From the Texas Tribune:
Katherin Youniacutt turned to alcohol at a young age to cope with the abuse she’d suffered as a child. By 2007, she was a full-blown alcoholic. Late one night, an off-duty police officer approached her car at a gas station and when she drove away, the officer said she injured him with her vehicle. She pleaded guilty to an assault conviction and served several years of probation.
While serving her sentence, Youaniacutt found faith again. With the help of her husband and a new church community, she entered treatment, and by 2011, she was sober. She felt called to help others struggling with addiction and, with donations from her fellow church members, started pursuing a master’s degree in social work.
Youniacutt, now a grandmother living in the suburbs of Lubbock, was concerned about her criminal history and wrote to the Texas State Board of Social Worker Examiners to verify her eligibility to obtain a license to practice while she was studying for her degree.
“I did have to apply in 2018 as part of my program at school, and I got a response back from the board saying that they would look at everything on an individual case-by-case basis,” she said.
However, after earning her degree and passing her licensing exam in 2022, she was denied a license without a review or inquiry.
“I had already completed a year with the Lubbock County Sheriff's Office rehabilitation program with the understanding that I would become a licensed social worker,” Youniacutt said. “Then the letter came saying that I didn’t qualify for a license based on that felony.”
Turns out the law changed in 2019. Prior to that, the state’s licensing authority could deny licenses when a criminal history made someone unsuitable to treat patients by reviewing their history and current circumstances.
However, only a few months after the board gave Youniacutt the green light to take the licensing test, the state passed a new law that banned certain applicants for life. Essentially, it classifies social workers and psychologists as part of the health care profession, requiring a licensing authority to automatically deny an applicant for certain felonies, such as those registered as a sex offender or who have committed a felony offense involving the use or threat of force.
The law passed quietly, as even a representative for the bill's author, Rep. Greg Bonnen, R-Friendswood, told the Houston Chronicle in 2023 that no one in their office remembers any details about the legislation. Bonnen’s office did not respond to a request for comment from The Texas Tribune.
Darrel Spinks, executive director of the Texas Behavioral Health Executive Council, which oversees counseling and social worker licenses, said they were never consulted on the implications of the law.
“Unfortunately, I have no more insight into the rationale for why HB 1899 was passed than other members of the public,” Spinks said, adding that five applicants were denied licenses this year, a relatively small amount that is consistent with prior years’ numbers.
Although it doesn’t name social workers specifically, a summary of the bill states that concerns had been raised regarding the prevalence of licensed health care professionals using their position of authority to commit crimes against vulnerable patients. This bill was meant to put a stop to this by making certain crimes, like sex offenders, ineligible for a health care professional license.
John Bielamowicz, the presiding member of the Texas psychologists’ licensing board and member of the Texas Behavioral Health Executive Council, said the law ties their hands.
“The Council and its member boards have consistently employed every available tool to increase access to licensure. Within the bounds of the law, we’ve broadened pathways into mental health fields, making it easier for qualified individuals to enter this essential profession,” he said.
Texas — and the country — face a two-fold problem: an exploding mental health and substance abuse crisis and a dire shortage of professional social workers to address those issues. More than a third of Texas’ counties lack access to a licensed clinical social worker.
Meanwhile, one in three Americans has a criminal record, according to studies. Yet, nationwide, there are tens of thousands of laws that make it harder for people with criminal histories to work.
This is where the Institute of Justice, a nonprofit, public-interest law firm whose mission is to end the abuse of government power, comes in. The nonprofit’s attorneys are working with Youniacutt and others to challenge the 2019 law.
“The Texas Constitution is on our side,” said James Knight, an attorney at the Institute for Justice, who plans to file a lawsuit against the state on Wednesday on behalf of Youniacutt and Fort Worth resident Tammy Thompson.
Knight said every person should be able to have a fresh start rehabilitating themselves and making an honest living. Still, this 2019 law prevents people like Youniacutt and Thompson from doing that.
“Rehabilitation is important, and if you pay your debt to society, you should be able to work,” he said. “This lawsuit is to end the government's ability to deny people the right to work.”
An unnecessary solution?
Thompson, fresh off a rough divorce in the early 2000s, turned to methamphetamine to deal with the stress of suddenly becoming the primary caregiver for her children. This led to her sole conviction, which came from a 2006 incident at her father’s apartment complex when a dispute between her and a stranger led to an assault charge she didn’t learn about until two years later during a traffic stop.
Thompson accepted a plea in exchange for parole, but her continued use of meth violated the terms of her parole and she spent two years in jail. She used her time in jail to build a fresh start and earned a GED before being released.
“I remember getting out, and I was trying to figure out what my parole was, what jobs I could do; I had no car, no money, no identification, and I remember thinking to myself, I wish I had somebody to help me reenter into society,” Thompson said. “I decided to check out Tarrant County Community College, and I told them my story. They asked if I had ever considered helping people as a social worker, and that is where it all began.”
She seized the opportunity and got a bachelor’s and master’s degree in social work. During the COVID-19 pandemic, she learned this was where her journey might end.
“I had taken the test with one of my friends, and she got hers back, and she had passed, and it was a beautiful and super exciting moment. But when she got hers back, and I didn’t, I started to panic,” Thompson said. “Then finally, I got the letter that said I was denied.”
Thompson appealed this decision, but she was denied twice and told that if her appeal failed a third time, she would forfeit her right to ever get her license.
“I didn’t want to affect something in the future, so I just walked away from it,” Thompson said.
Knight said cases like Thompson’s are why his organization is challenging what he considers a draconian licensing ban that violates "the rights of people to live honestly in an occupation of their choice."
“It imposes a permanent, lifetime restriction on licensure without considering individual circumstances or mitigating factors,” he said.
Texas needs social workers
Social workers are often the first point of contact for many people looking for mental health help. Found in hospitals, education centers, and mental health care facilities and more, social workers provide access to services to address a person’s life needs, such as finances, housing, community resources, and government benefits.
Texas has 26,000 social workers at different levels. Clinical social workers, master social workers and baccalaureate social workers all have different education and practice requirements to be licensed and all are barred to certain felons.
A licensed clinical social worker is considered the most advanced license and can practice counseling, while licensed master social workers can provide counseling under supervision. A licensed baccalaureate social worker only needs a bachelor’s degree but usually handles non-clinical services like case management and advocacy.
While 91 Texas counties lack licensed clinical social workers, shortages also exist in less specialized areas — 74 counties lack licensed master social workers and 65 counties lack licensed baccalaureate social workers.
Achieving a feat like becoming a licensed social worker requires many years of expensive education and clinical hours. Having a setback at the finish line can feel overwhelming, said Youniacutt, who had earned two and a half hours of clinical hours to meet licensing requirements.
“I was devastated,” Youniacutt said. “I had to accept that this might not be for me, which was hard because my education cost me a lot of money.”
Younaicutt decided to continue working with health care facilities, doing work that didn’t require a license. Still, she dreams of opening a social work clinic tailored to her community and using the expertise she has gained from her previous life experiences.
“I have had a lot of people in the health care profession who are supportive and say you were made to do this, and I was born to be a social worker,” Younaicutt said. “So I’m disappointed that it feels like I’ll never be allowed to do that.”
Thompson said it only makes sense for people who have been rehabilitated to help others who might be going through similar situations.
“It’s the most hypocritical thing I have ever come across in my life. How can you push as social workers that you are here because people matter, but then you do not let those same people succeed in this position,” Thompson said. “All the data shows that no matter the position of clinicians, therapists, or peer social workers, having therapy or treatment works better when it comes from someone who has walked the same lines in life as you.”
This article originally appeared in The Texas Tribune at https://www.texastribune.org/2024/11/13/texas-social-workers-ban-lawsuit/.
The Texas Tribune is a member-supported, nonpartisan newsroom informing and engaging Texans on state politics and policy. Learn more at texastribune.org.