The 1980s was a period of social and political upheaval — especially in London — when the newly-elected Conservative government led by Margaret Thatcher changed immigration policy to control migration into the United Kingdom. Ayisha Uddin discusses the story of Afia Begum who was deported under the new law after her husband’s death, to showcase the rise of South Asian immigrant women in the United Kingdom as a political lobby, fighting for their rights despite institutional racism and misogyny.

[Editor’s Note: This blog is part of the ‘Traces of South Asia‘ project which aims to publicise the archival collections of LSE Library; this post draws on archives of The Women’s Library.]

Britain’s controversial relationship with immigration has been a long-standing issue. Following the end of the Second World War, Britain instituted an open-door policy to support post-war reconstruction in the country. The British Nationality Act 1948 opened the borders, allowing an inflow of people from the Commonwealth to obtain citizenship in return for a strengthened labour force.

However, this all changed between the 1960s-late 1970s. In 1979, when the Thatcher-led Conservative government was elected, they sought to reform citizenship laws by tightening immigration control, disregarding its impact on race relations (Layton-Henry 1986: 73).  When the British Nationality Act 1981 was introduced, it upheld the Thatcherite commitment to tackling the immigration problem by reclassifying citizenship to limit the arrival of immigrants.

Between the 1950s–1970s, Bengali migrants from Sylhet (in Bangladesh) began arriving in Britain. Many began to settle in Tower Hamlets after struggling to find employment elsewhere, establishing a small community for themselves.  With the changes in Immigration Acts in 1981, many began to panic. Out of fear of being separated from loved ones, they began bringing their wives and families, triggering an influx of marriage-related migration from Bangladesh to Britain from the late 1970s–1980s.

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The first generation of Bengali women who arrived in Britain faced multiple barriers to assimilating into British society. Their absence of independence was an important issue, and the racism and discrimination that they faced did not help the situation, rather it created greater hindrances to their social mobility.

As Britain witnessed a new wave of female liberation movements in the 1980s, this socio-political churning did not miss the Asian community. Many South Asian women also began to unite in solidarity to express their dissatisfaction with their quality of life in Britain. For these women, the print media became a vital tool for their activism, allowing them to establish a public presence.

In 1983, Mukti, one of the first multilingual South Asian women’s liberation magazines, was founded in London. The magazine was a culturally sensitive and politically informed platform in the hope that it would benefit its readers. The first edition was particularly attentive to the political climate; with changes to citizenship laws, the magazine’s writers used the opportunity to educate as many women as possible (Sevak, Mukti, Jun-Aug 1983: 7). Magazines like Mukti created a community for women who did not have the correct support. It provided a safe space for discussions, and for readers to receive guidance and support without prejudice or judgement. The magazine also published stories of women from the community with others.

The story of 19-year-old Afia Begum is one of many such stories. Afia was a Bangladeshi housewife, married to Abdul Hamid, a Bengali migrant from Brick Lane in East London. After his tragic death in a slum tenement fire, Afia’s grant to stay in the UK was repealed as, according to the UK Home Office, she was no longer considered a legal spouse; Accordingly, she and her baby Asma were deported to Bangladesh in 1982 (Sevak, ibid.).  At the time, the Home Office determined citizenship rights available to female immigrants by their marital status and not individual circumstances, leaving these women disadvantaged and disenfranchised.

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Afia’s story appealed to a large audience of immigrant women who could easily sympathise with her. She caught the attention of the ‘Sari Squad’ in particular, a South Asian Women’s Liberation group in Brick Lane. Touched by Afia’s story, the five founding members — Ghazala, Nazli, Pam, Nigel, and Putul — began a tireless campaign in November 1982 against the UK Home Office’s unconstitutional deportation of Afia Begum.

The Squad founded the Afia Begum Centre in Brick Lane, which became the main hub of their campaign.  They worked alongside the East London Workers Against Racism to campaign against the Home Office’s callous treatment of Afia and Asma. The campaign connected with a large body of sympathisers from the Asian and Black communities in London who had been unfairly targeted by institutional and societal racism in Britain. Their work challenged the actions of the Home Office. It was an open message that Asian women could no longer be intimidated or coerced into silence.

In August 1983, the Squad upped their campaign, tying themselves to the railings outside the home of Leon Brittan, the then Home Secretary. As expected, the women were arrested and taken to Rochester Row Police Station (in London SW1, closed in 1993), where they were subjected to a series of strip searches while male officers jeered.  The hostility that these women faced was a manifestation of a racial hierarchy and resentment that had been brewing in Britain. Arguably, there was an inherent inability among the officers to empathise or to understand their cause and its importance for the immigrant communities in Britain; without doubt, misogyny and racial prejudice informed the treatment of the Squad by the officers.

The discrimination did not stop there. While on trial, the women were targeted with overt racist abuse from the jury, and with the age-old taunt: ‘Go back to your own country if you don’t like the laws of the land’ (‘Join the Sari Squad’, Spare Rib, 1983: 11). The women had two choices: to use their voice and face the consequences or to remain quiet and ‘keep the peace.’ Either way, neither they nor their campaign was valued.

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Societal structures had allowed people to remain ignorant of the implications of perpetuating socio-racial hierarchies, which left people powerless. But these women were making noise and standing against the status quo, inviting an unwanted change. Institutions had to work harder to hold them back, and thus, as expected, the women were treated unjustly once again. The judge concluded the trial by fining the Squad £1000 (‘Asian Women Bound Over’, The Times, London, 17 August 1983).

Although this was a step backward for their campaign, the women did not accept defeat. The Sari Squad worked alongside the Labour Party and took Afia’s case to the European Court of Human Rights in 1984. The deportation of Afia Begum was effectively ruled unconstitutional, and the court suggested a racist and misogynist malaise in Britain’s governmental institutions and immigration policies.

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Through their determination and hard work, the Sari Squad raised awareness of the unjust treatment of Afia Begum while simultaneously exposing the unethical practices of the UK Home Office. The sari-clad Asian women from Brick Lane definitely shook the racial, cultural and sexist bias of British institutions regarding South Asian women. They set a precedent for future cases and will always be remembered for defying cultural norms and expectations to fight for the rights of immigrant women in Britain.

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Banner image © Nik, ‘Brick Lane’, 2020, Unsplash.

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