{"id":320,"date":"2018-01-22T17:20:48","date_gmt":"2018-01-22T16:20:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artherapievirtus.org\/migrants\/?p=320"},"modified":"2018-02-06T17:29:57","modified_gmt":"2018-02-06T16:29:57","slug":"healing-londons-refugees-with-art-therapy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artherapievirtus.org\/migrants\/2018\/01\/healing-londons-refugees-with-art-therapy\/","title":{"rendered":"Healing London\u2019s refugees with art therapy"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>22nd January 2018
\nBy Max Horberry
\nCurrently there are 65 million people displaced around the world, 22 million are seeking asylum in other countries. According to the Red Cross, approximately 119,000 refugees are living in the UK. Many arrive with an array of traumas and the asylum seeking process can aggravate these issues.<\/strong><\/em>
\nAcross London there are a small number of groups that help asylum seekers and refugees heal and develop. The New Art Studio (newartstudio.org.uk) provides a space for art therapy. Every week, asylum seekers and refugees can take a full day to paint and draw at their own pace. If they need guidance in their work, whether technical or emotional, that is available to them. Some work alone, others talk and share.<\/p>\n

Salim paints in bright colours. He comes from North Africa and one day he decided he couldn\u2019t live in fear anymore. \u201cEvery morning when I would go to work,\u201d he says, \u201cI would tell my mother I\u2019m not sure if I\u2019m coming back. There were bombs in the cars and at anytime they could explode.\u201d Salim (who asked that his name be changed for this article) saw friends and family killed. One of his cousins was walking down the street and two people shot him point blank. \u201cLike the Mafia,\u201d he says. \u201cThat\u2019s why I said No, this is not life.\u201d He left and 12 years went by before he saw his family again. He spent those 12 years living in uncertainty, not knowing whether he would be sent back or whether his family were alive.<\/p>\n

When he thinks of his home country, he says he thinks of his grandmother\u2019s farm. He remembers the bright yellow sunflowers. He likes to use yellow in his painting. It makes him happy.<\/p>\n

Arriving in an unknown country as an asylum seeker can be terrifying. The effects of trauma can make an unpleasant experience unbearable. Zahra (whose name has also been changed) came over from Iran with her 1-year old son. On arrival in the UK she was taken to a detention centre. Out of her mind with fear, she didn\u2019t sleep, worried she would be beaten, tortured, even raped by the guards.<\/p>\n

Yet despite how intimidating it might be, it would be worse still to go back. Zahra was politically active in Iran, defending women\u2019s rights. This got her into trouble with the repressive government. If she were sent back she would be imprisoned and tortured. \u201cThe same as before,\u201d she says, \u201cand now if I go back home they will kill me.\u201d Her voice cracks as she completes the sentence. She remains stoic. Zahra says she likes to paint portraits of women\u2019s faces, showing the strength in their femininity.<\/p>\n

Eight years have gone by and Zahra still doesn\u2019t know whether she will be granted refugee status or sent back. The stress of this uncertainty can take a heavy toll on individuals who have already suffered traumas. Panic attacks and flashbacks can get worse and living in this purgatory, there is no room to move on with their lives. They are stuck in a narrative which defines them as a victim and an asylum seeker. Many have gone through experiences that have tested their faith in humanity and they are left to wait, at the mercy of strangers.<\/p>\n

Disillusionment and loss of faith are not forms of trauma typically recognised, but these are just as significant as any other, says Renos Papadopoulos from the University of Essex and Director of the Centre for Trauma, Asylum and Refugees. Losing your home and cultural support system can lead to total despair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI lost my identity,\u201d says Salim. \u201cEven now I have this problem, it\u2019s my home but if I go back I feel like a stranger.\u201d He has become stuck between two countries and the longer he stays in the UK the more of a home it becomes.<\/p>\n

When Salim eventually visited his home country, once it was safe to do so, he was shocked. \u201cAll my brothers have grown up, have kids. My mother is an old woman. It is like travelling to the future, like time travel.\u201d He would ask after friends, cousins, his grandmother. Dead, was the reply.<\/p>\n

He spent 12 years worried about his family\u2019s safety and they had spent it worried about his. \u201cImagine your mum,\u201d he says. \u201cShe misses you. Sometimes I ask myself, am I selfish? She\u2019s feeling sick, always crying. She\u2019s waiting.\u201d Many asylum seekers are unable to be in contact with their families for reasons of safety. If knowledge of their whereabouts falls into the wrong hands, they might be hunted down or their family threatened. They often have to cut all ties and grieve for a family and home lost.<\/p>\n

Salim said he feels powerless. \u201cI think I am safe but my parents are not safe. I feel a little bit selfish.\u201d Friends and family have died and he has been unable to do anything about it. It is understandable that many refugees and asylum seekers suffer from survivor\u2019s guilt. They question why they have the right to survive while their family members remain in peril or have died. Stuck in National Asylum Support Service (NASS) accommodation, far out in the suburbs, not permitted to work, with only \u00a336 a week, it can feel as if it were all for nothing. A sense of worthlessness and hopelessness takes over. Weeks and months blur into each other. These are often educated people and after everything they\u2019ve been through, this lack of purpose can be harmful.<\/p>\n

Words can seem inadequate when expressing what some of these people have gone through. \u201cI need to explain myself with art,\u201d says Salim. \u201cI\u2019m a shy person. I can\u2019t explain myself, but I talk with my art. Some paintings are aggressive, some are happy, but I tell my story.\u201d<\/p>\n

Giving people like Salim the power to express themselves on their own terms means they have the space to express feelings around the traumas they have suffered without letting those experiences define them. While talking about trauma can be beneficial for some, for others it can run the risk of more deeply embedding the trauma. Some need to forget, others cannot. Either way, the art can allow them to focus on what empowers them.<\/p>\n

Often asylum seekers have left their home country because they have a set of values they cannot live without. They have been persecuted for these. Yet focussing on those values can emphasise their strength. Zahra celebrates female strength in her paintings. She says it makes her feel free. \u201cYou draw just one line,\u201d she says, \u201cand it makes you happy. It\u2019s coming out from your inside. The anger, the depression, the anxiety\u2013it comes out from your hand and leaves it and it makes you feel relaxed and happy.\u201d Some paint memories, good and bad; the scenic Kurdish mountains they miss, the small figure in a darkness they once were. Others paint from the imagination. The art provides an opportunity for an internal dialogue, taking them to their darkest places and their best ambitions. After each day of painting they are invited to show their work on the wall and open up that dialogue . It\u2019s a vulnerable place in which to put themselves but allows them to tell their story, be heard and have the group bear witness. It provides a community, a safe space, a sense of purpose and progress.<\/p>\n

When Salim got his British passport he felt like a human again. Now at the age of 44, he says he wants to be an artist and sell his paintings. \u201cI want to do more art. I believe in myself.\u201d He smiles and says \u201cremember my name.\u201d He also wants to go back to his home country for a period to spend time with his mother to make up for the lost time. Zahra feels at home in London. She comments on the respect she sees. On the bus, in the street, she says, people are respectful. \u201cI feel very peaceful here.\u201d Understandably she worries about her son. \u201cHe is my future, I am scared for him. He is my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Art cannot change the past nor predict the future. Yet giving people like Salim and Zahra authorship over their narrative and a trusting space in which others can bear witness to those stories can make them feel human again and gives them a power they perhaps felt they didn\u2019t have before. The New Art Studio is not alone in what it does but groups like them only scratch the surface of a problem that is playing out across the world and demonstrate how effective a blank canvas and a safe space can be.<\/p>\n

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