I provide care for your elderly relatives, the ones you cherish above all else. I offer support during their moments of fear, hold their trembling hands, and offer solace during the quiet of the night. I assist them in regaining their mobility, appetite, and sense of humanity.
Often, I am the reason for their first smile in weeks. Every day, I dedicate a part of myself to those under my care because they deserve respect, empathy, and affection.
As a migrant care worker, I take immense pride in the work I do silently and diligently. I do not provide care simply because it is part of a job description; it is an intrinsic part of who I am.
Arriving in the UK as an asylum seeker in search of safety and a fresh start, I found employment as a carer. Through my efforts, I earned the gratitude, respect, and genuine acknowledgment of the individuals and families I supported.
This recognition has given me a sense of purpose and strength. However, I sometimes feel as though the country I serve fails to see me fully — the individual behind the uniform, the one who gives tirelessly each day.
I work extended shifts that leave me exhausted. I fulfill my tax obligations like any other citizen. Nothing is handed to me; every achievement is the result of hard work, patience, and compassion.
Yet, I occasionally hear people refer to workers like myself as a “burden” or even as “strangers.” A burden?
I wake up before dawn to ensure someone’s mother is bathed, clothed, and comfortable. I stay late so a family can leave for work assured that their father is in safe hands.
I step up to fill vacancies that others shy away from. Care facilities remain operational because of our efforts. Hospitals continue to function because of us.
Families stay intact because of our dedication. If migrant carers were to vanish suddenly, the impact on the entire system would be profound, affecting millions of lives. The recent proposal suggesting that individuals like me wait a staggering *15 years* before applying for Indefinite Leave to Remain fills me with an indescribable sorrow.
Fifteen years of devoting my energy, time, and youth. Fifteen years of service, sacrifice, and loyalty — and still, the message is, “You do not belong here yet.”
We are not seeking special treatment or accolades. We are simply asking for fairness, for compassion. How can we be labeled a burden when we shoulder so much weight, when we uplift so many others?
I do not wish to feel like a transient guest in the place where I spend my days caring for others wholeheartedly. All I desire is stability, respect, and the opportunity to build a future without enduring decades of waiting to be recognized.
To the UK, I express this heartfelt sentiment: We are not here to take; we are here to give — a commitment we have upheld since our arrival.
My only hope is that one day, the country I serve with care will reciprocate that care towards us in return.
