With the upcoming election, I have felt a need to share something that I have gone through since I was 17 due to the hostile environment the conservative government created within the UK immigration system (a very very long thread)
a bit of background to begin with, I was born in Zimbabwe, therefore I hold a Zimbabwean passport, I then moved to South Africa when I was 6 months old, where I lived until I was 12 years & 7 months old.
I moved to the United Kingdom with my mum, dad, brother & sister soon after & started my life within the education system. I had no idea or concept of what was needed to apply / reapply for visa. I was 12, all I was thinking about was making friends/why you all had weird accents
Fast forward - I was 17 (now just thinking about girls & passing my exams) we as a family all had to reapply for our visas. As I was approaching the big 18 (I’m the eldest), I had to apply by myself & not with my family but again, I left it up to my parents to fill out the forms.
Time passes, you almost forget that you’re awaiting an answer. I’m now at university in London, I have friends, a girlfriend, a flat & I’m going into my second year. I see no difference between myself & all my British friends. I’ve have now lived here for 7 years.
I receive a call from my mum saying we had received our letters at our home address. First letter, my mums = accepted.
The second letter, my brothers, accepted. My sister, accepted. Mine, rejected. 
I’m going to try & boil down what the rejection letter states but I admit to this day, it’s practically a piece of Shakespeare to me. They intentionally make it so difficult to understand & all I can think is thank god my English is good. What if it wasn’t?
So, firstly do I need to mention how terrifying this letter was to read? They note that I have to leave immediately. Where should I go? I don’t have anyone in Zimbabwae, all my family live here? Britain is all I’ve ever know, South Africa at a push.
They considered that I was in the middle of university, however felt I can continue my studies in Zim. They understood I have friends here, but felt that I could continue my friendships overseas. They knew I had a girlfriend, but said she could come with me.
Here’s a few quotes from my rejection letter (I don’t want to share the full lengths as you can appreciate)
“Little weight should be given to a private life established by a person at a time when the persons immigration status is precarious”
“Any private life in or ties to the UK have been developed with your full knowledge that you did not have permission to remain here permanently. As such, you should have prepared yourself for the possibility of return to your Zimbabwe”.
“YOUR Zimbabwe”???? What?! I haven’t been there since I was 6 MONTHS OLD. Anyway....
They didn’t once mentioned the fact that my family had been accepted. The system doesn’t make those links. Goldsmiths have now thrown me out of university, I’m told I’m not allowed to work while I await my appeal, I’m not even allowed to volunteer with a charity.
I’m now 20, I have no reason to get out of bed in the morning. I clean the flat twice a day, I try & keep up with my side projects but it’s hard to motivate yourself when you feel rejected from every part of your life.
I’ve been waiting for my court date for 7 months, the letter comes through & we start spreading the word that I need everyone to write statements to help my case. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel embarrassed & alienated from my life that I was living so effortlessly 2 years before.
We collect 50 statements & the court day arrives. We arrive & meet with my barrister (you’re not allowed to meet them / talk to them before the day). I look on the wall of names to see what judge I’ve been allocated. I can’t see my name anywhere.
I have been put on a waiting list, meaning that my case will only be heard by a judge if they get through all of their listed cases. We sit & wait for hours. I was not seen, please go home & await another letter for your next court date.
I receive a letter a month later, my new court date has been given for 5 months time. 5 more months of nothing. 5 more months of cleaning the flat, putting a smile on my face for when my girlfriend gets home. Filling my day with ‘I’ll do that tomorrow’ ‘it’ll be better tomorrow’
I can only now see how poorly I was, how sad I was & how disconnected I was from the society I was brought into at 12 years old. The society that had shaped me into the person I was. I was just so sad.
We worked even harder this time, we collected 130 statements for the judge, my folder for the court had to be separated into 3 bundles. 30 of us showed up to the tribunal centre that day, they had to get more chairs of the court room. I didn’t really feel it at the time, but..
I knew I was lucky. You look around & you see people by themselves, men with new born babies, people over the age of 60. It’s all very quiet. Oh did I mention the centre was next to Heathrow airport?! We weren’t sure whether we loved the irony or whether it made it hurt even more
We’re searched on the way in & this time, I’ve now been allocated a judge (lucky me!). I’m told that my uncle & girlfriend are the only ones that are allowed to speak to the judge to defend me (along with myself & my barrister)
Mr Alan was late, he is the representative from the home office. We had to give him time before we could start so he could familiarise himself with my case. We all sat in silence while he read through the most painful 2 years of my life, in around 30 seconds. We could then start.
Mr Alan didn’t look up once, he never looked at me. It was all a bit of a blur, but was over within 20 minutes. Mr Alan told the judge how I’d be fine on my own, in a country where I don’t speak the language. He didn’t even believe the words he was saying.
My barrister passed a letter to the judge, it stated that my mother couldn’t be in attendance as she had suffered a stroke the day before & was in hospital. I was the only child over the age of 18 in the family that could be responsible to my siblings.
The judge said it was not valid & wouldn’t be considered in the case. The court was dismissed. I’ll hear from them in the ‘near future’ with the verdict.
I wish I could describe the tribunal centre, it’s an environment that not a lot of people get to witness. A hidden world that if you weren’t reading this, probably wouldn’t think about. (It’s not just next to Heathrow, but also in a Tesco’s car park!)
2 months later, my mum rings me with my letter, it was again sent to my home address. I had been allowed my leave to remain. The judge didn’t seem to know why I had been put in this position - that would be flattering if it hadn’t put my life on hold for 2 years - thanks mate!!
I was now 22 years old, I had been in the country for 10 years & would have been eligible to apply for indefinite leave to remain (one step closer to citizenship) that year.
My acceptance letter read that I can stay in the country, but my ten years had been revoked & I must start this again. I need to reapply every 2.5 years for the next ten years, this could all happen again.
I have to reapply in February 2020 & I am fearful for my future in this country. Theresa May was home secretary from 2010-2016 & had introduced one of the most harmful hostile environments in UK immigration history.
We have so much at risk & I know that a lot of people will feel confused with the upcoming election. The media shouts stories at you, it’s everywhere & it’s easy to get lost in propaganda.
I’m here as a human being, a friend, a brother, a son, asking you to think about your decision. After nearly ten years of austerity, it’s no longer about saving the economy or getting brexit done, it’s about saving humanity.
I’m not here to tell you who to vote for, but I am here to tell you that I am a victim of a conservative government. A government which stripped me of my documentation, my dignity, my humanity.
I have never felt so alone in a country that I was brought up in. Before 2015, I thought I was British, but today in 2019, I’m not sure whether I’m welcome to feel that way.
