By Amanda Lubit

Family separation is a common by-product of the UK’s hostile immigration policies, which cause children to grow up without parents, and parents to live without children. Many women asylum seekers separate from family, husbands and children for years while they wait for refugee status.  

Due to its recent conflict history and geopolitical isolation, Northern Ireland receives relatively small numbers of asylum seekers annually. In my research I most commonly encountered individuals from Nigeria, Sudan and Somalia who arrived through smugglers, with no prior knowledge of Northern Ireland as a possible destination.  Many women asylum seekers come alone or accompanied only by their young children. Some are separated from family and children due to the circumstances of their forced migration. Other female asylum seekers believe that women and small children have the greatest chance of securing refugee status, so they separate from family, husbands, and older children as a way to maximize their chances. They hope that their refugee status, once granted, will entitle them to family reunification which would bring their loved ones to join them in the United Kingdom (UK).

Family separation is a common by-product of the UK’s hostile immigration policies, which cause children to grow up without parents, and parents to live without their children. Once a woman arrives in the UK and makes a claim for asylum, she enters an extended period of waiting and uncertainty—one that often persists for years. Without knowing what the future will hold and without any meaningful rights, these women cannot build a home or plan for their future. Instead, they remain stuck in the present, trying to survive separation from their children (Hani’s story, below) or the demands of single motherhood (Iman’s story).

Between 2019 and 2020 I spent 15 months conducting ethnographic research with Muslim women in Belfast. Through this work I became involved with Sadiqa women’s space (the name has been changed to protect privacy), established by and for asylum seekers and refugees. Throughout the year that I volunteered there, I got to know the women and their stories. Although I share only two stories here (Hani and Iman - whose names have been changed to protect privacy), family separation was an extremely common theme in the lives of the women at Sadiqa.

Hani’s Story

Now in her early fifties, Hani has lived separated from her husband and nine children for fifteen years. Originally from Somalia, a sudden outbreak of violence near her hometown forced the family to flee. In the confusion that ensued, the family was separated and ended up at different refugee camps in neighbouring countries. Although Hani now knows where her mother, sisters, brothers, husband, and children ended up, at the time she was alone and uncertain who had survived or if she would even see them again. Ripped suddenly from her home and family, Hani spent months wondering “who is alive, who is not alive?” before her family was traced. Even after they were located in refugee camps, it took years before she would have the ability to contact them.

Hani’s displacement journey nearly ended in Ireland, where she sought and was denied asylum. Seven years later, she moved to Northern Ireland to start the process again. In total, it took Hani fifteen years to obtain refugee status. She describes those years as a time filled with loss, disconnection, isolation, and uncertainty. Her life remained on hold for this entire time, and the prolonged wait was compounded by her separation from everyone she knew and loved.

“It is absolutely hard life to be without your family … it was very, very hard. And it took me ten years to stop crying. I cry. And even this morning I want to just cry. But people who are here with their family, they are living better than me because at least they have some members of the family, their children, or husband and wife. But I left behind my whole - my children, my mom, my brothers, my sisters, my husband, everyone. And I felt really broke.”

After a long and painful wait, Hani was finally granted refugee status in Northern Ireland and allowed to begin planning the rest of her life. Unfortunately, refugee status has not solved the problem of family separation. Since her case took fifteen years to resolve, all but two of Hani’s children are over the age of eighteen and no longer eligible for family reunification under UK laws. For fifteen years, Hani often requested that the UK return her to Somalia, but despite repeated detention and denial of her asylum case, the UK refused, leaving her with no opportunity to return and reunite with family. As a result, her children grew up without a mother, and Hani missed the ups and downs of family life as they grew from young children into the adults they are today.

Now Hani faces the impossible decision of whether to return to Somalia and reunite with her family or to remain in Northern Ireland where she has created a new home. “I would like… to see my family to be reunite. But unfortunately I don’t think so… is not fair to leave some and to take some. Who you can take? Who you can leave?… Maybe tomorrow it will change, maybe tomorrow I will be with my family once again."

Iman’s Story

While Hani’s refugee journey required prolonged separation from children, Iman’s journey required her to navigate single motherhood. Iman arrived in Northern Ireland through the UK’s Syrian Vulnerable Persons Resettlement Scheme. Under this scheme, the UK granted refugee status to a fixed number of Syrians living in refugee camps, allowing them to resettle in the UK. Iman qualified for the program as the mother of an infant son, but her husband did not. With the hope of eventual family reunification, Iman accepted resettlement in Belfast accompanied by her newborn son, Jamal.

Overnight Iman became a single mother, living alone in a foreign land where she knew none of the customs nor spoke the language. Upon arrival, the government placed her in temporary housing that was actually a hostel for the homeless. Many single mothers like Iman live in similar housing situations, trying to care for young children in temporary accommodations that also house homeless individuals with mental health and addiction issues.

For more than a year, Iman has lived in temporary housing watching Jamal grow from an infant to a toddler. In some ways time stands still as Iman waits for the UK to grant her request to reunite with her husband; in other ways time continues to move forward with Jamal learning to walk and conquering potty training within the walls of the hostel, all without his father nearby to witness these milestones.

Iman’s challenges extend beyond her housing. Although the government provides weekly support payments of £39.60 (plus £3 extra for a child under 3), that money is insufficient to pay for things like formula, wipes, diapers, and clothing that her growing son requires. Many weeks she, and countless women like her, must choose to forgo buying food for themselves in order to keep their children clean, dry and healthy. On a good week, a local charity has formula and diapers in Jamal’s size that they can provide.

Due to her circumstances, Iman spends every waking moment cooking, cleaning, and caring for Jamal. As a single mother with no support system, she never gets a break from motherhood. This is particularly problematic because without childcare, which friends and family would provide in Syria, Iman cannot attend English classes and remains unable to speak the local language. Her lack of language skills combined with her mothering responsibilities severely restrict Iman’s life. This is a situation she hopes will be temporary, coming to an end when her husband arrives.

A year into her resettlement, Jamal has grown into an energetic toddler and Iman always looks exhausted. Then one day her demeanor changed and a radiant smile brightened her features. She had received notification that her application for family reunion was granted and a date was set for her husband’s arrival in the UK. Unfortunately, her excitement was short-lived. Just weeks before the date arrived, the COVID-19 pandemic hit and all travel was suspended, plunging Iman and her family into another uncertain period of separation and waiting.  

Family separation and prolonged waiting are common in the lives of women asylum seekers and refugees like Iman and Hani. Their stories demonstrate the devastating effects of forced family separation which extend beyond immediate experiences of suffering or loss to the long-lasting physical and psychological impacts of state policies upon mothers, fathers, children and families.

About the author

Amanda Lubit is a PhD candidate in sociocultural anthropology at Queen’s University, Belfast. Her research focuses on gender, visibility, movement and space in relation to Muslim women in Northern Ireland. Further details on Hani’s story are scheduled for academic publication later this year. She is the current Reviews Editor for the Irish Journal of Anthropology and has two publications on embodied ethnography, protest and conflict. Previously she served as an adjunct professor of anthropology at George Washington University lecturing on gender, development, and humanitarianism. You can follow Amanda on Linkedin, ResearchGate and Twitter (@AmandaLubit).