he never got a chance. That, he said, is likely to be the fate of my intruder. A scared, unintentional criminal who has no alternative.

But as he says. People don’t want to see that. The government doesn’t and the media finds it easier to say we have a crime epidemic. No, what we have is a neglect epidemic. A society that punishes kids for being unwanted and unloved. What do you really expect them to do? Because although it was my house that was broken into, I know exactly why the kid did it. ‘The’ kid. He doesn’t have a name. But then he doesn’t have a home. Or parents. He’s nobody’s kid. But actually he is. He’s our responsibility. But the couple of hours the policeman, the detective, my husband and I have just spent talking about him is about as close to real care that’s he’s going to get.

So jail doesn’t work, neither does the care system, or leaving these kids to themselves. Where is it all go so wrong? I am sure everyone meant well when setting up the care system, the justice one, the Police one. But we have failed miserably to have any effect other than the multiplier one. We have failed and continue to fail ten of thousands of children who turn into young offenders by which time it’s too late. And in doing so we fail society as a whole.

The media has already called it a non-event. Adoption week. One week where we try to focus attention on the kids who don’t get a fair shot at life. The kids who languish in care. The kids who could have a family if the authorities and government could look beyond their own inhuman and inefficient processes.

Since last year we’ve heard Cameron and co talk the talk. They made some announcements and some that even made the headlines. And then, nothing.

But some people are interested. We have been utterly amazed by the generosity of agencies and individuals who have worked flat out over the past few weeks to pull together our campaign for Adopt a Better Way.Most of them have worked totally unpaid. They have done it not because they want to adopt or were rejected for adoption. These are people who simply care what happens to thousands of children in the UK every year. Children who are already damaged and then have to endure further damage by the system.

They work in media, marketing, design, writing, film and research. They are natural parents not adoptive ones. They are people like you who understand that if you fix the children you fix society.These people have freely helped us produce our new brand, our new launch, the posters you will see at over 20 sites in London. These people haven’t asked for acknowledgement. All they want is that you spend a few minutes thinking about the kids that society is failing. (A list of poster sites is at the at bottom of this post)

We’ve commissioned a report that shows just how broken the care system is. The findings indicate just how the care system impacts on a child’s ability to settle into an adopted family and shows us that with some commonsense thinking, we can improve their lives. And our society.

We need your help. They need your help. If you’d like to help a child get a real shot at life please visit our website and make a donation. Yes it’s for the children. But actually it’s for society as a whole. If we make just a few small changes to the system we can prevent kids ending up homeless, as prostitutes or addicted to drugs after being in care. And we can give more of them a permanent loving home. That is why we’re here. And we hope you are too.

Sadly this is pretty much how governments have conducted themselves in dealing with pressing issues in both the adoption process and the care system which is a part of it. Sure there has been much murmuring from Michael Gove and Tim Loughton about making ‘big changes’ to the process. The former is himself adopted so I guess I’d hoped for more action but instead, we just get more pronouncements.

So I sit here looking at the same disturbing facts over and over. Black and Asian children find it hard to be adopted into a permanent, stable home. The numbers of children going into care are also increasing  - on average around 1000 each month. Meanwhile there are prospective parents coming forward, many of them ready to jump through the countless hoops that will be put before them. And we have a society that embraces alternative concepts of creating a family, one where even surrogacy is becoming more accepted. So why is adoption so complicated, so bureaucratic, so uncaring and unaware of the people it affects the most? Why isn’t it a leaner, more transparent process that gives hope instead of discouraging those who want to make it work?

The reality is that in nearly four years the government hasn’t even attempted to alter the the forms on the Home Study questionnaire to ask if parents would consider a child of a different race.

You know, I receive calls each day from people desperate to open their hearts to a child who needs a loving home. These people tell me they have been turned down as adoptive parents due to race. I find that even more troubling in a country that spends a fortune on ensuring ‘diversity’ in its workplaces. The number of children adopted last year was the lowest in ten years and England lags behind any other so called ‘developed’ country when it comes to the way it handles the children left to languish in care. Their lives are destroyed before they have a chance to begin. And still the government sits there, intellectually and morally constipated uttering passive words. Non-announcements are not only depressing, they are insulting to the children and those of us who care about making life better for them.

However, it is a day tinged with sadness following the death of one of the greatest men, Steve Jobs, a perfect example of how adoption can work beautifully. Please read about it here.

Yet we are still agonising over whether adoption should or not be first choice for children languishing in care.

This morning I was on the Vanessa Feltz show on BBC radio discussing the merits of mixed race families with her. This afternoon on ITN London Tonight. I was yet again calling on David Cameron to step up to the challenge facing thousands of children in care today. During his Conservative Party conference speech this week, he said “this might not be the biggest issue facing this country but it is the biggest issue facing these children”.

I am asking the father in him to make this his biggest issue to solve. Now. For their sake.

You can help too by signing our e-petition which urges the government to take action.

Chapter 2, Does Your Cat Speak Spanish?
“Do I look OK?” Rick said as he came into the bedroom, wearing his cream suit and his best tie.
“Uh oh. Cream?”
“I don’t want to wear a dark one. It doesn’t seem friendly enough; too businesslike. They might think I don’t have time for children if I wear that.”
I’d never seen Rick this anxious. He was normally so calm and composed about absolutely everything.
“I think I want to marry you all over again. It means a lot that you’re going along with me on this.”
“Fra, I believe in adoption too. I am not going along with you just because you are stubborn, which you are! I can totally see the point, but I want to know more and see if it is for us. I’m our left brain, remember?”
I collapsed in giggles on the bed. Rick bounced over and gave me a huge hug.
“Careful, you’ll crease the suit.”
“Shut up, you.”
We kissed, then lay there just holding each other close for a while. I had opted for a more casual look than Rick. Smart jeans, a long blue cardigan, and a pair of boots instead of recycled shoes. It was freezing again. In the car, I asked him: “Where do you think you are in your heart, Rick?”
“I find it frustrating that they have to decide for us that we cannot adopt locally. It’s not like there are no children who need a family here in London.”
“I mean what about adoption? How do you feel about it now?”
“I think if we decide it’s worth a shot, we should start the adoption and try to have natural children at the same time.”
“And then let the Universe decide which one is right first.”
“I knew you’d say that! You and your Universe!”

There were times when Rick’s pragmatism and my spiritual outlook clashed, but on the whole our combination worked. We filed into a room with the other couples who were doing the training. There was tea, coffee and biscuits on offer. Everyone seemed very shy. This wasn’t surprising, since for most couples choosing adoption is a public admission that they can’t have children.
We were invited into a room and directed to a circle of chairs. I chose to sit next to a woman who appeared to be alone. Rick sat on the other side of me, munching a biscuit.
“This is what it must be like attending a twelve-step programme,” he whispered.
“Sshh! Someone might hear you!”
The two trainers arrived and introduced themselves. They were both women, and they exuded warm energy. One had an endless mane of hair and wore a long hippie skirt. With her big eyes and enormous glasses, she reminded me of a cartoon character from A Bug’s Life. The other woman wore a suit and smart flat shoes, and sported an elegant short bob.
“Hello everyone, and well done for arriving on time in such bad weather. It shows this means a lot to you. We are trainers for this course, and also we are both international adopters. I have two Bolivian children, and Susan has a Chinese girl as well as a natural one.”
“Oh, good,” I whispered to Rick. “They’ve actually done it.”
“At the end of today you will have understood more about the process, and we will file a report for your council to say whether or not we feel you are ready to start the Home Study.”
No pressure then. We were asked to introduce ourselves and say a little about why we were there. I realised suddenly that we would be putting ourselves on show in public for the first time. Amongst the couples talking about their fertility problems, multiple miscarriages, and failed attempts at in vitro fertilization, we would stick out. God, what were we doing here? Did we have a right to be in that room? I felt slightly ashamed when it was my turn to speak.
“For all intents and purposes we can conceive, but we feel strongly that adoption should play a big part for various reasons.”

It turned out the single woman next to me, who was a Spanish journalist, had also decided on adoption, even though she could have children. At the end of the introduction, one of the trainers gestured towards us and said:
“The three of you are called preferential adopters. This means that you have chosen to build your family via adoption and not because of fertility issues. The rest of you are traditional adopters.”
“What if we wanted to adopt and try and have natural children too?” asked the Spanish lady.
Thank God she asked that one.I was dying to know but didn’t want to appear too radical or anything.
The woman from A Bug’s Life answered.
“You can’t do that. If you happen to fall pregnant during the Home Study you will have to stop the adoption, have your baby, and wait until he or she is at least three years of age before you can start the process all over again. If you have a miscarriage, you will have to wait for two years to grieve and overcome the trauma.”
Two years to overcome a miscarriage! How did they work that out?
“How do you even know if we are trying, anyway?” I joked.
“Your life will never be the same, my dear, once you say yes to the adoption process. Believe me, it’ll feel like a crowd of people are watching you having sex.”
Laughter from around the room. “Seriously, guys, your entire life will be scrutinised every step of the way. Nothing will pass unnoticed.”

Later, when we were let out for lunch, we sat with the Spanish woman and three other couples in a nearby deli, conducting a post-mortem on the morning’s proceedings.
“So which country do you think you would like to adopt from?” asked the Spanish lady.
“We would like to adopt from Russia because my husband has blond hair and mine is dark, so we figured that whether the baby is from the eastern or western part of the country, it will look like one of us,” said one woman.
“We’re going for China, as we want a baby girl at any cost, and all babies for adoptions are girls,” said another woman.
“Anyway, as if I’m going to stop trying in the meantime!” said
Michelle. She and her husband Simon had already attempted I.V.F. a few times.
“What was that all about? What gives them the right to be all Stasi-like about sex?” I said.
“No disrespect to you guys,” said the single Spanish lady, looking around the table, “but it seems almost as if adoption is an industry for infertile people. Unlike those of us who choose, often in your cases it’s a second best, right?”
She may as well have thrown a hand grenade. It was clear that at least one couple were taking her comment personally. The table went quiet.
“Oh, look at the time,” said Rick. “We’d better get back.”
The rest of the day was spent in various exercises, scenarios, and conversations about the pitfalls and challenges of the adoption process. At the end of the day, one of the trainers looked around at us all and said: “It won’t be the same for all of you, and some will handle it better than others. But it’s neither an easy ride nor a short one. You have anything from two to four years ahead of you from this moment. But I am sure you will all be fine. Good luck.”
I felt like I do when my Chinese doctor sticks a million needles in my face, tummy, ears and neck, then calmly says, “You can sleep now till I am back.”
Really?