Object #1: Phone

Kelly was detained under Immigration Powers twice before she was recognised as a victim of modern slavery by the UK Home Office.

A phone, sent by her sister, gave her some contact with the outside world.

As soon as you get into detention they give you a phone, but because it’s issued by [detention staff], I didn’t necessarily trust it. They always monitor communications.

I was called in by one of the managers to check the contents of my email. Having my own phone, with my own SIM card, was a saving grace because I could speak freely with my family.

In the UK, people living with insecure immigration status are at risk of being detained in prison-like settings while their case is decided. In 2021, new evidence burdens were placed on victims in detention, making release less likely for victims.

During her time in immigration detention, it wasn’t clear to Kelly how to access legal advice. She believes that better access could have helped her be identified faster, and that all survivors of exploitation have a right to expert legal counsel.

You basically have to put your name down and see if any of the lawyers come in for support. That was it. There was no clear cut, ‘If you’ve been trafficked, this is what you do’.

[The Home Office] don’t make it obvious, because they don’t necessarily want people to stay.

Kelly began gathering her own resources to support her case.

I started doing a lot of legal things myself. And also doing legal processes for different people in detention at the same time.

For Kelly, detention was a reckoning.

I was basically put in a position whereby I had to find out what the system was about. I had to find out how the system is run. That kind of pushed me to start fighting.

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Object #2: Umbrella

When Kelly entered detention, her umbrella was one of the items confiscated while she was held in high security settings.

For me, the umbrella was a symbol of a lot of things happening at the same time.

I was detained around the same time that my dad passed away, and instead of having time to grieve, I was all alone in detention with nobody.

Detention staff have a legal duty to recognise indicators of trafficking and make referrals where necessary. In Kelly’s case, a referral was never made. Her experience is not unique. Between 2019 and 2021, at least 938 potential victims were deemed suitable for detention, spent time in prison-like settings, and were only identified after being released back into the community.

When I was released from detention, I got given my umbrella
back. It was a symbol of — when it rains, it pours.

It took five years for Kelly to be confirmed as a victim of trafficking by the National Referral Mechanism (NRM). Kelly explains that survivors are expected to repeat information “over and over”.

And as someone surviving such an experience, after a while, you tend to give up. Because you don’t want to keep repeating yourself… especially to people that are supposed to listen and care.

Kelly believes the system simultaneously disregards evidence and demands it at a faster rate than trauma will allow.

For many people, they are coming from countries where authorities are not trusted. You don’t trust the police. You don’t trust organisations…The police expect you to just trust them.

And if you don’t talk you’re still penalised for it. I have to trust you to open up to you, and that trust is earned over time.

Once in the NRM, Kelly was not automatically granted safe housing
and was unaware the option was open to her. It was her friend, studying to be a lawyer, who stepped in.

It took my friend calling on my behalf in order for them to actually get serious and offer me accommodation when I needed it.

Between April 2021-2022, 887 potential victims were deemed ineligible for safe housing, and a further 2,649 were eligible but could not be contacted by safe house staff. In some cases, survivors had fallen off the radar but, in other cases, front-line professionals had not shared survivors’ contact details when referring them to charities.

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Object #3: Laboratory coat

Ten years ago, Kelly was offered to study science at top UK university,
but could not attend because of her immigration status.

She now manages a social media community that shares study and work opportunities for people without access to public funds. It was through this community that Kelly learned she was eligible to study at her first-choice university, again, through a full scholarship.

They were like ‘You know you don’t have to have an immigration
status to go to school?’ And I was like, ‘Really?’ So I applied and was
quite shocked that I got in!

For Kelly, now a student again, her lab coat symbolises both what she has achieved and the work that she loves.

So this right here is freedom. It is a symbol of hope. And a symbol of ‘it’s never too late’.

Things always work out.

It always works out in the end.