by Rosemarie
My name is Rosemarie. I'm 38 years old. I am the breadwinner of my family. My father worked hard to give us everything to survive daily life. He worked as a carpenter, working in a house that we dreamed of one day having. I finished high school and looked for work to help my parents financially, but sadly my salary was not enough.
I worked as a seamstress in a garment factory back in the Philippines. As my parents got older and needed regular medication, I decided to work abroad in the hopes of giving them a better future and lifting our lives out of poverty.
In June 2016, I received a message from an employment agency, they had arranged a job as a domestic worker for me in Qatar, and I needed to pack my things immediately to leave. Over my final meal with my parents, I told them that I would be leaving tomorrow, and that I wouldn’t see them for two years. They were shocked, and hugged me tightly, telling me to take care and keep safe.
When I arrived at my first employer’s house, I felt empty and lonely. But my determination to give my parents a better future and support them in their older age gave me strength. Not everything that I told my family on the phone while I was abroad was true. I smiled, I laughed at the jokes we shared, and I made a lot of effort to show them that I was happy, but deep inside, I was broken and lost. My first employer didn't give me my proper salary that was indicated in my contract. I worked long hours, with no days off. I requested an increase in my salary but my employer refused. After three months, I asked them to bring me back to my agency in Qatar.
With my second employer, I looked after a child. At first, my employers were nice but after a while, they started screaming, calling me different names like animals, shouting and pointing out that I took their things. The child started to be moody, and there were times when he would hit me with any toys that he was holding. My employer would laugh and shout, saying “Let my child hit you.”
My employer brought me here to the UK for a vacation in 2017. The two weeks that we stayed here were a nightmare. One night, I watched a clip of Filipino life in the UK, and I saw a name: Marissa Begonia, who is the founder of the Voice of Domestic Workers (VODW) — a campaign and support charity advocating for the rights of migrant domestic workers. I found the organisation via social media, and with their help, I escaped from my employer. I was free, I could breathe, I felt at peace and released from the cage.
I had hoped I could renew my visa, which was due to expire in March 2018. But I found out that I wasn’t able to do this because the UK government removed the rights of migrant domestic workers to change employers in 2012. I could only apply to the National Referral Mechanism (NRM), which would assess whether I was a victim of modern slavery and human trafficking. But when I failed the NRM assessment, I lost my right to work. I only survived through the support of the Voice of Domestic Workers, where I am a member.
Sometimes, I would stay with my friends or at Marissa’s house. One early morning in December 2018, immigration officers knocked on the flat where I was staying. They caught me and my friends and detained us for interrogation over Christmas and New Year. At that time, I did not tell my family so that they would not be worried.
I was moved to Yarl’s Wood detention centre and I began to worry I would end up being deported. I was not prepared to go home. I felt I was sentenced to a death penalty in the detention centre. After three weeks, I was released when I received a positive reasonable grounds decision under the National Referral Mechanism after a second assessment, meaning I was a potential victim of modern slavery and human trafficking. It was a horrifying experience for me and finally, I called my family and told them what happened to me. They were all crying. Over the last five years, I have been required to report every month to the police station. It was hard but I had to be lawful.
In 2023, I received my positive conclusive grounds decision on my case, meaning I am a victim of modern slavery and trafficking. I was granted a one year Overseas Domestic Worker visa to stay and work in the UK and this is renewable up to another one year only.
In March 2024, I flew back home to my hometown. My heart filled with excitement and happiness, and as my plane landed, I saw my parents and sister waiting for me to arrive. After so long of only hearing their voices over the phone, I saw their faces and received a warm welcome hug from my parents. It was a hug that I missed, and for years, thought I wouldn’t be able to experience again.
28 days passed at home with my family, but it felt like just an hour for me. Life in the Philippines never changes. The face of poverty remains and many people are still suffering from hunger. It’s a life I don’t want for my family. Even though I wanted to stay, I needed to return to the UK so I could continue to provide for my family.
I want to change my storyline, to build for the future and fight the battles my parents never won. I feel like I am just starting, but I’m worried about what will happen after my visa expires next year. I hope the government will allow us to extend our visa to stay legally and work. We contribute to this country, and deserve the same rights and opportunities as anyone else.
About the author
Rosemarie is from Cavite, in the Philippines, and is 38 years old. She decided to work abroad with the hopes that she could find a better life and continue to help her family. She has been an active member of The Voice of Domestic Workers since 2017 and is a part of the organisation’s Fundraising Group.
Rosemarie is part of the Future Voices programme, a unique leadership and training programme run in partnership between the Voice of Domestic Workers and Sounddelivery Media equipping a new network of migrant domestic workers with the knowledge, skills and confidence to share their stories, influence public opinion and advocate for change.
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