I want to be part of the movement that secures fair and meaningful legal rights for migrant domestic workers — rights that truly protect and uplift us. I hope to inspire others like me, so together, we can rise, speak as one, and become a powerful force for change. Our voices matter, and united, we can create the impact we’ve long been waiting for.
Biography
My name is Fawzia, and I was born in Nigeria. My earliest memories are filled with hardship, but also with the quiet strength of my mother. When I was just five years old, she made the difficult decision to take me to Benin. My father didn’t have a job, and we were struggling to survive — to find food, to clothe ourselves, to live with even the smallest sense of dignity.
My mother hoped Benin would offer us a better chance. It wasn’t easy, but we tried. Two years after we moved, my mum’s uncle stepped in to help. He paid my school fees and supported me like his own child. Thanks to him, I was able to go to school — and for a while, I felt like maybe life could change.
But when he passed away, everything fell apart again. My mother couldn’t afford to send me to university, no matter how much she wanted to. That was when I truly began to understand how difficult life could be. I was still young, but I had already learned that survival often meant sacrifice. I started working as a domestic worker in Nigeria, and eventually, the family I worked for brought me with them to London.
At first, I was fortunate. My employer was kind. I felt respected, and for the first time in a long while, I believed I might be safe. But when they returned to the USA, I was left behind — alone, with no one to turn to. And that’s when my nightmare began.
My next employer was nothing like the first. They were abusive and heartless. One day, without warning or care, they threw me out of the house. I had nowhere to go. I had nothing. I was terrified. But somehow — through tears, fear, and uncertainty — I survived.
I found The Voice of Domestic Workers (VODW), and through them, I found strength I didn’t know I still had. They helped me stand back up. They listened when I couldn’t speak. They believed in me when I had forgotten how to believe in myself. With their support, I slowly began to heal.
I have so much inside of me — stories I’ve never told, feelings I’ve never shared — but I’m still learning how to open up. There’s a part of me that’s still afraid, still unsure. And that’s why I’m so grateful to be joining the Future Voices Revolution 2025.
I believe this programme will help me grow the courage I’ve been searching for. I want to find my voice — not just for myself, but for all the migrant domestic workers who are still living in fear, silence, or shame. I want to discover who I truly am beneath all the layers of pain and survival. I want to learn, to participate, to belong.
This is the beginning of something new for me — a chance to rise, to be seen, and to step into my truth. I may not be ready to share everything yet, but I am ready to begin.
