That just as it has always been possible to look away, it is always possible to stop looking away1

I have managed therapeutic and torture rehabilitation services for refugees and people seeking protection for 22 years. Alongside people鈥檚 histories of persecution and conflict, difficult journeys and long waits for resettlement or asylum, refugees are facing mounting racism and hostility. I turn off the news, not because I am looking away, I鈥檓 trying to do the opposite; I turn it off because the narrative and language used is misinformed and shameful. The language in public debate can be deeply troubling, and care is needed that my anger doesn鈥檛 seep into therapeutic work.

Recently colleagues have shared that newly resettled Afghan families fleeing the Taliban arrived at their accommodation after long flights and were greeted by small groups of angry people filming them and demanding to know where they were from.

The impact of this hostility on refugee鈥檚 mental health is witnessed daily by our therapeutic teams, and for those staff and interpreters of colour, many with lived experience, the personal impact of bearing witness is felt profoundly. As an ally, I strive to support refugees to process the past if they feel safe to do so, balancing this with conversations about the risks, stresses and dangers of this new place they have arrived to. Families have multiple questions about the context they find themselves in, and many do not feel safe. Refugee clients who arrived many years ago are re-contacting our therapeutic team, as they now wonder if they will be sent back despite having indefinite leave to remain. Those hard fought for feelings of security are being torn from them, as they see a change in how people respond to them as they move about a city that had felt relatively safe.

Of course, there are many welcoming and supportive people, communities and organisations, but the dominant public narrative can still leave many refugees feeling unwelcome and uncertain about their safety and their place here.

And yet therapists do witness resilience being built and recovery from trauma, with connections built in the therapeutic triad that allows space for refugees to ask questions about what is happening in the UK now, and what that means for them. We must engage in conversations with our refugee clients about the current context and stand in solidarity with them. It can be challenging to feel you are helping sometimes, when the past and present are so difficult, but honest dialogue and naming our commitment to people exercising their human right to seek asylum has never been more important.

Every small act of resistance trains the muscle to do it, in much the same way that turning one鈥檚 eyes from the horror strengthens that particular muscle, readies it to ignore even greater horror to come.1