One year on from the riots: The real-world cost of anti-women and anti-refugee politics

It has been one year since the far-right, racist and Islamophobic riots swept across the UK, targeting hotels accommodating people seeking asylum. The scenes of summer 2024 – riot police, flares, violent disorder, hate chants – were horrifying, but they weren’t isolated. They were the result of a hostile political culture that has dehumanised and demonised people who come to the UK to seek safety.

And a year later, that hostility hasn’t disappeared. It’s hardened. Let’s be clear, the far-right protests of last year, and those of today, didn’t emerge in a vacuum. They were legitimised by certain politicians and elements of the media that repeatedly scapegoat some of the most vulnerable in our society.

We have seen MPs use language echoing the far-right to describe people seeking safety in the UK – language I won’t repeat and give weight to here – and newspapers routinely splash sensationalist headlines designed to stoke fear, division and hatred.

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When this kind of rhetoric comes from people in power, it gives cover to violence. It emboldens. It creates a climate in which hostility not only becomes acceptable, but inevitable.

And it has real life consequences. It turns refugee women into targets. At Women for Refugee Women, where we support women navigating the asylum system in the UK, we have heard from countless women who are afraid to go outside. They fear they will be targeted, simply for seeking safety here.

This includes Maria, who came to the UK seeking safety from religious persecution and has been living in a hotel just outside of London for over a year whilst waiting for a decision on her asylum claim. Last summer, Maria’s hotel was targeted by violent protesters during the riots. Since then, protests have been a regular occurrence. In the last two months alone, Maria’s hotel has been targeted a further four times. These smaller-scale protests may not make the headlines, but they have a far-reaching impact on the lives of those targeted.

Maria said: “In my home country, I was not safe – physically or mentally, now I feel the same things in the UK. My mental health has been affected so badly, I’m taking medication now for depression.”

Or women like Memory, who told us: “It is re-traumatising. It brings back memories of the very reasons I had to flee my home. It is upsetting and draining – mentally and physically – to be living in constant fear. Being a black woman, it makes me more aware of my identity. You don’t feel safe, when you leave your home, when you’re walking on the streets… You don’t want to mention it to anyone you know that you’re a refugee. You don’t know what their reaction will be and you can’t risk it. ”

This should shame us. The UK prides itself on standing up for those in need and for being a nation that respects human rights. But this rings hollow when women fleeing persecution, violence and abuse are met with angry and violent protests and indifferent politicians.

The government must choose responsibility over rhetoric. The media must report fact over fear. A good starting point for both would be recognising that the people behind the headlines are not statistics or threats – they are humans, like me or you.

We know first-hand from the women we support that they are seeking safety from unimaginable threats, trauma and violence. They are women like Maria and Memory.

We must reject this culture of fear and division. Instead, we must invest in and build a compassionate and fair asylum system – not one that leaves people in limbo for years and housed in unsuitable accommodation, such as hotels. We must build communities of welcome – not let hatred shape who belongs. We all have a role to play in this.

One year on from the riots, the question we must ask is simple: whose voices do we listen to – those who incite fear, or those who ask for refuge? The answer will define who we are.

Carenza Arnold is head of campaigns for Women for Refugee Women.

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