'I can't believe I had to prove I'm British'

Christina never expected to have to prove she was British.

Lost documents meant her father Caleb, a Rhodesia-born scientist who moved to the UK in 1970, had to go through a long battle before he was granted permission to stay.

With that in place, the 27-year-old, who was born in what was by then Zimbabwe and moved to Manchester as a child, never expected to have any issues of her own.

But everything changed when suddenly, a year into her time at university, she was told there was an "immigration issue" with her funding.

It was the start of years of humiliating legal wrangles.

Caleb, like hundreds of thousands of Commonwealth citizens who arrived in the UK between 1948 and 1973, was a member of the Windrush generation.

The 1971 Immigration Act gave Caleb the right to stay in the UK, but his immigration records - along with thousands of others - were lost in what would later become known as the Windrush scandal.

"The Home Office had evidence that he was a British citizen, he had a case number, but they said 'because we've destroyed your file, your citizenship has been revoked'," Christina said.

After a lengthy and traumatic legal fight, during which Caleb could not work, her father was finally granted his right to remain.

But for Christina, who now lives in Salford, her problems had just begun.

She said: "I went to school and college in Manchester and I applied for university with hope. I was on a pathway to doing something quite similar to my dad as we both love health and science."

Christina secured a place at the University of Central Lancashire but after a year of studying she was informed there was an "immigration issue" and that, as she was not a British citizen, the government funding had not been made available for her course.

She said: "The university called me in, they told me 'Christina, the government has not funded you for the course, you'll have to defer'.

"I just remember telling my dad. I could feel his disappointment. He felt like he had failed me even though it was not his fault."

It was five years before her immigration status was eventually confirmed during which she lived with the threat of deportation - something she said had led to lasting mental health problems.

"I have PTSD, I find it difficult to ask for help, I have anxiety and difficulties sleeping," she said.

Her older sister, Claire, was also impacted and said she "lost her prime years" as a result and could not study or work for more than 10 years.

"Words cannot describe how traumatic this is for me," she said.

"I constantly have to reassure myself and struggle with trusting people."

Christina and Claire's experience was one Shane Smith understands.

Born in Trinidad and Tobago to a British mother, the 45-year-old moved to Liverpool when he was just three months old and always believed he was British.

But in 2014, he applied for a passport to go on a family holiday and received a very unexpected response.

"They sent me a letter back saying I couldn't have one because I wasn't a British citizen, which I found shocking because I've lived here all my life," he said.

The unsuccessful application triggered a devastating series of events for the bricklayer and welder.

He said: "Not long after that I was called into the office at work and they said 'you've got an immigration issue'.

"I tried to explain but they said they were going to have to terminate my contract there and then, because they're getting threatened with a fine.

"I didn't know what to do. I went to five different solicitors but none of them had a clue what was going on."

Due to his changed immigration status Mr Smith was also unable to claim many benefits.

"The only thing I could claim was job seekers allowance, which was £55 a week at the time. I ended up homeless," he said.

"It was lonely. There were many times I wanted to give up."

Mr Smith had to provide evidence of his schooling, employment, housing and medical history as he fought to stay in Liverpool.

"It got sorted in 2019 but I still live in fear. I mean how do I know that they won't change their mind?," he said.

Immigration rules before 1983 meant Mr Smith's nationality was tied to his place of birth and the nationality of his father, who was Trinidadian.

The legal grey area around his status at birth meant Mr Smith was vulnerable to the Home Office's "hostile environment" immigration policies introduced in 2012.

Both Christina and Shane are pursuing compensation following their ordeals.

The latest Home Office data shows that since 2019 the Windrush compensation scheme has paid out more than £100m from about 3,000 claims.

But the scheme continues to be heavily criticised for processing delays, low offers and unfair rejections.

Christina's father, for example, was offered just £400.

Senior lawyer Clare Fletcher, who has represented Mr Smith through a free law clinic at Liverpool John Moores University, said the scheme was "not fit for purpose".

"These forms are really difficult to navigate as a lawyer, so for a lay person I can see how it would be quite terrifying," she added.

Nicola Burgess, an immigration specialist who represented Christina, said: "We've been working to build up a picture to show the Home Office exactly how every aspect of Christina's life has been impacted.

"Unfortunately what we see in day-to-day practice is very poor decision making and the Home Office not being prepared to accept an individual's account when there is no supporting evidence."

The Home Office said those affected would "receive the compensation they rightly deserve" and the Home Secretary was ensuring "cultural change is embedded permanently" in the department.

Christina remains defiant and is now focused on the future.

She said: "I've not stopped wanting to succeed, as much as this is a difficult situation and most people would see themselves as a victim, I choose not to."

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