Just another night in Swansea took a terrifying turn for me this past Sunday. After finishing my regular journey from Cardiff, I was waiting for a cab near the train station when a group of inebriated men approached. Before I knew it, one pointed directly at me and shouted, “Hey you, stop the boats!” The laughter that followed from his friends was chilling.
In that moment, I was paralysed with fear, wondering if I should speak up, or if they would attack. It felt like an eternity, even though it probably lasted less than a minute. Despite having faced racial abuse before, this was the first time I genuinely feared for my safety—right in the heart of what I’ve come to call home.
I desperately wanted to capture the moment on my phone but was interrupted by a cab pulling up—not mine, as it turned out, but I seized the moment to escape. Though the men had disappeared by the time I regrouped, the lingering fear reminded me of how vulnerable I was.
I’m an immigrant living in Wales. I’ve embraced this country, paid my dues, contributed to the society here, and hoped to leave behind the discriminatory attitudes I faced elsewhere. Yet, political rhetoric filled with divisive terms like “stop the boats” is making it harder to feel welcome and safe.
It’s essential to remember the contributions immigrants make—keeping the gears of critical institutions like the NHS running. A nuanced approach to the immigration debate is crucial, not black-and-white slogans.
My experience reflects that while a few loud voices may try to spread hate, many in Wales showed kindness, offering words of comfort and frustration alongside me. We need to focus on understanding and inclusion to ensure the UK doesn’t become an “island of strangers,” but rather a community enriched by diversity and shared humanity. 🌍❤️