Empathy needs to exist, refugees aren’t a problem to be solved or a phenomenon.

You’re only able to truly reflect on the asylum process after you get your status, before that it’s all about action and thinking about what you’re going to do next. It’s very hard to process what you’re going through until after you’re secure. I reflected on my asylum journey after I got my status and realised how shocking it was and nothing prepares you for it. No one tells you about the process or what happens next.

I was born in Iraq, but my family moved to Libya when I was only two years old because of political challenges. We lived in Libya for around 11 years and all my earliest childhood memories are from there. We lived about an hour outside Tripoli, there wasn’t much diversity in the area and the community was very traditional, but they were welcoming to non-Libyans.

When the conflict started, it was very confusing. We didn’t think people would turn against Gaddafi. There were issues in Benghazi, but none where we lived and we thought things would eventually calm down. We saw it happening in Tunisia and we couldn’t believe it was happening here as well. Iraqis were largely seen as supporters of Gaddafi because he had given job contracts to foreigners, like my dad, and anyone who came through these contracts was at risk first. Riots and protests were spreading across the country, and they were coming to our area too. My uncle lived in London, and he had the idea to send us a visa invitation. Everyone was sent a visa, but my dad was still in a contract and his workplace didn’t approve the visa.

When the plane took off, it was mostly empty… Someone didn’t want people to leave and seek asylum elsewhere.

During our last few nights in Libya, we could hear gun shots and my dad was scared for us. Even though he didn’t have a visa, he insisted we should go. I remember being terrified on the way to the airport because we were stopped at multiple unofficial check points. Things escalated so quickly from there, we heard the airports were going to be closed soon and a lot of flights were being cancelled. We ended up sleeping at the airport for 4 nights and we were only able to board a flight because my dad had taught the daughter of one of the airport officials. When the plane took off, it was mostly empty even though the officials kept saying the planes were full and there was no capacity for any more passengers. Someone didn’t want people to leave and seek asylum elsewhere.

At the time, I was 14 and I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought we were only going to be leaving for a short time to meet our friends who lived in the UK. I remember my mom crying because we were leaving my dad, but my brother and I didn’t because we thought we were going to be coming back. When we arrived in the UK, we were constantly in touch with my dad. He told us he went back to our area and a neighbour had taken him to a farm to protect him. There was a lot of discrimination against Iraqis, we didn’t know it existed until the conflict started, I don’t know if had been pent up until then.

Weeks later my dad managed to go back to our area. The house we had was rented and he had to end the contract early. He managed to sell our car but had to give everything else away. All Iraqi families had to flee, either back to Iraq or to Tunisia. My dad left Libya and moved into a camp UNHCR had set up in Tunisia. He told my mom she should try to seek protection in the UK. My mom didn’t know anything about the asylum process, and it was the beginning of a long, long journey for my entire family.

Even though the UN granted my dad protection, the Home Office said they didn’t think the UN protection criteria met the UK criteria despite being a signatory and integrating the UN Refugee Convention into UK law.

For our family, 2 things were happening at the same time. We were claiming asylum in the UK and my dad was seeking UN protection. He wasn’t prioritised for resettlement because he didn’t have his family with him. Even though the UN granted my dad protection, the Home Office said they didn’t think the UN protection criteria met the UK criteria despite being a signatory and integrating the UN Refugee Convention into UK law. We tried telling them the UN had accepted my dad because there were serious risks if he went back, but they didn’t listen.

The asylum process was terrifying, traumatic, and humiliating. There was no dignity in the process.

The very act of claiming asylum is humiliating, there are interrogations, and people are condescending. The Home Office didn’t believe we deserved asylum, they didn’t believe the evidence we provided, and they told us to go back to Iraq. They said we’re Muslims and we speak Arabic so we shouldn’t have any problems going back to Iraq, but it wasn’t that simple.

When my dad lived in Iraq, the sector he worked in was always under observation and he started to think about the future. His brothers had already left years before and his family were from an area called Tikrit which was known to be loyal to Saddam. When Saddam fell, it was a critical moment because mixed Sunni/Shia families were under threat and many different extremist groups had spread across Iraq. Some of my mother’s family were Shia and my dad is completely Sunni, so we heard the horror stories.

In Iraq, my dad had no choice, he had to support the Baath party and people could tell which party you supported based on your surname. If we went back, anyone could find the affiliation and my dad could be taken and tortured. Despite telling the Home Office all of this, they still didn’t think our claims were legal and eventually we needed legal aid because our claims were constantly rejected.

All extremist groups in Iraq can determine your political affiliations based on your surname and my dad had one of the names they were targeting. There was a news article about it, but the Home Office still didn’t believe it.

The Home Office brought up the fact we had visited Iraq years ago and tried claiming Iraq was safe for us to return to. Meanwhile, my mom’s family in Iraq was telling us not to come back because of my dad. ISIS targeted Tikrit first and a lot of my dad’s cousins and their sons were killed by ISIS when he was in Tunisia. All extremist groups in Iraq can determine your political affiliations based on your surname and my dad had one of the names they were targeting. There was a news article about it, but the Home Office still didn’t believe it.

The Home Office categorises areas as safe, so Erbil for example would be declared safe, and they use this as a basis for refusal. They don’t know or think about livelihood, living standards, border risks, militias or even the fact terrorist groups can move throughout the country. Even if Erbil is safe, that doesn’t mean the extremists targeting you can’t travel there to find you. It’s a constant battle of trying to convince the Home Office that you’re at risk and that you can’t return. It’s difficult because there is no war, but there are still specific risks. The absence of war doesn’t mean a country is safe.

To make matters worse, the reports the Home Office was using to make decisions were outdated and different to the situation on the ground in Iraq. Solicitors recommended we pay for a country report to submit updated information about Iraq with our claim. They told us the report would cost £3500, we didn’t have the money and when my mom asked if this would work the solicitors replied they couldn’t guarantee it. We ended up not requesting the report. We weren’t lucky with solicitors; we had a lot of bad experiences. There is also a huge backlog of cases, long waiting times and a lack of rights and entitlements. You don’t feel the system is designed to support or protect you.

When you’re going through the asylum process you don’t experience it in a vacuum, you’re still living other parts of your life. While I was navigating the asylum system, I had to go to school. Most educational institutions didn’t recognise the asylum seeker ID and it was horrible when I was enrolling. I presented the school with this ID that clearly says I am prohibited from working and because I am a hijabi I had to show my ears for the picture on the ID, so overall it was a terrible picture to present, and people were taken aback. Even the language they use if hostile.

Once, my piano teacher asked me why I wear the hijab…She had such a condescending approach and she told me about a student they had the previous year who had taken off her hijab, my teacher said she couldn’t understand why she chose to hide her beauty.

I went to a Catholic School which wasn’t very diverse, no one knew much about Islam or the hijab. I remember how frustrating my time there was. Back then, my English skills weren’t great and all I wanted was to be cool and relate to the problems of the other girls but there were no connections. They used to ask a lot of questions about my hijab due to their lack of knowledge but most of the time it just came across as rude. Once, my piano teacher asked me why I wear the hijab and I wanted to reply but I didn’t know the answer in English. I don’t think I convinced her. She had such a condescending approach and she told me about a student they had the previous year who had taken off her hijab, my teacher said she couldn’t understand why she chose to hide her beauty.

As a teenager, you’re learning to take pride in your identity and religion, but it was hard because all I wanted to do was fit in. I wanted an easy and comfortable experience. I had to deal with looks, attitudes, and judgements. I kept everything in and under normal situations I would tell my mom, but she was going through so much I didn’t want to make her sad or worried. She wasn’t in a place to know what to do. I didn’t tell my teachers either because I figured people had a right to know and tried to rationalise it by telling myself that I am different, and they have a right to ask.

My escape from all of this and the difficulties of the asylum process was studying. I immersed myself in what I was watching and reading. I didn’t get good grades straight away. My family tried to stay emotionally supportive, even though my parents were struggling they recognised my brother, and I were struggling too.

I’ve realised we shouldn’t expect low attainment from asylum seeking children. I have a lot of friends from Syria and Turkey and people actively told them they wouldn’t get anywhere. Students internalise these comments and are conditioned to think they are less than native students. People underestimate how quickly kids can learn. My teachers were supportive, and they helped me improve, they never let me feel like I was less than anyone else. I was reserved and shy at school, so my teachers tried to help me become more confident. Doing well at school felt good because to me it felt like something was going right when other things weren’t.

There are so many barriers they use when someone tries to claim asylum, all the jargon makes everything harder to understand.

I was the first one to learn English because I had studied it in Libya. I remember one of the last 17 decisions we received was negative and I was alone at home at the time, so I went to go pick up the package from the Post Office. I read 16 pages outlining why we were refused asylum and decided to translate every single one. When my mom read the translation, she cried for days, but it was easier for her to understand. Here was this document the Home Office used to outline what they’ve decided to do not only with your own life but those of your husband and children as well. There are so many barriers they use when someone tries to claim asylum, all the jargon makes everything harder to understand.

At one point, we had exhausted all our appeals and when we submitted a fresh claim, we had to wait 3 years for a decision only to be told we had been refused based on the fresh claim. By this time, I had already turned 18 and they told me I had to apply for asylum in my own right to stay legally. I had to go to Croydon by myself to make the claim and had to do more interviews. 90% of claims are refused the first time, but when I went to court by myself, I hoped it would be a clean slate.

I told the judge everything and explained that I was just about to start my first year of university. The judge sympathised with me; my mom never had that. The judge respected me for getting into university. Back then not many asylum seekers could get in because the Equal Access Scholarship programmes weren’t as common. I had received a scholarship to study Biomedical Science at York University. The scholarship was the first positive decision we’d received in so long. Finally, even though the judge said I didn’t meet the criteria to be classified a refugee, I was granted humanitarian protection.

My case was judged independently and because of this they recognised as a lone woman there would be safety concerns if I went back. If I had been rejected completely, I would have faced deportation. I had a 5-year travelling restriction, but it was a positive outcome, and I honestly wasn’t expecting it. A few months later, my mom and brother had exhausted all avenues, but they were granted discretionary leave because my brother was young, and he’d been in the UK for more than 7 years.

I was able to join university, but I had a lot of anxiety when I was enrolling. The staff didn’t know what my ID was, and they had to constantly go back and forth with the scholarship provider to confirm all the details. University started off lonely, because I was experiencing all of this alone until I attended a conference for Article 26 which was for forced migration students. During that session, everyone was saying the same thing, we all wanted the university to know what our IDs meant. It was good to know I wasn’t alone. Now, I can tell other universities to make sure they have processes in place to recognise these students.

When I graduated university in June 2019, my dad was able to attend my graduation ceremony. After everything we’d been through, we were finally together. It was a huge moment for us as a family.

While we had been navigating the asylum system, my dad stayed in the Tunisian camp until it closed, and he was moved to Syria. As a refugee, he didn’t have the right to work, and he was just waiting. He was mentally exhausted, and he had nothing to do. When the camp closed, he had to use up his savings and rent a place to live. He lived like that for 6 years before UNHCR said France had decided to accept my dad as a refugee. He was resettled in France before I got my status and was granted his own papers and travel documents. When I graduated university in June 2019, my dad was able to attend my graduation ceremony. After everything we’d been through, we were finally together. It was a huge moment for us as a family.

The entire asylum process is shocking, and it takes a toll on you mentally. My family was separated, and my mom used to say it would have been easier if we had been together. We weren’t told anything about the system, appeals or next steps. The legal aid providers were so overworked they couldn’t explain things to every client. We just needed to find a way to stay because deportations were more common back then. Theresa May introduced the hostile environment and you really had to fight not to get to that stage. I feel that if I’d had a sense of community and mental wellbeing support, it would have supported me immensely. There’s a lot you end up supressing, a lot of people going through the asylum system never speak about the experiences they have. This kind of support is essential, not helpful.

A refugee is someone who has lived two lives. They are strong and brave. Nothing a refugee goes through is easy, and it is an immense act of bravery to seek asylum. The asylum process is incredibly difficult, and you’re left to navigate it alone. When you’re an asylum seeker you’re treated differently based on how you entered the country, this needs to change.

The feeling of empathy needs to exist, refugees aren’t a problem to be solved or a phenomenon.

Refugees are normal humans, like everyone else, we have memories, connections, experiences, ideas, and plans. Some people look at refugees as a problem to be solved or addressed, very rarely are they looked at as human beings who had to flee for their safety. The feeling of empathy needs to exist, refugees aren’t a problem to be solved or a phenomenon. There is a huge problem of generalising refugees and asylum seekers, and authorities try to actively promote these generalisations to try to deal with refugees as an issue.

In the future, I would like to see more equality between how different groups of refugees are treated. Right now, there is a disparity between refugees who arrive through resettlement programmes vs. asylum seekers. The Nationality and Borders Bill will only make this difference more pronounced because it decides a person’s fate based solely on how they chose to enter the country. Instead of treating refugees as human beings and basing cases on merit there will be a system deciding what you deserve depending on how you enter the UK.