In 2022, the government opened up the Health and Care Worker visa, a type of Skilled Worker visa, to ‘care workers’. This allowed care companies to apply for a license to sponsor workers. If successful, which many companies were (with very little investigation), the government handed companies Certificates of Sponsorship (COS) that they then could hand on to workers. There are several common themes that consistently show up in the experiences of migrant care workers. Their journey often starts with employers charging workers extortionate sums for their COS. Those who have the means sold their homes, cars and businesses, and/or borrowed huge sums from their communities to pay these fees. Employers found an untapped source of revenue with the visa, particularly as the last fifteen years of austerity has made it harder for a small scale care company to be consistently profitable.

As you will see in this collection of stories, workers often feel scammed by companies promising prosperous lives in Britain, but the companies often do not have the work to give them. The majority of migrant workers were funnelled into domiciliary care. Domiciliary care workers travel from house to house, often with short visits of thirty minutes to an hour. They follow set plans through apps, often doing personal care, preparing food, and doing cleaning. Their work is tendered out, sometimes on a person by person basis, by local authorities who seemingly have not coordinated on this matter at all with national government. The government handed out plenty of COSs to companies that then were failing to acquire jobs from the local authorities.

As a result, we see another common theme: terrible working conditions. Illegally low pay, breaking of contracts, being unable to take holiday, bullying, and abuse are all commonplace. This is further facilitated by the fact that the worker is effectively tied to their employer through their visa. The employer has the ability to end employment, giving workers sixty days to find another sponsor or they have to return to their country of origin. Should workers complain about their employer to regulators, the result could be that the license is revoked and again, the visa could be cancelled as a result.

The government has now closed the scheme to newcomers. Despite an estimated extra 430,000 adult social care posts being required by 2035 in England alone to keep up with demand, the government has caved to anti-immigrant rhetoric. For existing migrants, the new proposals will also increase the time it takes to get Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR), from five years to ten years. This doubles the time care workers have to stay in this role before they can find other work.

As you can imagine, employers and the state use this visa to instill a fear of organising or speaking up in workers. But organising is happening nonetheless. Here are stories from just a few of the workers on the frontline.

- Lydia Hughes

My Journey as a Migrant Care Worker in Britain

Amandla

I came to the UK from Africa after hearing that there was a shortage of care workers. I had been working hard back home, but it felt like no matter what I did, I could not make enough to support my family the way I wanted to. When I heard that the UK was actively recruiting carers, I saw an opportunity - not just for myself, but for a better future for my sons. It felt like a door was opening, and I was determined to walk through it.

Getting to the UK was not easy. The costs were high. I had to raise money for my visa, TB test, and IELTS language exam, all of which were required before I could even be considered. Then came the biggest cost: the airline ticket. It took everything I had and then some. But I told myself it would be worth it. I believed I was walking into a system where my work would be valued, where I could grow, and where I would finally be able to lift my family out of struggle.

However, from the moment I arrived and started working for the care company that had recruited me, I realised something was wrong. On paper, the company appeared legitimate. They promised a fair salary and full-time hours. But the reality was very different. They began deducting money from my pay for training that I had already done, or that was delivered poorly. Worse, although they paid me the minimum salary required by law on paper, I was expected to give back what they calculated as “excess.” It felt like wage theft dressed up as bureaucracy. I was terrified. I had just arrived in a new country, on a visa that tied me to this employer. I felt trapped.

A typical day for me was gruelling. I would leave the house at 5:20 am and often not return until 11:00 pm at night. But, I was only paid for around 8 hours, and none of the travel time or breaks between clients counted. These days, my schedule has changed slightly: I leave at around 5:45 am and return home at 2:35 pm, but I still only get paid for about 4 hours on average. The system is broken, and we are the ones bearing the cost of that. The emotional toll is difficult to explain. You arrive here hopeful, ready to work hard, and instead, you find yourself in a kind of modern-day exploitation. But I carried on, mostly because I had no choice. And because there are people depending on me.

I have two sons back home in Africa. My older son lost his job, and he’s now caring for his younger brother, who has bipolar disorder. It’s hard enough being a mother when you’re near your children, but being so far away, knowing that one child is struggling to find work while also trying to manage his brother’s mental health, is heartbreaking. I have had to step in to support them both financially and emotionally, despite my own situation here. I miss them terribly.

Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking about all the ways I am stretched. Between continents, between responsibilities, between exhaustion and hope. But I keep going, because that’s what mothers do. Outside of work, I try to find moments that remind me of who I am. I go to church when I can, and that helps me stay grounded. My faith gives me strength, especially on days when everything feels heavy.

More recently, I’ve found community in a new and powerful way - through the union! My comrades have become more than just fellow organisers; they’ve become family. For the first time since arriving in the UK, I’ve started to feel like I belong somewhere. Not just as a worker, but as a human being with a voice that matters. I wasn’t political before I came here. I never saw myself as an activist. But when I saw what was happening - not just to me, but to so many others - I knew I couldn’t stay silent. The fear was real. I was on a visa tied to my employer, and any noise I made could cost me everything. But silence was costing me my health, my dignity, and my freedom too.

So I began talking to others. Quiet conversations at first, just checking if people were experiencing the same things. They were. The same dodgy deductions, the same fear, the same long hours with little pay. Slowly, we began to organise. We supported each other. We reached out to unions and community groups. We began to understand our rights. Overcoming fear didn’t happen overnight. But every time one of us spoke up, it made it easier for the next person. We began showing up for each other in meetings, in complaints, and in campaigns. We began to believe that we deserved better.

I first came across the Pan-African Workers Association (PAWA) through a link shared with me by a friend from South Africa who had also come here to do care work. I joined the WhatsApp group and, at first, I just followed from a distance. But as I kept reading, I started noticing a pattern in the posts from other care workers. Their struggles and frustrations were the same as mine. That gave me a sense of connection and made me realise I wasn’t alone. Eventually, I reached out to the general secretary, without even knowing who he was at the time! He spoke to me about getting numbers at work, though I didn’t really understand what he meant back then. But when their Activist Development Programme (ADP) training came around, I immediately signed up. That was a turning point for me.

The training gave me the tools and the confidence to start having proper conversations with my colleagues about our rights. So when management tried to introduce new contract changes, I knew I couldn’t just keep quiet. I started talking to colleagues one by one, explaining what the changes would mean and encouraging them not to sign straight away. We spoke during breaks, after shifts, and sometimes even over the phone. At first, many were hesitant, but the more I shared what I’d learnt through PAWA and the ADP, the more people began to see that we had strength in numbers. What felt overwhelming before started to feel possible once we were organising together.

There are so many barriers to care workers joining unions in Britain. The biggest one is fear. Fear of losing your job, your visa, your home. Many of us are migrants, and we are made to feel disposable. Language is another barrier. So is isolation, with many carers working alone, in private homes or in the community, and never even seeing their colleagues. There’s no break room, no space to chat or connect. Then there is the employer pressure. Some companies lie to workers and tell them they’re not allowed to join unions. Others threaten people outright. It’s an atmosphere of control and intimidation. But even with all these barriers, we are pushing back. We are forming networks, building solidarity, and raising our voices. Every time a carer joins the union, it’s a victory. Every time someone speaks up, the fear loses some of its power.

What keeps me going is knowing that we are not alone. Across the UK, care workers - especially migrant women like me - are standing up and saying “enough.” We are tired of being exploited. We are tired of being silenced. We are essential, and we deserve dignity!

I still dream of bringing my children here one day, of building a life where I don’t have to choose between survival and safety. But more than anything, I want to help create a care sector that is fair. Not just for me, but for all of us. Because care work is vital work, and we, the workers, are vital too.

The Struggle: For Hours and For Pay

Emily

I am a female care worker who came to the UK through the skilled worker visa. I arrived in the UK in July 2023, and on arrival, I discovered that my sponsor did not have enough hours for me. At some point, I would work only 3 hours a week instead of the 40 hours stated in my contract. I started looking to switch employers, and in November 2023, I was offered a job with a new company. In my first week of employment, I realised that there was different treatment between the immigrant workers and the British workers, such as a different pay rate, even though we were doing the same job.

Immigrant workers were the only ones working for clients who were out of town, meaning long, unpaid driving distances. Immigrants were also not guaranteed days off, which saw most of us working for 10 or more days with no time off. We were always told that we had to work to meet the Home Office’s agreed hours on our visa. It was difficult to work 40 hours a week as we spent most of the time travelling between clients, which didn’t count as work time. That was the most difficult time of my life. As a mother of three, with my second and last born being four and three years old, I never had time with them. I would leave my house at 6 am every day and get back at 10:30 pm at night. I was always tired from driving too much. I remember checking and realising that every day I was driving at least 128 miles (and that would be on a less busy day).

When I joined the new care company, I worked with other colleagues who had been with the company for over seven years. They were complaining about how the company was getting worse in the way it treats its workers. If I was involved with the union, then as I am now, that would have been the right time to start organising. Instead, I did not pay attention to their complaints. I told myself I would not stay with the company for long. However, when those colleagues left, I found myself on the receiving end of the same treatment they had been.

Most of the colleagues who were hired at the same time as me were also going through the same struggle, but we never discussed how we could come together to solve the problems. Everybody was busy trying to find a way to sort out their own problems individually. The manager took advantage of this, and she started making life easier for the workers who were complaining a lot about the rota. She would make sure that their rota is done in a way that is bearable and leave everyone else’s rota unbearable, with long drives between calls and long days of continuous working without time off.

We were all working for more than seven or ten days without taking a day off, and we were all driving long distances and not being paid for driving time. We also found out that all of us on the skilled worker visa had been made to sign a document saying we would have to repay the sponsorship fee if we did not stay with the company for the period that we were being sponsored for. This was two years ago, and some of the colleagues who left before that period lapsed had money deducted from their salaries as ‘loan repayment’. We also realised that even some of our colleagues who were still with the company were made to pay that fee monthly. These were common struggles that we were all going through, and so we thought it would be easy for us to organise and find a way to engage the boss. But, we had no idea how to do that because we were not part of a union. There was no one teaching us our rights or how to organise and build power to challenge the bosses.

I spoke to my colleagues one by one as we used to work together on doubles. Every time I was paired with a different colleague, I would find out if they were happy with the way we were working. It turned out that all of us were unhappy, but we felt that we didn’t have any other options. We were all told that the only thing keeping us in the country was the sponsorship the company provided. I realised each one of us had individually tried speaking to management regarding the long shifts and our off-time, but we were threatened that our Certificate of Sponsorship (COS) would be revoked. I had spoken to a certain colleague who had mentioned PAWA and IWW, and he had asked IWW representatives to come down to Norwich to meet with us.

I followed up with everyone and told them about the meeting and how important it was for all of us to attend, so we can find a way out of our predicament. I remember telling my colleagues that “we are the change we want to see, we can’t sit at the back and expect other people to make changes that will impact our work positively”. Everyone was keen on meeting the IWW representatives because we were all tired and feeling trapped with no way out. To be honest, it felt like slavery, as we needed the COS to be able to legally work and stay in the UK, but we had no lives outside of our workplace. After getting advice from IWW representatives, we agreed to send a grievance letter to our boss outlining the issues we were unhappy about. We requested a meeting with the boss and gave him a deadline for the meeting date.

When he received the grievance letter, our boss responded by trying to intimidate us and the union representatives. He said he wanted to see the signatures of each person represented, not just our names, so we had to sign and return the letter. He also asked the IWW representative to explain who they are because he had never heard of the organisation. So they also had to send some information through for him to check out who they are. I think from after this, he got scared and wanted to make it right with us, because he then agreed to have a meeting. However, he requested a date much further than our deadline and said he was out of the country so he couldn’t arrange a date within our deadline. He said he will only have a meeting with a current worker at the company. By the time we submitted our grievance letter, three of us had already resigned. I was serving my notice, and my other colleague was on sick leave so he didn’t want to be part of the meeting. Despite having left the company, I also wanted to be heard. I wanted the bosses to know that I was also not happy with the working conditions and it was a way of showing solidarity with my colleagues who were still working there.

The IWW came through as our only lifeline after 12 months of hard labour and manipulation. To me, it was either I grab the lifeline and stand a chance to live better, or let fear take over and drown in mental health. I was close to depression. I left the company not because I found another job, but because I felt that I couldn’t continue anymore. My body was hurting, I was not able to think properly, and most of the time I found myself comfort eating just to get through the day. So the fear of losing my mind was more than the fear of organising. My colleagues were in the same shoes as me, so we all understood that it’s either we speak about it or keep quiet and continue being abused.

At the end of the month, I realised that some workers were paid, but my other two colleagues and I were not. I thought they wanted to wait until I worked my last day and dropped the company car off so they could pay me. The other colleague followed up with them, and she told them she wasn’t able to come to work if she’s not paid, so they paid her. This just left me and the colleague who was on sick leave unpaid. When I finished working on my last day, I went to the office at night, around 10 pm, as they had requested I drop the car off. The following day, I realised that my colleague and I were still not paid. When my colleague requested his salary, the boss told him that if he came back to work, then they would pay his salary. I reached out to the union, and the union sent my boss a letter requesting an explanation as to why I had not been paid yet. The boss responded that he didn’t know what was going on. He said it was the fault of HR, who he had already fired, but he will sort it out, claiming he was still out of the country. The delay went on and on, and they kept on postponing. They were trying to find something to pin on me, to say this is why they haven’t paid me. But they had no evidence for whatever they were accusing me of. The manager called me to say that if I sign a certain agreement, they will pay my money. I told them to go through my union representative regarding my case.

The manager was threatening that she would report me to the Home Office. I still insisted that they communicate through my union rep. The union had to raise funds through a GoFundMe to assist me and my other colleague with our monthly bills because the boss kept on giving excuses regarding our salaries. After a long discussion back-and-forth with the union, they paid our salaries as calculated by the union. They had been trying to deduct the sponsorship fee and not pay my unused holiday entitlement. Because I went through the union, they had no option but to pay. They did not deduct anything for visa sponsorship because the union was involved. So I think when they were trying to call me to negotiate with me directly, they wanted to deduct the money for sponsorship and also not pay for my unused holidays. They paid my last salary two months after I left the company. If I was not involved with the union, I am sure they were never going to pay me my last month’s salary. I am grateful for the support from PAWA and IWW. I have also undergone lots of training with PAWA and IWW to learn more about my rights and how to organise my colleagues in my workplace and stand up for our rights.

The Many Problems We Face

Tambudzai Moyo

I am from Zimbabwe. I came to Britain in January 2024 to work as a carer. I managed to secure employment before I came to Britain. My employer is Zimbabwean, and their family runs the company. Before I arrived, I was promised three months of free accommodation, that I would work 40 hours per week, and that the company would help me buy a vehicle by providing a loan.

Before I moved to Britain, I was employed as a Depot Manager in a government-owned company. I worked for 35 years before I retired at a pensionable age. I was on the Executive Committee of the Union in the workplace. I represented women in the Southern African Region in the Transport Industry for eight years, working with the International Transport Federation (ITF), headquartered in London. Due to currency fluctuations and Government corruption, the meagre pension I was receiving could not sustain me, hence my decision to move to Britain.
When I got to Britain, my employment was secure, but the work environment was not. I stayed in the company accommodation for one month free. After that, I was told to pay rent, contrary to what I was promised. I was forced to buy a car using my own resources, despite some of my relatives being given loans to purchase cars. Prior to buying a car, I trekked from one client to another on foot. It was the rainy season, but I had to soldier on. I started work at 6:00 a.m. and knocked off at 10:00 p.m. The company did not pay us for the travelling time between calls. At times, I was unable to reach 40 hours of paid work time due to mobility issues, which resulted in lower pay. At times, though, I was given less than 40 hours by the company. During the first month of employment, I was not paid for the two weeks that I worked shadowing another worker.

We have many other problems. The rota is not allocated fairly. Once you raise concerns about it, you are punished by being given difficult clients who are very far apart, so employees decide to keep quiet. They call meetings, and employees don’t contribute, fearing victimisation afterwards. Since the company is family-dominated, family members are given more hours and simple runs that are closer to each other.
Our pension contributions are deducted from our pay. Recently, our pension fund wrote to us, saying that our employer is not paying our contributions. The employer quickly issued a notice stating that they had rectified the error. Our employer is connected to government officials back home, and they boast about it. Employees are afraid that once they report the employer to the authorities and the company is forced to close, going back home is not an option because the officials will deal with you when you return. We also sold our properties to raise funds for relocation to Britain, leaving us with little to return to.

The employer does not allow us to find part-time jobs. They refuse to give references upon request. The rota is also tailored in such a way that it’s difficult to pick up extra shifts from other companies. Our company offers extra shifts, but the same people consistently receive them. There is no transparency. We believe that the company produces two different payslips, one for our files with fictitious figures and one with our actual pay. If an audit could be conducted, checking against our own copies, these anomalies could be revealed.
Employees feel that we were not given adequate induction training. Each time a service user complains about the quality of work, they quickly arrange training for us. Since I joined the company in 2024, we have been given two t-shirts as a uniform. These are now worn out. We raised the issue about the image, but we were told to buy a navy blue t-shirt on our own.

Getting annual leave is also problematic. They decide when we should take leave, and mostly it’s only for one week. Most of us could not bring our families with us, and we need at least two weeks to travel home. We haven’t seen our families since we came here. At the end of the year, your leave days are forfeit. Their favourites are paid their outstanding leave days though. Their record-keeping is not good, and we wonder if it’s done purposely. The Certificate of Sponsorship is tied to employers, making it difficult for us to leave such employers.
I joined UNISON to feel more protected at work and got involved in my branch. This connected me to other workers who were feeling the same. I then got involved in the Skilled Visa campaign with UNISON to free us from such unscrupulous employers. I went to meetings with migrants across my region where they voted for me to be on the organising committee, making decisions on our campaign for a fair visa. We want the visa to be flexible.

I have encouraged and empowered colleagues in my workplace, as well as across my region, to get involved. I have sent an email to my MP about this campaign, asking that qualifying for “Indefinite Leave to Remain” be fair and that it stick to the five years of working we were promised to be eligible. I have three years left, but I am now faced with another seven years of suffering because of the changes. Through the campaign, I’ve also met other workers with stories similar to mine. They have had the opportunity to meet MPs to speak about the modern-day slavery we are all facing.

I want fair pay and good conditions in the sector and to be treated with the respect we deserve. When I am happy with my social life and treatment at work, it also cascades down to the service users.

My Story: An Expensive Visa

Dorcas Uyi

I am a care assistant who came into the UK as a skilled worker. Prior to relocating to the UK, I was a member of a trade union in my country and had always been a strong supporter of the union. I was at the forefront as a unionist fighting for better pay and working conditions for myself and my colleagues. Later, with career progression, I was on the other side of the table, where I was negotiating with the union in favour of the government.

My story started when I got a link to relocate to the UK as a skilled worker. It came as exciting news because it’s a dream come true. We started planning and putting money together to achieve the move. We sold our cars, the land we owned, and many other things to raise the £12,000 we needed. After we sold our land and cars in Nigeria to raise the exorbitant amount for the Certificate of Sponsorship, I was able to relocate with my family. But when we got here the story was very different.

After a back and forth with my employer, it dawned on me that we had been scammed. There was no job and we were left alone to sink or swim. Myself and other colleagues from the company were lost and trying to find a way around this. I had to take a step to start job hunting because we had to pay bills and feed our family. I could only do a 20 hour part-time job because of visa restrictions. I started looking for a switch in sponsorship for another year and half. Many were available but for a price. But I couldn’t afford to pay any more money because there was no money left. I kept praying and trusting in God. In February 2025, I finally got a switch to another employer. Just when I thought it was secure, I was told it was for one year only. I was bothered, but I was also relieved just to get a full time job for once.

After joining the domiciliary care company, it was again not what I thought it would be.
I kept complaining to my employers that the driving was too much and the hours between calls not realistic. In order for me to meet their goals for the day, I was driving like a mad woman. On one fateful day, during my appointments, I called the office manager and said that I was feeling sleepy as I was driving. She told me that nothing could be done about it and that I should finish my calls. I kept pushing on with the driving until I had an accident. I called her and said, “I told you I was tired and sleepy but you refused to do anything about it. Now I just had an accident”. She asked if I was hurt, and I said I didn’t know. I was crying badly.

My car was totally damaged and I didn’t have full insurance cover. It was so bad, and I felt so disappointed with the job. The office never cared about my health and before you know it, they wanted me to buy another car, or I wouldn’t get shifts anymore. I was so devastated and kept telling them I didn’t have money to buy another car yet. They didn’t help me. It is so sad how much we work and the pennies we are paid. They pay me 20p per mileage and not up to the minimum wage. We do a lot and yet get so little. With the passion I put into my job, getting fairly paid would be a big motivation for me. Now I am stuck and trying to get another sponsorship that will be about 3-5 years or more.

Another sad thing is that after coming here with the promise of getting Indefinite Leave to Remain after 5 years, now the government is making it difficult for us. What more do they want?! Our families are leaving in fear and our dependents are threatened with no renewal of their visas. We are giving more than what we expect back.

In September 2024, I was told to join a union here. I was told UNISON is one of the largest and could help me switch employers. So I joined UNISON. I received an e-mail from UNISON sometime in March about the fair visa campaign for social care workers. After reading the email I said to myself, this is the platform we need to make our voices heard and a solution to those wicked employers who extort us. I am in support of this campaign and I hope our voices are really heard and our demands are met. I hope that the five years Indefinite Leave to Remain for skilled workers stays as promised. I hope that we get better pay as care workers, and employment/sponsorship is put in the hands of the government.