Beyond Survival: The Fight for Education Among Refugees in the UK

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  Nasima Karimi, 2025

Many young  refugees in the UK struggle to access one of their most basic rights: education. As we all know, education is a key to success. Refugees are not just seeking safety—they’re seeking opportunity. They want that key to a better future. Many risk their lives taking dangerous routes, crossing jungles, deserts, and oceans with no guarantee of survival. Yet they go on. They break through every barrier with courage and hope, driven by a deep desire to learn, to grow, and to rebuild what was taken from them.

Take the story of Sima (name changed for privacy). She was legally relocated to the UK after her life was placed in danger in Afghanistan. When the Taliban returned to power, women were erased from public life. Schools and universities were shut down for girls and women, stripping them of even their most basic rights. For Sima, there was no life left to live under that regime.

Before the Taliban takeover, Sima was pursuing a Master’s degree. She was just one semester away from graduating. When she arrived in the UK, she carried not only the trauma of war and loss but also the hope that she could start again. She dreamed of finishing her education and using her knowledge to contribute meaningfully to her new community.

In her first four months in the UK, she searched tirelessly for an English course that matched her level—but couldn’t find one. The only option available was an ESOL Level 2 course at a local college, which felt far too basic. She felt like she was wasting time. What she really needed was an IELTS course to help her meet university admission requirements, but none were available at that time.

While studying, she began applying for jobs—hundreds of them. She was never shortlisted, not even for assistant-level roles. Each time she opened an email starting with “Unfortunately...,” she knew it meant yet another rejection. Her previous education wasn't fully recognised in the UK. Her Master’s degree was downgraded to the equivalent of a UK bachelor’s—despite others with the same credentials entering UK PhD programmes.

Over time, the rejection, isolation, and financial instability took a toll on her mental health. She applied to a university and was offered a place, but her scholarship application was denied. Four years have now passed. Every year, she defers her place, still holding out hope for funding. A student loan isn’t an option—she has rent to pay, bills to manage, and caring responsibilities at home.

Throughout her journey, she has encountered numerous NGOs and charities. Many came, wrote reports, and left. Few provided meaningful or lasting support. She remains in limbo—not because she lacks the will or the talent, but because the system has made it nearly impossible to rebuild.

Sima’s story is not unique—it reflects the experience of many refugees in the UK who arrive with dreams, qualifications, and resilience, but are met with barriers instead of bridges. While policies promise integration and support, the reality on the ground often tells a different story. Refugees are left navigating complex systems alone, with their prior education unrecognised, support patchy, and opportunities out of reach.

If we truly believe that education is a right—not a privilege—then we must ensure that refugees can access it without unnecessary delay or discouragement. That means funding scholarships, recognising international qualifications fairly, expanding language and IELTS programs, and offering real, sustained support beyond reports and statistics. Refugees like Sima don’t just want handouts—they want a fair chance to learn, work, and contribute. It’s time we make that possible.