Laser's story

Laser* had to leave her family home after suffering honour-based violence. Like the majority of homeless women in Britain, she avoided rough sleeping at all costs, and resorted to sofa-surfing before she was referred to St Mungo’s.

I suffered honour-based violence, and left because I couldn’t deal with it. I don’t think anyone deserves to deal with that. I found myself on my best friend’s floor, lying on a blowup mattress thinking, “What am I going to do?”.

I never had to sleep rough thank goodness, it’s quite scary to be in the situation of even thinking of doing that. I have really supportive friends who understood what I’d been going through at home, so when I made the decision to leave they supported it.

If anything, the decision to couch surf came from them. I said “What am I going to do now?” and they’d say, “What do you mean? You’re going to sleep exactly where you’re sitting. And if you can’t come to my house you’ll go to so-and-so’s house.”

So for about two months, four or five different friends let me couch surf. But they have kids, so I couldn’t stay long. Which is how I found myself in a Hackney service centre, sitting with all my bags and again wondering what I was going to do.

That’s when Michelle Chapman walked in. I’m a proud Muslim, and I couldn’t believe it when this Scottish person greeted me with, “Saalam alaikum”. I said, “What did you say?!” It turned out that Michelle was Muslim too.

Michelle introduced themself as being from St Mungo’s, and I told Michelle that I’d turned up to the service to present myself as homeless and that they’d told me to come back the next day, but I had nowhere to go. Without hesitation Michelle said, “Let’s get you sorted”. I’d never met this person before in my life, and they fought for me like they’d known me from birth.

We didn’t leave that place until I got a set of keys. They put me in 24-hour accommodation, and then in the accommodation I’m in now.

At first I was scared in the new place because it was mixed-sex. I slept with a knife under my pillow. The only way I could sleep was to call one of my friends and fall asleep on the phone to them, so that when I woke up I could just say, “Hey, are you up?” My friends are great people.

Often I would try to get things sorted on my own, and end up calling Michelle because I was being dismissed. Michelle would call them – sorted. I’m five foot nothing and my voice doesn’t have much grit, I have PTSD (which was undiagnosed at the time), severe depression and anxiety so I can’t really speak as loudly or as quickly as I want to. Michelle fought for me.

"I’d never met this person before in my life, and they fought for me like they’d known me from birth."

Laser

Domestic violence of any kind leaves you with guilt, as if it’s your fault. But it isn’t. Even if you have done something wrong it should not equal that behaviour, and the only reason you feel guilt is because you would never do that to somebody else, so you automatically think you must deserve what’s happened. But you don’t.

Now, that guilt and shame has grown to acceptance. No one can inflict pain on me because they have something going on with them. That lesson came from Michelle, although they insist they just brought it out of me.

In a few weeks, I’m starting a new job in a hotel in Shoreditch, doing reception and admin work. I can say without Michelle I have no idea where I’d be. Michelle never closed the door, and I always knew they’d pick up the phone. I know Michelle would now if I called.

Laser's story

Laser's story

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