This is a testimony from Walid, one of the Peer Researcher involved in the PAAP. To be in touch with him please email info[at]peripheral-asylum.com.
The Invisible Underclass
If you think being a refugee is the most marginalized position in society, think again. Being a ’failed’ asylum seeker is the true underclass—a reality I lived for nearly four years.
During 2019 I bounced between London hostels, completely cut off from financial aid and housing support. That’s how I met Olivia*, an Irish woman in her sixties visiting her daughter in London, at a hostel in north-west London. During our conversations, she mentioned she owned a house in London and offered to rent me a room. I stayed there for two weeks before she had to leave for Dublin.
Before departing, she made an offer: I could live rent-free in a newly built cabin in her garden if I agreed to look after the property and collect rent from her tenants. I accepted and I lived in the cabin between 2019 and 2022. When COVID-19 pandemic struck in 2019, however, Olivia’s biweekly trips back to London came to a halt, leaving me isolated in that cabin for a very long time.
A Glimmer of Hope
After moving out from the cabin in 2022, I lived in a few houses with different British families under the Refugees at Home scheme for about 20 months. The families were comforting and generous. Then, a glimmer of hope appeared. I managed to find a solicitor and I submitted a further submission application for my asylum claim. Soon after, I was allocated a room in a shared house in Reading provided by the Home Office.
Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived. My housemates smoked inside their rooms, and the smoke drifted throughout the house. For me, this wasn’t just an annoyance, it triggered severe physical trauma. The slightest exposure to tobacco smoke left me coughing constantly for hours, leaving my throat and tonsils inflamed for days.
Bureaucracy: What else?
For nearly two years, I tried every possible channel to resolve the issue. I submitted numerous requests to the Home Office through Migrant Help, only to receive rejections after weeks of waiting each time.
I called my local council, but they claimed the Home Office was responsible for me, not them. I reached out to my MP, who kindly wrote to Migrant Help and the Home Office on my behalf, but the response was always identical: I should be fine as long as people smoked in their own rooms. They constantly hid behind a rigid motto I grew to abhor: “Housing is provided on a no-choice basis.”
Medical evidence from four different GPs attesting to my condition made no difference. Even evidence of my extensive volunteer work failed to grant my words credibility in the eyes of the system.
’We, Voices Ambassadors, strive to empower refugees and grant them the rights they deserve in the country that gave the world the Magna Carta,’ I told the King.
Warm Smiles, Cold System
By the end of 2023, alongside initiating chess clubs in a library and a catholic school in London, I had been involved in British Red Cross The VOICES Networks. In my role as Voices Ambassador, I received an invitation to a royal event, where I had the opportunity to speak with both the King and the Queen.
’We, Voices Ambassadors, strive to empower refugees and grant them the rights they deserve in the country that gave the world the Magna Carta,’ I told the King.
’Keep trying…’ the King replied, his voice sounding reassuring, yet his eyes laden with doubt!
’At Voices we advocate for refugee issues and aim to influence policymakers to produce a better, more humane refugee system,’ I said to the Queen.
’Keep up the good work and I’m sure it will pay off!,‘ she murmured, drawing a warm smile.
But that was hardly my experience.
The immense strain took a heavy psychological toll on me. How could a ‘no-choice policy’ justify forcing someone to live in conditions that actively harmed their health? Why was I never given the benefit of the doubt, even after countless medical notes and official requests submitted on my behalf?
Taking the Fight to Croydon
After exhausting every official avenue, an idea sparked in my mind: why not protest directly in front of the Home Office headquarter in Croydon?
It was a risky move. I had not yet received my Leave to Remain, and most asylum seekers avoid drawing attention to themselves for fear of impacting their claims. But I had reached my limit.
In the summer of 2025 I began a one-man demonstration outside the Home Office entrance in the early afternoons, holding up a placard to remind to the authorities and the public that refugee lives matter too.
On two occasion officials agreed to speak with me. They promised that the housing team would reach out, but those promises were never kept.
Eventually, the rising cost of travels from my house to Croydon made it impossible for me to continue.
More Red Tape and Temporary Relief
Months later, I received a notice to vacate the Home Office shared accommodation, together with the other ’service users’—a term used by the Home Office instead of ’tenants’ to withhold standard civil rights. The property was being returned to the landlord, and we were all expected to relocate in a different house in the area.
I contacted the Asylum Support Tribunal, but it refused to hear my case because of a technicality: the Tribunal only consider cases from people denied or terminated from asylum support, and I fit neither category. As if I needed more red tape in my life.
Everyone in the house moved except me, as I refused to relocate unless I received a guarantee that my new accommodation would be smoke-free. For about two months, I stayed in the house alone. It was the only break I had where I could enjoy a completely smoke-free environment.
Then in the early Spring of 2026 came the knock on the door!
The Eviction
Standing outside were two house managers, accompanied by three men and a woman in uniform.
I may have lost one battle, but the fight to build a fairer system is still ongoing ! And I am not tired, or not just yet
They demanded that I vacate the property immediately. I refused and asked to see proper legal documents or a court eviction order. Ignoring my request, the uniformed individuals pushed past me and began bagging up my personal belongings without my consent.
In desperation, I called the police and reported that unknown individuals were forcing me out of my home without any official paperwork.
At first the police showed interest but, then, I mentioned that the landlord was standing outside with them.
The officer’s attitude shifted instantly: ’Sort it out with your landlord; we don’t get involved in civil matters,’ I was told by the officer.
Left with no legal protection, I was prevented from re-entering my room and the house. The people carrying out the eviction did not physically remove me, but they used calculated pressure to force me out. Eventually, I gave in. A taxi was called, and I was taken to a new house.
A Way Forward
The problem persists today. One of my current housemates smokes, vapes, and uses a shisha pipe in his room. I cough daily. I keep all doors and windows wide open through the day and night. I have now stopped complaining; I came to learn to save my energy and time.
Fortunately, I have finally received my Leave to Remain. I am now looking for a small studio apartment in London where I can be certain no smokers will jeopardize my health again.
My experience of the Home Office accommodation system has left a deep bitterness in my heart. I only hope the damage to my voice from constant coughing isn’t permanent. The system is ruthless in the way it disregard human vulnerability. While as a Voices Ambassador I strive to protect people like me, I feel I failed to protect my own rights and well-being during this ordeal.
I may have lost one battle, but the fight to build a fairer system is still ongoing ! And I am not tired, or not just yet.
* All names have been anonymised for confidentiality purposes.
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