THE DETAINEE

 

The struggle of being an immigrant can be a challenging experience, but for many female immigrants, the struggle goes beyond the difficulties of adapting to a new country. In some cases, female immigrants find themselves held in prison under immigration power, which can have a profound emotional impact on their well-being. In this blog post, I will tell you my story and explore the emotional struggles that I faced.

“It is not the punishment, it is the separation that breaks me.” 

Female immigrants can be detained for various reasons, such as entering a country without proper documentation, overstaying a visa, or being involved in criminal activities. While the reasons for detention may vary, the emotional toll it takes on these women is often similar. While the immigration centers are full, a number of people now are detained in prisons, restricted by prison rules.

Entering a prison for the first time is an overwhelming experience. The atmosphere is tense, the surroundings unfamiliar, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead certainly is daunting. Especially with all the movies, news about prisons’ life, I only can expect the worst. 

Upon arrival at the prison, the registration process begins. This involves waiting for hours to be processed, surrounded by an oddly peaceful wallpaper that seems out of place in such a setting. You will undergo a comprehensive search, potentially including a strip search where you must remove all your clothing. Following that, you will be seated in a specialized chair known as the BOSS chair, which ensures that no electronic or phone devices are concealed within your person. I was shocked to see the chair, only it looks like the electrocuted chair in horror movies. This process is humiliating and intrusive but you don’t have the option to refuse so it is best just to get on with it; the prison officers don’t enjoy it any more than you do.

Embrace the challenge of a body search in prison, where your dignity is put to the test and your personal space is violated. The wait can be nerve-wracking, as anticipation builds for what is to come. After hours of waiting, I was finally given some large plastic bin bags to store my belongings. These bags become my only means of carrying personal items within the prison. I am now not who I am, I am a number, everyone there was given a number and everything will process by that number. 

The first night in prison can be likened to being in a mental hospital. The sounds of doors banging, people crying, hauling and even laughter fill the air, creating an unsettling environment. The concept of time becomes blurred, as it is difficult to determine when one arrived in this new world. 

The cell itself is a far cry from the comfort of home. It consists of a bunk bed, a panel as a table, a sink and a toilet without a lid, both mounted in plain sight without any privacy door. The lighting is dim, adding to the overall gloominess of the space. The bedding provided is a smelly old duvet, devoid of any cover, and adorned with sanitary napkins sticking on flickering light, countless stains, next morning I discovered to be blood. 

Surviving the first day in prison is undoubtedly a challenging feat. The unfamiliarity, lack of privacy, and unsettling atmosphere can take a toll on my weak, distraught mental and emotional well-being. I lost all my energy and fell asleep with tears in my eyes. 

As the women wait in line for breakfast, I have a chance to meet my fellow inmates. This can be a daunting experience, especially for those who are new to the prison environment. The women come from diverse backgrounds and have their own unique stories to share. Some may have been in prison for years, while others may be serving shorter sentences or be remanding there.

It is not uncommon to encounter women who appear to be under the influence of drugs, with a greenish hue on their faces. Substance misuse is a prevalent issue within the prison system, and it can have a profound impact on the physical and mental well-being of the inmates. The sight of these women serves as a reminder of the challenges they face and the need for support and rehabilitation.

Additionally, you may come across women with tattoos covering their faces and bodies. Tattoos can hold significant meaning for individuals, and in prison, they often serve as a form of self-expression or a way to mark one's affiliation with a particular group. These tattoos can be a visual representation of the struggles and experiences these women have endured.

Understanding the daily routine of women in prison can also be very challenging. In theory, new inmates are supposed to have 2 induction weeks to know the regime and someone will come to explain. However, in practice you will be locked behind doors more than 23 hours, most of the time with other(s). According to prison regulations, individuals are permitted to leave their prison cells for fresh air or personal hygiene for a minimum of 30 minutes each day. However, there may be challenges relating to staff availability. 

Being an immigrant in a foreign country can be challenging, but for female immigrants who find themselves in prison, the emotional struggles can be even more profound. One of the most significant challenges they face is the feeling of isolation and loneliness. They may feel cut off from the world and experience a sense of abandonment. Female immigrants in prison often feel isolated due to a combination of factors. Firstly, they are separated from their families and support networks, which can be devastating for their emotional well-being. Additionally, language barriers can make it difficult for them to communicate and connect with other inmates or prison staff. This sense of isolation is further exacerbated by cultural differences and the unfamiliarity of the prison environment.

I am not an exception from knowing that fact. I am a cuddly person, especially with my children. A cuddle and a kiss would solve everything. However, in prison it is not simple like that. During visiting hours, we are not allowed to hug, hold hands of course kisses. Staff are undoubtedly not allowed to hug or have any physical contact with inmates, but even some charities’ workers or the priest of the church who came to comfort them are also not allowed.

Being held in prison under immigration power can create a constant state of fear and uncertainty for female immigrants. I may not know how long I will be detained or what my future holds. This fear and uncertainty can lead to anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues. It is like a sentence on top of another sentence but it is worse as you have never known the release date. 

For many female immigrants that I met, being held in prison can result in a loss of identity and dignity. They may be stripped of their personal belongings, and subjected to sometimes ridiculous rules and regulations, strict regimes. For example, no one can store more than 2 packs of toilet tissue in their cells. You are talking about a prison which is full of women, we need more than 2 packs of toilet weekly which is used for everything from cleaning mouths to tables and personal hygiene. If the random search finds out, they will be notified of adjudication, taken away from their privileges such as total isolation, no work, no activities, no TV, less money to spend on canteen or phone to family. 

In prison, every inmate comes in as standard status and detainees are not exception. Each prison has an incentives scheme. Your incentive level will say if there are extra things you can get or do.This is called Incentives and Earned Privileges or ‘IEP’ and you may still hear it called this. There are currently three main Incentive levels. The Incentives Policy Framework includes definitions for the different incentives levels, as Basic, Standard, Enhanced. In order to be an Enhanced prisoner, it would take about 12 weeks to “prove” yourselves and earn at least 3 positive IEPs. With Enhanced status, I can have more visits in a month, and have more weekly spending money drop. I did not know that from the beginning, I was desperate for more visit other than twice per month, and more phone credits but I was not in jail for 12 weeks yet. The guilt kills me every day. I was desperate, I hurt my loved ones, my children, my partner, my parents. I couldn't see a future, and the shame ate me alive. I started to hurt myself, and multiple time to attempt suicide. I actually witnessed self-harm and attempted suicide most days. It has become a norm sadly. More than half of the women here where most have been sentenced for life. It has a higher proportion of prisoners serving life than any other British women’s jail. Yet many here regularly cut themselves or try to commit suicide, leading to some 12 ambulance call-outs a month. I witnessed people drinking hand-sanitisers, slatting themselves and overdosing. Someone was battered by fellow prisoners with a garden hose, stones, a metal bar and a plank, leaving her with broken ribs, shoulder and wrist.

 

Female immigrants held in prison often face limited access to resources that can support their emotional well-being. Mental health services may be inadequate or nonexistent, leaving these women without the necessary support to cope with their emotional struggles. Being a mother behind bars is a constant battle between love and despair. The emotional fluctuations can be overwhelming, and the weight of not being able to be there for my children can feel unbearable. 

Language and cultural barriers can further exacerbate the emotional struggles faced by female immigrants in prison. Communication may be difficult, making it challenging to express their needs and concerns. Additionally, cultural differences may result in misunderstandings and a sense of alienation.

Where I was, only a handful of immigrants. All of us speak different languages. But we look after each other when needed. We are united in our diversity, bound by our shared experiences, and driven by our dreams. Life in prison can be tough. The monotony, the isolation, the lack of freedom—it can really take a toll on a person. 

But sometimes, in the most unexpected places, you find a glimmer of hope, a ray of sunshine amidst the darkness. For a group of immigrants like us, that glimmer came in the form of food and communication. When you're far away from home, the taste of your mother's cooking can transport you back to a place of comfort and familiarity. We longed for that feeling, so we decided to chip in and create a makeshift canteen where we could try to assemble  each other's traditional dishes. It was a way to preserve our culture, to share a piece of home with one another. Food has a magical way of bringing people together. As we sat around the table, sharing our meals, we formed a bond that transcended language barriers and cultural differences. We laughed, we cried, we shared stories of our past and dreams for the future. In those moments, we were not just inmates—we were a family. Our body language became more expressive, more confident. We no longer needed words to understand each other. Many of our fellow immigrants were illiterate or struggled with English, making it difficult for them to navigate the complex world of paperwork and applications. I saw an opportunity to lend a helping hand. I became their translators, their scribes, their advocates. I filled out forms, wrote letters, and made sure their voices were heard. 

I felt like a black sheep, a stain on my family's reputation. The guilt and self-loathing were overwhelming, and I couldn't help but think that I didn't deserve to be my children's mother. One of my biggest fears was the possibility of being deported. If that happened, my life would crumble before my eyes. My husband would divorce me, leaving me with no money, no job, and no chance of having custody of my children. The thought was paralyzing.

So, picture this: you're stuck in a legal limbo, anxiously waiting for your bail hearing. It's like being on a never-ending rollercoaster ride, except you're not having any fun and there's no cotton candy in sight. But fear not, my friend, because with help from BID UK (Bail for Immigration Detainees), I finally got my shot at freedom. There I was, sitting in the video room, feeling like a fish out of water. The judge's words were a blur, but then it happened. He granted my bail. Cue the waterworks! I couldn't hold back the tears, and neither could one of the prison staff members sitting beside me. We cried together, like a couple of emotional wrecking balls.

With the judge's decision, I could finally go home to my beloved family. The feeling was indescribable, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. No more cold, sterile detention centers. No more sleepless nights wondering when I'll see my children and husband again. It was time to reunite and create some serious family memories.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "But wait, what exactly is a bail hearing?" Well, my friend, let me break it down for you. A bail hearing is like a golden ticket to freedom. It's a chance for the judge to decide whether you can be released from detention while your case is ongoing. And let me tell you, that decision can make all the difference in the world.

Thanks to BID UK, I had the support and guidance I needed to navigate the legal maze. They were my guardian angels, swooping in to save the day. Without them, I would have been lost in a sea of legal jargon and paperwork, at the worst my life. They were my go-to resource, answering all my questions and providing a shoulder to cry on (literally).

So, if you find yourself in a similar situation, don't despair. Reach out to organizations like BID UK, who are there to lend a helping hand. Trust me, they are godsend people. They'll fight tooth and nail to ensure you get the fair treatment you deserve.

Now, I'm back where I belong, surrounded by the people I love. The journey wasn't easy, but with a little help and a lot of determination, I made it through. So, if you're facing a bail hearing, remember that there's hope. And who knows, you might just find yourself shedding tears of joy, just like I did.

*** The pictures in this blog are extracted from my picture book, which I drew while I was detained.

This blog has been awarded as "HIGHLY COMMENDED" for Non fiction, blog article and review.

and my picture book has been awarded as "COMMENDED' for Handmade book.