When workplace violence goes unaddressed, it doesn't simply fade away. It morphs, escalates, and manifests into catastrophic events that forever alter lives, families, and destroys organizations from the inside out.
I didn't name myself The Unsafe Social Worker because I was reckless. I did it because I did everything right and I still ended up unsafe.
My employer abandoned me, my union blamed me, and police ignored me. The system didn't just let me down. It turned its back on me when I needed it the most. And when I spoke up, I was told I was difficult, investigated, interrogated, and told to be quiet. But silence is what made it dangerous in the first place.
And that is why I created The Unsafe Social Worker. To tell the truth when others wouldn't, because sometimes the whistleblower is the only one speaking the truth. And to expose how the systems built to protect us are failing, especially when it involves women and helping professionals. Because the man I warned them about is in two separate trials involving violence against two different women.
I'm here to say out loud what many are afraid to admit, that you can follow every correct policy and still end up unsafe.
The professionals who worked alongside me know the truth about what happened, and the courage it takes to speak up.
This was a terrible traumatic event, even having the courage and energy to make this video and do interviews is pretty amazing!
I mentioned W5 as they are looking for new stories about injustice.
Also for the manager not to have filled out an OHS form at the time of the incident is inexcusable!!! What did HR say about that? Policy was not followed
Bravo. You are so brave. And your ability to articulate your story, your trauma, is courageous. It is eye opening. Intelligent. Maddening. Sad. Terrifyingly real.
Thank you for sharing. I look forward to the day that you are able to share it with the world.
I'm Jennifer Davidson, a former social work supervisor in child welfare. I was harassed by a client, then isolated and punished by my employer for speaking up. This is my story.
In 2023 I sat in front of a camera and told all of it, from the beginning. It runs about an hour and 39 minutes, in my own words.
I talk about harassment, threats, violence and PTSD. Please watch when you have the room for it.
The film plays here on this page. Nothing loads until you press play. Captions are auto-generated; turn them on with the CC button in the player.
As a social work supervisor in child welfare in Nova Scotia, I dedicated my career to protecting the most vulnerable. But when I became the target of harassment by a client, the response from my employer wasn't protection. it was isolation and punishment.
My experience exposed deep systemic failures: a workplace culture that silences victims, policies that prioritize optics over safety, and an institutional refusal to acknowledge the violence that helping professionals face every day.
Now, I'm using my voice to advocate for change. creating safe spaces for those who've been harmed, holding institutions accountable, and building a community of helping professionals who refuse to stay silent.
The film tells it in my words, face to face. Below is the same story in writing, for anyone who would rather read it or come back to it in pieces.
I'm sharing my traumatic experience as a Social Work Supervisor in Child Welfare in Nova Scotia. In this role, I faced threats and harassment due to my supervisory position and my legal obligation to report concerns related to a child's well-being. Ultimately, I endured catastrophic events as a result.
The work environment lacked essential safeguards and support for both my own well-being and that of my staff. During times of resource shortages, staffing issues, and extremely high caseloads, I also had to contend with rising violence, addiction, and poverty rates in the province.
I held one of the most challenging positions within the provincial government: long-term protection, which involved managing high-risk cases with verified risks involving children. I also supervised one of the busiest offices in the province, handling some of the highest caseloads.
Despite my trustworthiness in these roles, my concerns about my own safety and my family's safety were not taken seriously, leaving me feeling hopeless.
Despite following all proper procedures, advising my employer, providing a statement to the police, contacting them multiple times afterward, and adhering to Occupational Health and Safety protocols, I was ultimately left in an impossible position with no support from the individuals or organizations I reached out to for help.
When violence escalated from my workplace to my professional community, and eventually to my home community, I recognized the need to protect myself and my children. With 22 years of experience assessing risk, I understood the gravity of the threat posed by a privacy-protected individual with a history of multiple criminal convictions, along with his friend, even if no one else seemed to acknowledge it.
My role as a supervisor and my previous designation as an expert witness in Social Work in the Supreme Court of Nova Scotia were seemingly overlooked in favor of punishing my fear-based reaction to stand and fight. I was forced to face my concerns head-on on a day that should never have happened, had there been proper intervention from my employer or the police.
If my safety concerns had been properly documented and addressed after the initial incidents, or if safeguards had been put in place to prevent the situation, my life would likely be very different today.
After several interactions related to my child welfare report, and being targeted by the angry, retaliatory client and his male friends, I felt physically and mentally compelled to defend myself. I was overwhelmed by fear and exhaustion due to the harassment that went unaided by my employer and police.
My trauma-induced response to fight was triggered by a series of experiences in which I was cornered, blocked from leaving, struck in the face with a phone, taunted, cursed at, and insulted. Repeated verbal threats compounded my fear. threats that I would “pay,” that I would “regret it,” that I should “worry,” and “be afraid to sleep,” and ominous exchanges between the men about how they would “die for each other.”
After a third incident of being followed and threatened, and more than six attempts to seek help, I acted instinctively. Desperate to prevent what I believed was an anticipated attack, I took action to protect myself.
Multiple pictures and videos were taken of me without my permission or consent. in close proximity, inches from my face, while these threats were uttered to me.
As women, we are often told to scream loudly and fight back when in danger, to trust our instincts, and to never turn our backs on a threat. When I finally stood up to those threatening my safety, I was punished.
When I finally stood up to those threatening my safety, I was punished by my employer, local police, and the courts, who seemed unconcerned by my terrifying experiences, and said I was thin-skulled and overly sensitive. The support I got from my union was less than adequate. I was passed between five different union reps and five different lawyers, all with different perspectives on how to handle the situation. In a time when I needed safety, I got organizational chaos, compounding the devastation.
My experiences were ignored, downplayed, minimized, and even decriminalized. Normalized. Authorities refused to acknowledge the escalating pattern of violence and my reasonable efforts to obtain support and prevent the situation.
The impact on my mental and physical well-being, my career, my family, and my future were given little consideration. I realized that I was truly on my own. The focus was entirely on how I responded, while ignoring everything I had endured and my resilience in managing the situation.
Everyone has a limit to what they can tolerate.
No one should have to suffer without care, empathy, and real support. especially at the hands of their employers and governments. Harassment and intimidation should not be excused by inaction or allowed to go without consequence. Meanwhile, overworked and under-protected helping professionals, who have witnessed too much trauma, should not be punished for reacting with anger and fear in times of immense stress and with reasonable certainty of harm.
When all doors are closed, we open a window. This is that window.
Unaddressed violence leads to more violence. it's basic cause and effect. This individual is now accused of substantial violence against two different women involving firearms, as well as assaulting police. Once released, he allegedly choked one of those women. He then allegedly went on to commit several more impaired driving offences. These charges have not been tested in court. Does house arrest seem sufficient to you?
Decriminalizing someone's violence without addressing its root cause doesn't stop the behavior. it simply shifts the harm onto new victims. That's exactly what has happened here, and it was easily foreseeable.
This site aims to promote positive change and healing by sharing the often-unheard stories, resources, and opportunities. Safe spaces are created when employees feel safe to share their experiences. We cannot change our realities by hiding the truth.
This site seeks to influence policies and procedures that protect those who protect our children, as well as other professionals who frequently experience workplace violence or trauma.
A podcast that gets real about workplace violence; a warning sign for all helping professionals. Candid conversations with a nurse, a paramedic, a social worker, and a military police officer set the stage for my own story, told in my own words.
Read my reflections, explore my conversations, and add your voice to the movement for change.