This testimony was written by Rania*, a mother of a teenager with a disability, drawing on her lived experience of the UK asylum accommodation system. If you woudl like to share your experience on this blog, email us at info[at]peripheral-asylum.com.
Children and unsuitable food in hotels
When I first came to the UK to seek asylum, I knew very little about the country. I had no background knowledge about how things worked, what support was available, or where I could go if I needed help. Everything was unfamiliar.
For many people, a child refusing a meal might sound like a small or temporary problem. For me, it became something much bigger.
– Rania
When we arrived in the September of 2020, my children and I were placed in a hotel. We had already been through many difficult experiences, but I want to focus on one particular moment, because it has stayed with me.
At the time, my son was thirteen years old. He did not like the food provided in the hotel. He was unused to the smell, to the texture, to the taste. The food was completely unfamiliar to him. We were being served things like Shepards pie, and he did not know what it was.
He refused to eat it.
For many people, a child refusing a meal might sound like a small or temporary problem. For me, it became something much bigger.
My son has additional needs; he has cerebral palsy and is a full-time wheelchair user. He needs help to dress, to prepare food, and to wash himself. Before coming here, I had a large support network around me, family members who would help me. We also had equipment installed in our home that meant I didn’t have to lift him independently onto the toilet, or into the bath.
But at this point, I was alone. I was in a new country, living in accommodation where I could not cook, with a child whose needs were different from those of other children. I could not make him a familiar meal or cook something simple that I knew he would accept. I was completely dependent on the food that was provided.
My son continued refusing to eat. He went for almost a day and a half without eating properly.
As his mother, I wanted to do something very simple: I wanted to find food that he could eat. But I felt that I had no choices. I did not know the system, I did not know food banks existed, or there were charities who could offer meals. I did not know who I could ask for help, and I did not have the resources to solve the problem myself.
Lacking the resources for parenting
Most importantly, the money we were receiving was very limited. It was around £8 a week, per person. It was not enough for me to simply go somewhere and buy him a meal. Even if I knew where I could find food he might eat, getting there would cost money as well. I had to think carefully about every amount I spent. This was the moment when I felt the meaning of being powerless.
This experience changed the way I think about asylum accommodation. Accommodation is not only about providing a room or a bed. It is intrinsically linked to providing food, nourishment and care more generally.
– Rania
I was responsible for my child, but I did not have the freedom or resources to meet something as basic as his need for food.
I still remember the feeling more than anything else: I wanted to help my child, but I could not see a way to do it.
This experience changed the way I think about asylum accommodation. Accommodation is not only about providing a room or a bed. It is intrinsically linked to providing food, nourishment and care more generally.
People arrive with different needs, different backgrounds and different family circumstances. For a family with a child who has additional needs, having access to a kitchen or having some flexibility around food can make a huge difference. What might look like a minor issue from the outside can become a serious and distressing situation for a parent and child.
What choices do parents have in asylum accommodation?
Looking back at this experience now, especially through my role as a peer researcher, I understand why lived experience matters. People who have experienced asylum accommodation can notice things that may not be obvious to someone looking at the system from the outside.
Sometimes, it is not the biggest or most dramatic event that stays with you. Sometimes it is just one heartbreaking moment — sitting with your child, watching them go hungry, and feeling that you have no way to help.
I share this experience because I want people to understand that families in asylum accommodation need more than the basics being technically provided. They need to have their individual circumstances understood. They need a home, a place they can feel protected, a place they can have some autonomy over, a place they feel enables them to provide the care their loved ones need.
For me, the question is simple: if a parent cannot prepare or find suitable food for their child, what choices do they really have? The violent effects of asylum accommodation extend beyond ‘housing’ into other important elements of peoples’ lives, including parenting. How can someone be a good parent if they do not have a choice over how to best care for their children?
*All names have been anonymised for confidentiality purposes. The photographs do not depict Rania or her son.
Leave a Reply