From Syria to the UK: A Kurdish Woman’s Fight for Safety and Stability

Assad has fled – what next for Syria and Syrians living in the UK?

A Syrian Kurdish woman, resident in the UK, tells her story

Good morning, Ava*. Thank you very much for agreeing to talk to me today.

Let’s start with the fall of the Syrian regime. Can you describe your feelings about this?

I am relieved that the war will finally end. It's a moment of hope, knowing that people in Syria, who have suffered so much—losing countless lives and spending years in conflict—will now find some peace. It's heartbreaking that all of this suffering was caused by one person who was never qualified to lead his people, failing to provide even the basic necessities of life like food and shelter.

Do you have family in Syria? How are they?

Yes, I have family in Syria. My father is 64 years old, my older sister with her two children, some of my aunts, my younger brother with his wife and three children, and my in-laws who are both over 70, along with their disabled son and my sister-in-law. I also have my grandfather's family there.

They are under a lot of stress. The radical Turkish-allied soldiers are known for their violence towards women. This was seen in Afrin, a Kurdish city that was taken by these forces on Sunday, where there have been murders, rapes and other crimes, mostly directed against women. This  shatters the hopes of those wanting to rid themselves of Assad’s regime, and I am especially worried about the women in my family. The Kurdish population has been a persecuted minority for many decades.

What are your family’s hopes and fears?

Their hope is to be protected and secure in their own land, as they have endured enough loss, torture, and a poor quality of life. They long to be reunited as they were in the past, living in peace as normal, equal Syrian citizens—without being classified based on religion or treated as second-class citizens. They hope for equal opportunities to access jobs, education, and a better future for their children.

Their fears are rooted in the same persecution they’ve faced under the Assad regime, with the added fear of sexual violence against Kurdish women. Kurds are often labeled "atheists," which is completely untrue. The word is used as an insult and excuse for violence, and this has become a nightmare for many. Personally, I am still undergoing mental health therapy because I was threatened with violence when trying to flee Syria, and my sisters have had similar experiences in the countries they now live in—Germany, Denmark, and Sweden. There is also a deep fear of losing their lands and properties, with accusations of atheism used as justification, even though 90% of Kurds are Muslim, just like the rest of Syria. The true goal is to obliterate their identity, language, and culture. The Kurdish population is large, and many live along the Turkish border.

When did you leave Syria? Why?

I left Syria in 2015, shortly after ISIS entered Kurdish cities. The fear of being captured or targeted became overwhelming, so my sisters, parents, and I fled to Turkey. From there, we eventually made our way to the Kurdistan Region in Iraq, seeking safety.

Can you tell me a bit more about your family?

I come from a well-known Kurdish family in Kobani, with a grandfather who was wealthy. In our culture, there has traditionally been unequal treatment based on gender, with a preference for boys over girls. My mother, unfortunately, wasn’t able to have many sons; she had eight daughters in an attempt to have more boys to meet that expectation. However, my mother was strong and determined enough to defend our rights, especially when it came to education.

My father was educated and open-minded, and he fully supported my mother in her mission to ensure we had the chance to learn. Despite the pressure to focus on wealth and other priorities, he refused to compromise on education for his daughters. Eventually, we moved to Raqqa, where my father started a new job. We spent 20 years there, and it was a place where I had the opportunity to study in a grammar school and make many friends from all over Syria.

This environment, surrounded by diverse people and perspectives, helped shape my passion for supporting women, especially in their educational journeys. Thankfully, my sisters and I were able to pursue our studies, and most of us are now working in our respective fields, contributing to our communities in ways we once dreamed of.

How old were your kids when you arrived in the UK?

Lavan was 4 years old, and Eyan was 2 years old when we arrived two years ago.

What work did you and your husband do in Syria?

In Syria, I was a fresh graduate pharmacist, eager to pursue higher education and further my career. My husband was a medical doctor studying for a MSc—a degree in internal medicine, working at the University of Aleppo.

What was it like being an asylum seeker in London?

Being an asylum seeker in London was an incredibly tough journey. In many ways, it felt like an extension of the torturous experiences we had already endured. The challenges didn’t stop when we arrived—there was the uncertainty, the constant struggle for stability, and the fear of the future.

Being parents of two young, active children in that situation added another layer of difficulty. With limited financial support and not always having access to proper food or resources, it was a constant struggle to provide for them. Watching them grow up in such challenging conditions, while trying hard to give them the best possible care and stability, was emotionally and physically draining. The pressure of ensuring their well-being, especially when resources were so limited, made every day feel like a fight just to meet their basic needs.

For my husband, the pressure was doubled. Not only was he adjusting to life as an asylum seeker, but he also had to start the overwhelming process of qualifying his medical degree to be able to work as a doctor in the UK. He had to take several demanding exams, including the MRCP 1 and MRCP 2, while studying in a tiny hotel room.

After passing those exams, we moved to Scotland, where I had a scholarship to do an MSc in Clinical Pharmacology at Glasgow University. Life became a little easier, as we had a two bedroom flat, which felt like a palace after living in a cramped hotel for almost a year. However, both of us were under great pressure with our studies, as we wanted to rebuild our careers as soon as possible and create a stable home for our children. 

My husband had many more exams, like the Occupational English Test (OET) and the UKMLE 1. Now, he's preparing for the final step to become fully qualified, which will finally allow him to work with the NHS. It has been a long, challenging road, but he’s persevered, despite all the hardships. I was also challenged by my course, especially when it was coming to an end and I didn’t know where we would live afterwards.

Throughout it all, we've had to support each other while managing the pressures of rebuilding our lives and providing for our children. It hasn't been easy, but it’s been a journey of resilience and hope. Our future as a family in the UK feels much more secure than it did when we arrived in London, but the news from Syria has brought up painful memories and many uncertainties. I pray for my family every day.

What was this journey like for your kids?

For our kids, it has been a traumatic journey. Moving from city to city and constantly changing schools took a heavy toll on them, especially Lavan, who was born soon after my beloved mother was tragically killed by a bomb that had been planted in her dressing gown by ISIS. She died instantly.  I was nine months pregnant and had been looking forward to showing her the baby. My father told me later our house was labeled by our enemies “Kurdish House”.  

Lavan was an anxious child. He was born when I was in deep shock, grieving the sudden loss of my mother. When we moved to London, he had significant difficulties adapting to the circumstances we were in, with constant upheaval and changing environments. He hated living in a cramped hotel, where we had no kitchen and could not live a normal family life. The instability, the language barriers, and the emotional weight of what we had all gone through made it hard for him to settle, Fortunately, he is doing much better now.

Tell me more about your lives in London.

Our lives in London were extremely difficult. We were placed in a hotel in the center of London for nearly a year, with very limited financial support—just a small weekly allowance. While the hotel provided basic food, it wasn’t enough to make us feel settled or comfortable. The children didn’t like it (it was often too spicey) and they didn’t understand why their mama couldn’t cook for them.

The situation was far from secure. The reception staff would often enter our room without notice, and we weren’t allowed to use any electrical devices in the room. The space was cramped, and the furniture had sharp edges, which was especially dangerous for lively young children like Lavan and Eyan. We watched them closely but on one occasion Eyan suddenly jumped on the bed and landed on a corner of the cupboard. He nearly lost an eye – he needed an operation under general anaesthetic.

We were moved from one hotel to another repeatedly, which made it even harder to establish any routine or stability for the kids, particularly for Lavan, who was already struggling to adapt to the constant changes.

Despite these challenges, I focused on keeping Lavan in the same school, trying to provide some continuity for him, and I also worked tirelessly to secure a future for myself. I applied for dozens of scholarships, wrote countless personal statements for different universities across the UK, all in the hopes of furthering my pharmacy studies and qualifying to work in the UK. It was a time of immense stress and uncertainty, but I knew that education and a better future for our family were the only ways forward.

You got a scholarship to do an MSc. Clinical pharmacology at the University of Glasgow. That’s amazing. Congratulations! What has it been like living in Scotland?

Studying at the University of Glasgow, through the Sanctuary Scholarship, was a transformative experience for me and my family. The scholarship, managed by Jennifer Thomson, provided us with the opportunity to flourish in ways we never thought possible. The fully funded scholarship included excellent accommodation in the city center, offering us a level of stability and quality of life that we hadn’t experienced before. It was the perfect environment for me to focus on my studies, free from the constant worry about our living situation.

At Glasgow, I received exceptional training and had the chance to learn from some amazing role models, like Professor Matthew Walters, Professor Jesse Dawson, and Dr. Antony Workman. They were incredibly supportive, especially when it came to my final project. I was under immense pressure, facing the prospect of becoming homeless again with my young family, but their encouragement kept me going.

Despite everything, I managed to submit my research project on time, and to my great relief and pride, I received a distinction for it. That moment was a testament to my resilience and the hard work I put in, often working day and night through some of the toughest circumstances. The scholarship not only provided me with a chance to excel academically, but it also gave me the strength to keep moving forward, no matter how difficult life became. It was a defining chapter in our journey.

What are your hopes for the future?

My hopes for the future are focused on creating stability and security for my family. I hope to find a meaningful job that will allow me to support my family, both here in the UK and back in Syria, so that they can live in peace and have a better quality of life. Financial stability is a key part of this, as it will enable me to help my loved ones and ensure they have the support they need.

Equally important is making sure that my children are settled and receive a proper education. I want them to grow up with the opportunities and security that we didn’t have, to pursue their dreams without the burdens of instability or fear.

Are you thinking of returning to Syria?

The thought of returning to Syria is something I try to avoid, even though I miss my father deeply and want to see him again. The trauma we’ve endured, the fear that’s been ingrained in every part of me, makes it incredibly difficult to even think about going back. The memories of all we went through are still fresh, and the idea of starting over in such an uncertain environment feels overwhelming.

While I dream of reuniting with my family, I know that as a Kurd, there’s no guarantee that I would have the opportunity to truly thrive in Syria, given the ongoing risks and challenges. It's not just about physical safety but also about being able to live with dignity and have a future.

Perhaps, in the future, we might find a way to meet my father in a neighboring country, where the situation could be more stable. But the dream of one day being together, living in peace and safety, is something we continue to hold onto. It’s a dream that we both unconsciously and bravely strive to make a reality.

Thank you for sharing your story, Ava. May your mother rest in peace and may your hopes and wishes for the future be fulfilled. 

*Note: The name has been changed to protect the privacy and safety of the individual and their family.