Borders crossing bodies : the stories of eight youth with experience of migrating

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POURAN DJAMPOUR

BORDERS CROSSING BODIES

The Stories of Eight Youth

With Experience of Migrating

MALMÖ UNIVERSIT Y HEAL TH AND SOCIET Y DOCT OR AL DISSERT A TION 20 1 8:6 POUR AN DJAMPOUR MALMÖ UNIVERSIT

BORDERS

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BODIES

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Malmö University

Health and Society, Doctoral Dissertation 2018:6

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POURAN DJAMPOUR

BORDERS CROSSING BODIES

Malmö University, 2018

Faculty of Health and Society

The stories of eight youth with experience of migrating

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This publication is also available at http://hdl.handle.net/2043/24776

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ABSTRACT

In public discourse on migration, people who migrate are often portrayed as deviating from the rest of the population. This is especially true for the group categorised as ‘unaccompanied’ children who are portrayed as homogeneous and not seldom with a common history. Such simplifications create a ‘single story’ that reduces people who migrate and their complex lives to stereotypes. This dissertation derives from a willingness to contest this single story through multiple stories by multiple storytellers. This is done by seeking to comprehend what borders do in the lives of eight youth with experience of migrating. The aim is thus to study what borders do and how the participants navigate, experience and challenge those borders at different stages of their lives.

This study is based on ethnography among eight youth, who at some point have been categorised as ‘unaccompanied’ children in Sweden and other countries. The fieldwork was carried out during a period between 2013 and 2017 involving interviews and conversations with the participants. Borders are analysed from a multiperspectival standpoint, which means that borders are seen as practices of both material and symbolic divisions performed by different actors constituting control. Borders not only hinder or stop some while granting passage to others; they also construct people differently. Those who are repeatedly crossed by borders eventually become inhabitants of the borderlands. Influenced by feminist and postcolonial scholarship, this study calls for epistemic plurality by acknowledging different sources of knowledge which are placed in dialogue with the stories of the youth. Aspects of their lives before moving from their homes are considered equally important for their experience of borders as their lives in Europe.

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The central themes of the analysis are time, love, intimacy, hope and resistance. The multiple stories of the participants are contextualised in a broader narrative, where the individual acts and experiences are identified as closely interwoven with collective experiences. Furthermore, the multiplicity of borders is discussed in terms of where and how they are manifested and who they affect. In conclusion, the analysis contributes to deepening the understanding of migration, borders and agencies in the borderlands, and in so doing restores the complexities and humanities of the youth by challenging the single story.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

At some point you have to let a text go, let it live its own life and be interpreted by others. It has now and again been a struggle accepting this since I have realised that the more I learn, the more there is to tell, to analyse and, most importantly, to understand. Even though I have reached the end of this particular study I feel in many ways that I have just got started. I have had the privilege to have many teachers in my life. This work is a product of all the efforts, all the lessons learnt through you: my family, friends, fellow activists, co-travellers, neighbours, comrades and colleagues. All of you have been and continue being my teachers in different ways. This text is without a doubt a collective work, a product that stems from many different sources of magnificent knowledge and viewpoints. However, all errors are mine and mine alone.

First and foremost I would like to thank the protagonists in this thesis for all the time spent with me, for your patience and the knowledge you have shared – without you, no book!

Throughout this study I have had the privilege of being guided by three wonderful and caring supervisors. Carin Björngren Cuadra, there are no words for your ability to support and encourage me! Since the very beginning of my PhD-journey you have listened and engaged in a dialogue with me as equals. Thank you for your tireless support, for your enthusiasm that has made me dare to believe even when I have been unsure of myself, for having analysed together with me and for all the last-second calls and emails! Philip Lalander, your view of the academic world, which you among other things have manifested through your non-hierarchical relation to me, has been of great inspiration! Thank you for always having valued my reflections, for

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having encouraged my ability, for your critical reading of my drafts, for having challenged me and also for having had confidence in me since the very very beginning. Paula Mulinari, you have supported my breath throughout this thesis. Your analytical reading has been so important. Thank you for i.n.s.p.i.r.i.n.g. me, filling me with limitless hope, for making me laugh and showing me that the academic world can be other than a scary place.

I am so very grateful for having had the three of you as my supervisors and I am looking forward to our continued collegial work together.

I have had the privilege of having shared my time as a PhD student with amazing colleagues and friends. Emma Söderman, Vanna Nordling and Maja Sager, thank you! From day one and onwards you have encouraged me with your analytical gaze and allowed me to lean on you. Thank you for all the joint travels, co-writing, co-arranging of events and Vanna & Emma for your readings on my text – you three have e n r i c h e d me. Sepideh Nekomanesh – from kindergarten to academia – who would have thought that our journeys in life would reconnect us? Thank you for all the talks, lunches, shared reflections, joint working days and for having challenged me in my thoughts.

I would like to thank my fellow and former PhD colleagues at the institution of social work at Malmö University, particularly: Torkel Richter, Camilla Larsson, Dawan Raoof, Jakob Tornberg, Magnus Weber, Ida Runge, Martin Kvist, Harald Gegner, Angelica Wågby, Mari Brännvall, Martina Takter, Ylva Grönvall, Per Arvidsson and Zlatana Knezevic. A special thank you to Johanna Sixtensson, for being the biggest support from my very first day at Scylla, always encouraging and with the best advice in regards to managing academia. And another special thank you to Johan Nordling, for all the shared work and lunches together since we started our PhD studies at the same time. Also a big thanks to Lisa Andersson and Charlotta Carlström for your valuable support and care. And thanks to all the above mentioned for inspiration, comments on texts, lunches, kick-off meetings and shared joy over the years.

I have been fortunate to have had so very many inspiring colleagues, among whom the Critical Methodologies PhD group in Lund and Malmö has without a doubt played an enormous role for s u r v i v i n g within academia. I particularly wish to thank Katrine Scott, Marta Kolankiewicz, Emma

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Söderman, Vanna Nordling, Johanna Sixtensson, Eda Farsakoglu and Tove Lundberg for your support and the friendships developed. Looking forward to the continuation…

♥

I have also had some amazing colleagues at the institution and at other universities who have supported me and inspired me in many many ways. Thank you Linda Lill for your support throughout the years and for sharing your valuable insights about how to survive in academia when I needed it the most. Diana Mulinari, you have been with me throughout this whole journey. Thank you for all the ‘fika’, talks, encouragements and support over the years. Marcus Herz, thank you for many inspirational conversations and for backing me in my work. Mon Johansson, thank you for sharing ‘little tricks’ =) and your wisdom and also for all the support you have given me. Thank you Jacob Lind for valuable collaborations, for co-work and for being a generous and supportive colleague. Thank you Majsa Allelin, particularly for our time together during our tailor-made summer course, for our collaboration, for cooking together and for our talks about everyday life. Additionally a big thank you Baharan Kazemi and Maria Bexelius for the lunches, chitchat, shared reflections and support. Also, a special thank you to Anders Neergaard, Marta Kolankiewicz, Catrine Andersson, Paula Aracena, Norma Montesino, Enrique Perez, Martina Campart Cano, Anna Lundgren and Johanna Schiratzki for all the support and cooperation. A warm thank you to Ali Hajighasemi and Per Carlson at Södertörn University for welcoming me at the School of Social Sciences and thus inviting me to a scholarly context in Stockholm during the spring semester of 2016.

Thank you to Shahram Khosravi, Catrine Andersson, Nils Hammarén and Vanna Nordling for your valuable insights and comments on my text at different seminars. Your critical reading, guidance and valuable creativity have been crucial in moving this thesis forwards. Particularly thank you to Shahram and Catrine for your comments on my final seminar, which made me rethink the text through your useful feedback and suggestions. Also thank you to all of you who have attended these seminars and commented on my text at different stages. And thank you Katarina Graah-Hagelbäck for the language review of the text.

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There have been a couple of organisations, institutions and movements that have played a crucial role before and during the time of my PhD studies: I would like to thank my friends in Asylgruppen and Asylstafetten for the daily struggles and community-building. Thank you Alireza, Masa, Lina, Abbas, Maram, Ali Reza, Julli, Ahmed, Saba, Hanad, Tove, Ylva, Aida, Hossein, Emma, Yasin, Rûnbîr, Maria, Masoud, Parvaneh, Andrea, Sofi, Leo, Ezad, Vanna, Lina, Paula, Bagher, Maria, Ali, Ulrika, Elinor and many more. I want to mention the amazing work of Interfem, where I have learnt how to combine the feminist and antiracist struggle, and I would particularly like to thank Birgitta, Lydia, Kristin, Fatuma, Sandra, Marta, Aina, Emilia, Andrea, Maxime, Berolin, Zakia and many more.

The brilliant antiracist magazine Mana has been a valuable source of critical reflection and dialogue. Thank you Sarah, Maja, Emma, Sara, Zlatana, Elina, Florencia, Paula, Matilda, Nazem and many more.

The work of Antirasistiska akademin has been of great inspiration and given me a valuable academic context. Thank you Robert, Marta, Emma, Maria, Maja and all the board members.

I have on two occasions participated in REMESO’s PhD courses at Linköping University where I have had the honour to exchange ideas and collegial bonds with fellow PhD students and scholars from many different universities. I would like to thank my fellow students, and the teachers at the institution, for organising such an important platform within migration studies.

Lastly also a huge thank you for all the work, inspiration and friends from Smålands nation in Lund and Ett enat Malmö.

I would like to thank all my friends who have been with me before and during this entire time. A special thanks to Ulrika, Birgitta, Sandra, Sara, Michaela, Maria, Emma, Xantippa, Gina, Bengi, Gosia, Stephanie, Martin, Calle, David, Masoud, Alisa, Andrea, Tove, Ulrika, Paula, Bella, Christos, Ava, Amanda, Rahel, Sofie, Nahomi, Luwam, Rahwa, Carl and Khali. I am so very very fortunate to have and be surrounded by my extended family. Thank you for all the love you give me, for believing in me, even when I have lost faith in myself and for all the unconditional backing and love throughout the years – Björn, Genet, Kristin, Lisa, Lydia, Malin, Rasha, Ruth, Sarah, Selam and Sepideh – all of you inspire me and make me a better person ♥ ♥ ♥ And of course, Ibou, thank you for having put up with me during these last months, and for your endless support and love. I am looking forward to spending more

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time with each and every one of you now that this thesis has come to an end. Thank you universe for bringing all these people into my life!

Also a B I G thank you to Sarah Katarina Hirani, my dear friend and tweet, for the beautiful cover artwork and the illustrations in the thesis!

Lastly, I would like to thank my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents for their endless support and love. I am so fortunate to have all of you in my life. Sasan and Arian, I can’t even begin to express how much you mean to me… Meme azizam, thank you for teaching me about the connection between the spiritual and the political. You are part of my footsteps! And Gippy, thank you for connecting me even more to nature and to my roots! Babak, my dear brother and best friend. You have been there since day one, always supportive and loving. I am truly blessed to share this lifetime with you! And finally the biggest thank you to my mother and father to whom this book is dedicated. Zari and Feri, you have given me the best of yourselves and taught me how to believe in life. I am looking forward to continuing to share this and more lifetimes with you.

مادر،پدر،خواهر و برادر عزیز من ،بی نهایت دوستتون دارم

Malmö/Stockholm, April 2018

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Vignette ●

Malmö, early morning, 2014. It is the second Tuesday in January and it is the day when the money transfer to Iran will be made. Sadegh only needs to collect the last amount of money before going to the money transfer office. Maria, one of Sadegh’s close friends, is waiting to make a withdrawal from the cash machine just a block away from my apartment. The money she is about to hand over has been collected through a small fundraising organised on social media. Sadegh and I leave the apartment after a long breakfast. While walking down the stairs we talk about his view of life in Sweden, now that he has lived in the country for a while. He says that when he was living undocumented he used to think that the vexing feeling inside him would disappear as soon as he got his residency. But this has not been the case.

“I’m often worried and think about a lot of difficult stuff. Like now, what’s going to happen to my brother?” he says right before we reach the last steps of the staircase.

His brother has for the second time arrived in Istanbul from Teheran and is now held captive by the smugglers. The bid is that the smugglers will continue their work of taking him to Greece if he can arrange the money they ask for. As we come out of the main entrance of the apartment building the morning pulse of the city fills us with energy. The few people that we see on our way to the cash machine are all walking with firm steps towards their destinations. While we approach the other side of the street, where Maria is waving at us, some people exit from the pharmacy. It is the only business visible on this calm side of an otherwise lively street filled with sounds of buses and cars. Maria is in a bit of a hurry. After having exchanged a few words with us, she withdraws the remaining money from the cash machine, hands it over to Sadegh and gives each of us a goodbye hug before she runs off. Sadegh takes out a bundle of bills and adds the money Maria has handed over to the amount he has collected from other friends. He now has the amount that will be forwarded by his family to the smugglers. We start making our way to the shop where the money transaction is to be made.

“Had I known that my brother would come here, I would never have spent my money on driving lessons. When dad called and said that he was in Turkey I was thrown.”

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“No, he went with his friend. Dad says that it was the friend that influenced him,” Sadegh replies.

The first time that Sadegh’s brother left Iran he had not told anyone either. That time Sadegh had just bought a very expensive bicycle and was again completely broke. As far as I know, this is the third time Sadegh’s family have had to sell their belongings in order to save their children on their trip to Europe. The first time had been when Sadegh himself had left Iran and had ended up with no money in the hands of the smugglers in Turkey. This was three years prior to this day. And now his brother was attempting to come to Europe for the second time.

Sadegh is anxious, which can be seen in his determined walk. He is leading the way, walking half a step ahead of me. As I notice his hurried footsteps I speed up to catch up with him. This, however, results in him moving even faster, which makes both of us walk faster and faster for each of these catching-up moves I manage to make. His eagerness is contagious and I find myself feeling excited at the sight of the small shop. Sadegh leads the way to the entrance and then steps into the shop. But as soon as we enter, there is a change in his behaviour and he seems to run out of steam. He places himself directly at the entrance of the shop and starts fumbling with his fingers on the zip of his jacket. When looking out over the shop, one can see three counters, or cubicles, on the side opposite to the entrance, which makes the place similar to customary money exchange offices. A glass wall separates the person working on the other side of the glass from the customers. Opening up from the left side of one of the counters, a passage leads to a cash desk located in the centre of the small shop. Packets of dried fruit and berries, nuts, different sweets and cigarettes fill the space around the cash desk. The door to the shop is wide open and one can hear the cars and the pedestrians passing by outside. Mostly Farsi-speaking customers enter the shop – some exchanging standard curtesy lines before making a purchase, others staying a bit longer, having a conversation with the cashier. In the corner to the right of the entrance, there is a person sitting at a desk that reads Travel agency. This small shop contains three businesses, from what I can see. I am still caught up in the speed of the walk and the eagerness which until now has accompanied our footsteps, and, before I even notice the shift in Sadegh’s behaviour, I ask him how this is done. Sadegh replies that he is unsure and lets his eyes wander around in the shop.

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“You’ve done this before or what?” I ask, still speeded in my thoughts as well as my bodily motion. Sadegh continues fumbling with his zip and lets out a:

“Mmm… eeh… I’ve done this before? Eeh… ye…” Still being too zoomed in, I interrupt him with my inquiry.

“Okay, so you fill in some paper or what?”

Sadegh barely replies, saying, “I think so, I’m not sure…,” before an interruption in the form of a command escapes my mouth,

“Go ask that person!” I say without giving any thought to why Sadegh has slowed down. He slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out his mobile phone, an old model with a small screen, and starts searching for something. When he has found what it is he is looking for, he shows me a picture taken of a piece of paper with a long line of numbers on it.

“Can you see what it says?” he asks.

It is hard to make out the numbers, which seem to have been written in pencil. The picture is quite blurry and the screen displaying it is small, compared to the screen of my own, more modern phone that my eyes have become used to. I start pronouncing the numbers that I can decipher, while Sadegh repeats them in a low voice.

“It seems as if there is a number before the two, you see it?” “No.”

“Yes, it looks like a zero,” I insist.

“No, it starts with the two,” Sadegh maintains assuredly.

He holds the mobile phone closer to his eyes and reads out the numbers in a low voice and then walks to one of the counters, greets the person behind the glass wall and says that he wishes to make a money transfer to Iran. I approach from behind. The person greets him back, takes out a small notebook and starts filling out the lines while asking Sadegh about the information needed: name, telephone number, account number. Sadegh states the numbers he has interpreted from his mobile phone screen. Meanwhile, I am starting to develop anguished thoughts as the person behind the counter is filling in the account numbers and find myself thinking: How can he send the

money when he’s not sure he has interpreted the numbers right. I would never have sent that big an amount without being completely sure.

The person in charge of the money transaction asks if it really is an account number, to which Sadegh answers that it is the same number he has used when sending money before.

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“This isn’t an account number, but let’s proceed anyway,” the person replies. When the procedure of writing down all the details is finished, Sadegh hands over the collected money – 12,000 SEK1_{– whereupon the person from}

the exchange staff moves over, through the opening behind the glass wall, to the cash desk and hands over the piece of paper and the money to the cashier.

“Yes, so you’re making a transaction to Iran,” the cashier says in a casual tone while looking at the piece of paper before putting the money in the cash register.

“It’s done! The money will be there tomorrow.”

From my field notes: It’s done? Is it? Will the money arrive?

This money will not only get his brother moving from the hostage position he is in, in Turkey, but also pay for the coming passage through one of the safer escape routes to Greece. The transfer of the money from this small, rather inconspicuous shop to a similar or perhaps completely different transaction office on the outskirts of the capital of Iran, has just been performed. The money leaves Sadegh’s pocket, is handed over to the cashier and lies in the cash register. The money is there, just an arm’s length away from Sadegh, and in a short moment it will be digitalised in a computer and transformed, ready for withdrawal in another part of the globe.

From my second field note three days later: The money arrived!! The money arrived.

Sadegh’s brother could continue his journey to Greece. The borders cross his body.

Several borders. Several times.

From my field notes some months later: Sadegh’s brother has arrived in

Sweden.

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1. INTRODUCTION

Sadegh, the protagonist in the vignette and one of the participants in this thesis, sends money from Sweden to his family in Iran, who in turn forward it to the smugglers in Turkey in order to pay for the brother’s journey to Greece. The money travels between geographical borders at the same time as Sadegh, his family and his brother in different ways oscillate between taking action, waiting and hoping, and sometimes all of that at the same time. Sadegh’s money transaction captures one of the harsh realities of borders by making visible how money can move beyond barriers, while some people are controlled and potentially hindered from doing so. Sadegh’s brother, who does not hold a passport and citizenship2_{making him eligible to get a visa from any}

European embassy, needs to travel with the help of smugglers through unsafe passages to Greece. The inequalities of borders – making them felt by some and unnoticed by others – are vast. Sadegh’s story exemplifies one of the conditions of the everyday presence of borders, namely, the uncertainty of the unsure economy and the precarious economic conditions this creates.

The money transaction also reveals how individual acts are closely interwoven with collective forces. The money collected from friends by Sadegh and his friend Maria, for paying the smugglers, is one such example. Another one is the cooperation between Sadegh and his family in Iran. In this sense, the brother’s journey is made possible despite the borders between countries and through acts stemming from the intimacy and love of several involved people. Sadegh’s money transaction also illustrates how he, his friends, his family in

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Sadegh’s brother and the rest of his family have for decades lived undocumented in Iran with little prospect of getting residency, due to the Iranian authorities’ policy regarding Afghan citizens. I will elaborate on the situation of Afghan migrants in Iran in chapter 6.

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Iran and his brother act in defiance of the border controls of states aiming to restrict the movement between countries, first by entering into an economic transaction in the shop in Malmö, and then, once the money has arrived in Teheran, by sending the money to the smugglers who then make the journey to Europe possible. Consequently, this vignette also highlights the resistance towards borders.

This study derives from my will to call attention to the need to explore what borders do in the everyday lives of young migrants and to challenge the dominant “single story” (Adichie 2009) of ‘unaccompanied’ children in public discourse. I have chosen to start this thesis with the money transaction vignette because it captures the analytical and theoretical centre of my study. The border in this scene is just as much about the smugglers, the body, the economy, and the transaction as it is about the small shop in what is supposedly one of the hip areas in one of the biggest cities in Sweden. The vignette illustrates the ordinariness of borders, affecting some more than others, and it also comprises the analytical themes of this thesis, namely, time, love, intimacy, hope and resistance.

Borders and multiple stories

The central theory, method and analysis in this study revolve around borders. I talk about borders from a multiperspectival (Rumford 2012) standpoint – in terms of material as well as symbolic forms of control. My understanding of borders is drawn from the Latinx3

activist slogan – “We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us” – which directs our focus to borders as actors, placing an emphasis on borders crossing bodies and not the other way around. The slogan could be said to contest the fixed and naturalised notion of nation state borders. Furthermore, I have been inspired by studies on borders that focus on what borders do, in line with the slogan, but that also – and this is crucial – contribute with an analysis where borders are not only produced by states (Anzaldúa 2012 [1987]; Balibar 2002; Parker and Vaughan-Williams 2012; Rumford 2012). Social and symbolic borders produced and upheld by people, communities and institutions are equally of relevance. On this understanding, borders not only move but also arise and disappear, crossing individuals and things, and are constitutive of rhetorical and material

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processes of demarcation in which identities and social spaces are defined (Anderson 2013; Anzaldúa 2012 [1987]; Cisneros 2014; Mezzadra and Neilson 2013; Parker and Vaughan-Williams 2009, 2012; Whitley 2015). Moreover, borders are in this study understood as sites of control differentiating between people and communities and where class, racial, gender and many other social categories are (re)constructed. In this sense, borders not only hinder or stop some people while granting passage to others; they are also part of constructing people differently (Balibar 2002). The opening vignette exemplifies this aspect, as Sadegh’s brother cannot travel with a passport and visa to his destination in Europe but instead has to pay smugglers who can help him move between countries. The border in this scene constructs Sadegh’s brother as an irregular migrant, a person who travels without the approval of nation states. The theoretical potential of border studies thus allows for a view from an angle that places borders at the scene of power exercise – Sadegh’s brother is not an irregular migrant, but he becomes constructed as one by border practices.

Furthermore, scholarship on borders also contributes to an analysis where borders are examined as separators rather than walls or lines. Mezzadra and Neilson (2013) argue that borders need to be understood as practices that situate people and communities inside and outside, as well as in-between – the latter referring to being bordered,4_{which is regarded as an enduring position}

for some people (Anzaldúa 2012 [1987]). They also argue, like many other scholars within the field, that there is more to borders than the ‘interesting’ aspect of seeing them as performers. Borders also give rise to resistance, where boundaries are negotiated and where subjectivities are rearticulated and regained (Anzaldúa 2012 [1987]; Mezzadra and Neilson 2013).

Another crucial analytical argument in research on borders is the appropriation and unequal distribution of time. In this regard, I have been particularly influenced by research on the phenomenology of being stopped (Ahmed 2007) and waiting (Brun 2015; Hage 2009b). The overall argument is that being controlled involves the regulation of people’s time, some having more time to enjoy certain aspects of life, while others cannot afford to lose opportunities or moments and at times have to wait for other people or

4_{Being bordered refers to the state of being semi-included/excluded and will be elaborated on in the}

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institutions to grant them a certain movement. In this thesis, I am particularly interested in understanding how people live in spite of borders and the hindrances that follow thereof, and also in how contestations of borders can be articulated and performed. Here I have drawn on scholarship on resistance, where acts of talking and acting back (Anzaldúa 2012 [1987]; hooks 1989b), as well as self-articulation, enacting subjectivity and hope, play crucial parts in understanding the narratives of the young participants.

By studying what borders do, I also want to challenge the single story of migrant youth. Before I started working on this dissertation, and throughout the working process, I have observed that migrants, and particularly those categorised as ‘unaccompanied’, are described in simplified terms. Often in public discourse, particularly in media rhetoric, they are portrayed in single-story terms. Within this single single-story, ‘unaccompanied’ children are seldom portrayed as any other children with hopes and dreams, or as the present and future generation. A single story ultimately reduces the subject to stereotypes. I argue that there are simply too few portrayals in public discourse where migrants are defined beyond migrantness, that is, as parents, children, co-workers, friends, lovers, dreamers, artists, neighbours, activists, teachers, students, etc. In a speech given by the writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, she reminds the audience of the dangers of a single story, pointing out that stereotypes are not necessarily untrue, but that the main problem is that narrow descriptions and notions are incomplete.5_{“They make one story}

become the only story” (Adichie 2009). In accordance with Adichie, I argue that how stories are told, and when and by whom, is a matter of power and that research that is conducted together with people who have been squeezed into a single story can, thus, be a starting point from which to challenge stereotypical and objectifying portrayals. Inspired by Adichie’s speech, I have sought to portray multiple stories that acknowledge the everyday experiences of those who live in Sweden but carry with them the experience of border controls and of having been defined as ‘unaccompanied’. By doing so, I have not only aimed at learning about their present situation but also endeavoured to focus on their lives before Sweden, before Europe. This has allowed me to challenge the single story of migrants that is often constructed at the doorstep to countries of the Global North.

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In this ethnographic study, I present the experiences of Sadegh, Majid, Fuaad, Dhalia, Farzad, Hassan, Wahid and Absame, who at some point have all been categorised as ‘unaccompanied’ children, in Sweden and in other countries. They share stories containing memories and accounts ranging from their childhood to their current life in Sweden, and also their dreams and aspirations for the future. These stories are, even though originating from their unique lives, transferable to a larger story, since collective memories and experiences are embedded in these narratives (Dahl 2011; Mohanty 2003; Vodniza, Hernandez, and Serrano 2017). The stories of the youth also help me to contextualise their experiences in a broader sense, in terms of borders and the current migration regime.

I wish to emphasise that this study in no way attempts to ‘discover’ things, experiences or people.6_{When talking about discovering something, there is a}

linguistic tradition that is closely interwoven with the colonial enterprise and that requests something new or extraordinary (Asad 1973; De Genova 2005). This, in turn, legitimises the study of some people, which places the researcher in a superior position with regard to those who are interviewed and who share their knowledge. However, following the tradition of decolonial scholarship inspired by oral history, my ambition with this work is to move through the rather disorganised experiences and narratives shared with me in this study and allow for the messiness of life and knowledge production (Law 2004; cf. Reimers and Martinsson 2016) to be acknowledged, as far as has been possible within the frames of this doctoral dissertation. The narratives of the youth are, accordingly, at the centre of my study and have been used to tell a complex story about borders that cross their lives – territorial borders as well as those divisions that differentiate between life possibilities.

The research aim

The thesis derives from a willingness to challenge the single story of ’un-accompanied’ children by taking the stories of the youth who participated in my study as my point of departure. In dialogue with feminist, postcolonial and border scholarship, I want to explore multiple stories by multiple storytellers in order to understand the diversity of what borders do, and how people of the borderlands are affected, individually and collectively. Hence, the aim of

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this thesis is to study what borders do and how the youth navigate, experience and challenge borders at different stages of their lives. Furthermore, the aim is to explore how agencies are enacted and limited by borders, and the way in which the youth enact resistance.

The structure of the thesis and advice on how to read it

Since the stories of the participants are at the centre of my thesis, I want to present a shortcut for those who wish to access their stories right away. My suggestion is to read chapter 5, where the participants are presented, and chapter 6, 7 and 8, where their stories are shared and analysed. For an overall understanding of my analysis of this study, I recommend that the thesis is read in full.

This study consists of 9 chapters. In chapter 2, I present the context of this study and previous research. In this chapter, relevant dates, laws and discourses that I find crucial for the understanding of my thesis are outlined. I also discuss the contributions of my study in relation to previous research. In chapter 3, the theoretical framework of borders is developed and a multiperspectival understanding of borders is presented. I relate the discussion to theories on being stopped, waiting and being stuck, and on non-linear time, as well as outlining how contestations of borders can be theorised. In chapter 4, I discuss my methodological standpoint and the ethnographic work in terms of selection, anonymisation, fieldwork and method of analysis. In chapter 5, the participants of this study are presented through snapshots in which I provide short background information about the countries they have lived in and about whether they have lived undocumented, as well as other information relevant for the understanding of the analysis. In chapters 6, 7 and 8, the stories of the youth are presented, together with my analysis in dialogue with previous research, theory and methodology. Each of these chapters is introduced by a vignette that in different ways captures the main theme of each chapter. The thesis is subsequently summarised in chapter 9, in which the major conclusions and my final reflections are presented. Finally, I provide a Swedish popular science summary of the thesis.

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2. SWEDISH BORDERS AND

CATEGORISATIONS OF MIGRANTS

In this chapter I would like to outline dates, laws, discourses, historical structures and previous research crucial for the understanding of this thesis. More specifically, the time when the participants of this study arrived in Sweden, that is, between 2009 and 2013, will be set in a historical context to sketch the political-migratory situation in Sweden (and the EU) at that time. But also more recent political shifts and regulations are presented to give an overall picture of the migration regime. By presenting and analysing previous research, this thesis will, furthermore, be positioned in relation to other studies.

I will start with some reflections on terminology and by introducing the terms used in this study. Thereafter follows a discussion on some of those terms and concepts that are relevant for this study. Subsequently, I present an outline of the research on unaccompaniedness,7_{which is followed by an account of how}

this study contributes to this research field. Next, some numbers and statistics, intended to provide an overview of the consequences of migration and border controls regarding unaccompaniedness in Sweden, are presented. Then, the Dublin II Regulation, which has had severe consequences for the lives of the participants, is introduced, followed by a description of the rights of ‘unaccompanied’ children and the protests against the migration policies in Sweden. After this follows a discussion on border controls and how they can be placed in a historical context of colonialism and racism in Sweden. This discussion leads to an analysis of the discourse on migration, an analysis

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revelatory of the contradictoriness within the migration policies of the EU, which, lastly, is followed by an investigation of the regulatory shifts and migration laws in Sweden. In the summary, the main findings of this chapter are condensed and the overall contribution of the thesis is developed.

Citizenship and its borders

Migrant, refugee, asylum seeker, immigrant, emigrant, expat, deportable, person in exile, person in diaspora, non-citizen, outsider, outcast, foreigner, stranger, settler and traveller. These are some words that are used to describe people who have experienced border controls and who have moved between geographical spaces, some having fled for their lives and others having travelled for family reunions, pleasure or work. I wish to start this chapter by reminding the reader that words are never just words but have material consequences as soon as they are used and put in practice in policy documents, laws and public discourse. Which words are used, when and by whom, is a matter of power relations. For instance, all people who seek asylum are not defined as refugees by the migration authorities, and all people who move between countries are not defined as migrants, one example being businessmen. Migration and citizenship scholar Bridget Anderson argues that we need to examine the relation between “immigration control, racism, and ideas of autochthony and belonging” (2013:29) in order to understand the complex question of who the migrant is and who can be counted as such (cf. Andersson et al. 2010). Furthermore, she teaches us that terms like ‘asylum seeker’ never simply are “descriptive of legal status, that is, formal membership, but they are value laden and negative” (2013:4). Accordingly, many of these words are normative legal categories.

Historically, the 1951 UN Refugee Convention has commonly been considered “the critical event in the institutionalisation of the post-World War II regime for handling refugees” (Malkki 1995:501). The definition of refugeeness not only forms a legal framework to protect and assure the basic rights of people in movement; it is also part of constructing the refugee and

who is to be defined as such. However, it was not until 1967, when the

Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees was developed, that the refugee law actually came to involve the international and not merely the European refugee situation. During the period of decolonisation from the 1960s and onwards, refugeeness has increasingly become categorised as a problem of the

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“third world” (Malkki 1995:503), something that the ensuing discussion will elaborate on.

Let us direct our gaze towards the conception of citizenship, which is often posed as the opposite of the above-mentioned terms. There are numerous studies that have investigated the relation between migration and citizenship rights (Balibar 2004; Isin 2009; Nyers 2008). There is, as goes for all the other mentioned concepts as well, not a fixed understanding of what it means to be a citizen and who is counted as such. Rather, some can be more questioned in their membership right whilst others seldom risk losing their legal or normative affiliation to nation states (Hammar 1990; Holgersson 2011; Isin 2009; Lister 2003; de los Reyes 2006; Sager, Holgersson, and Öberg 2016b). Vanna Nordling’s (2017) research on the work of social workers who give different kinds of support to undocumented migrants in Sweden, provides a discussion on citizenship as something that can be contested as well as remade. By looking at how citizenship is made and who are seen as belonging within this category, her study gives insights into how encounters within social work with undocumented inhabitants challenge the citizenship regime (cf. Nielsen 2016). Citizenship is thus seen as a practice that undergoes transformation in different times and places rather than a static membership.

I would like to make a comment on terminology, seeing that the term irregular

migration is frequently used in migration studies along with many other

words, such as undocumented, clandestine, deportable and in hiding. I mainly use the terms undocumented and undocumentedness as these are the terms that come closest to the language used by the participants in this study (cf. Malkki 1995). When speaking in Swedish the participants have used the term

papperslös which translates as ‘without papers’, originating from the French

word sans-papier, a term that has been incorporated in global migration movements. When speaking Farsi/Dari they have used the word sia which translates as ‘black’, referring to illegality. I have chosen not to translate literally in this case due to racist perceptions comprised in speaking of colour as legality/illegality, but also and importantly due to not agreeing to speak of people as illegals. When speaking English with one of the participants, we have mainly used the term undocumented. Having said this, the terms regular and irregular are also used in this study in those cases when I rephrase from or reconnect to the works of other authors.

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Moreover, the right to have rights, a construct formulated by political philosopher Hannah Arendt (1951), is discussed in much of the literature on regular as well as irregular migration. In a Swedish context irregularity has been studied, both in its temporary and in its more permanent, long-term form and with regard to what this does to the everyday lives of people and societies as a whole (Bexelius 2016; Cuadra 2012a, 2015; Holgersson 2011; Keshavarz 2016; Khosravi 2010; Lundberg and Spång 2017; Lundberg and Strange 2017; Nordling 2017; Sager 2011; Sager et al. 2016b; Selberg 2014; Sigvardsdotter 2012). In terms of human rights, criticism is raised by many scholars for their proclamation of universalism whilst they are in fact dependent on citizenship status, whether real or imagined, and conditioned by systems of belonging. The paradox of citizenship and rights can, furthermore, be observed in the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights stating the right to emigrate but not the right to immigrate. The contradictory laws and state practices are most visible for those lacking residency but also to a certain degree for those with residency who are, or feel they are, outside the system. There can be said to be a fluctuation in terms of citizenship versus non-citizenship, which varies over time and place, where many citizens, mostly with an immigrant background, experience semi-citizenship, as they are denied full participation due to conceptions of race, nationality, name, religion, etc. Being placed in a political category between citizen and non-citizen is, for example, investigated in Julija Sardelić’s (2017) study on Romani migrants. She argues that Romani migrants are frequently irregularised and denied many of the rights enjoyed by other EU-citizens. Additionally, Jacob Lind and Maria Persdotter (2017) show in their study on children of so-called “vulnerable EU-citizens”8_{how the Swedish government attempts to keep this group separated}

from the category of irregular migrant children, in order to prevent them from accessing rights otherwise guaranteed to irregular migrant children. Furthermore, for those who have had long-term residency but lack citizenship, the term ‘denizen’ (Hammar 1990) captures yet another form of semi-membership.

8_{The Swedish government uses the term ‘vulnerable EU-citizens’ to describe those with no rights of}

residency in Sweden. This term refers to poor people racialised as non-white, who not infrequently beg on the streets and live under poor conditions. Romani people make up a majority of this group (SOU 2016:6).

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Furthermore, the concept of citizenship has over the last decades increasingly become synonymous with the effective, independent consumer adapted from neoliberal logics (Thylefors 2007). In Maja Sager’s (2011) study, the ongoing transition to neoliberal discourse and politics is explored by investigating how clandestinity is constructed by and in the Swedish welfare state. A central finding in Sager’s research is the construction of the clandestine citizenship derived from the margins of citizenship and migration policies. Central to this context is the dismantling of the welfare state through neoliberal processes, “the deregulation of labour markets and the ongoing construction of Fortress Europe with its contradictory interplay between a) the labour market’s needs for migrants, and b) neo-racist ‘needs’ for migrants who they both exclude as ‘others’ and include as scapegoats” (2011:230). This context not only produces the margins of citizenship but also a specific subject that at times passes as a citizen whilst being on other occasions and in certain settings limited or completely denied access to welfare entitlements and protection. Some examples of this half and half inclusion/exclusion, or “inclusionary exclusion” (Agamben 1998) has been investigated when it comes to social services (Cuadra and Staaf 2014; Nordling 2012), education (Lind and Persdotter 2017; Lundberg and Strange 2017) and health care (Cuadra 2012b; Cuadra and Staaf 2010; Lundberg and Söderman 2015; Lundberg and Spång 2017; Sinha and Uppal 2009) for irregular migrants in a Swedish context. Another scholar who also has investigated the notion of inclusive exclusion and how borders influence the lives of people who migrate, is social anthropologist Shahram Khosravi (2006, 2011, 2017). In his auto-ethnographic book The ‘illegal’ traveller he problematises irregularity, “the nature of borders, border politics, and the rituals and performances of border crossing” (2011:5) and what borders do to the everyday lives of people and societies as a whole. By understanding borders as performed on bodies (cf. Mezzadra and Neilson 2013), the discourse of ‘illegality’ is situated on a structural level involving policies and laws that produce the travelling subject. Khosravi thus espouses a long tradition of migration scholars arguing that not only borders but also irregularity are a construct of nation states. He, furthermore, investigates the fluctuation in terms of citizenship versus non-citizenship, connecting the discussion to irregular migrants, since they can be excluded and included in society at the same time. He writes:

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In other words; they are excluded from the legal sphere but are still objects of law practice. Irregular immigrants aren’t represented politically but are still in the focal point of political debate – from the parliament and the negotiations between the political parties to the activities of voluntary organizations in the form of manifestations, demonstrations and petitions.

They are given no voice in the public debate but constitute sensational figures that are much in demand by mass media. Agamben argues that it is precisely through this ‘including exclusion’ that the sovereign power is maintained (Agamben 1998:17). The sovereign power does not merely work by a simple process that excludes undesired individuals, it regulates and also restricts their lives with the help of the law. The undesirable are thus actively held outside social and political spheres, while at the same time engaged in economic activities. Irregular immigrants are not excluded but have been excepted. (Khosravi 2006:305, my translation)

The division between fixed inclusionary or exclusionary practices within the membership of the state is hence, according to Khosravi, more of a juridical figure than an embodied lived experience. “Undocumented migrants are included in society without being recognized as members” (Khosravi 2010:111), resulting in a state of exception.

Research on unaccompaniedness

Even though the participants of this study were no longer minors at the time of the fieldwork, their experience of migrating as a child9_{and the concept of}

unaccompaniedness10_{linked to persons under age, are central for the}

understanding of the categorisation as ‘unaccompanied’ children and the participants’ experience of border control. I believe it is important to give an outline of the research on ‘unaccompanied’ children, especially as the group constructed as such constitute “an ambivalent political identity both as

9_{I believe it is crucial to accentuate the term ’child’ in this context because of the benefits and rights}

that are embedded in it in national and many international legal frameworks. However, many of the individuals who are defined under the legal category of ‘unaccompanied’ are teenagers, some on the verge of reaching adulthood. As such, many scholars use ‘youth’ and ‘youngsters’ to clarify the matureness and nearness to adulthood in those cases when this is relevant. I will in the following use those terms employed by the authors themselves. Moreover, in relation to the participants of this study, I refer to them as ‘youth’, seeing that they are no longer minors at the time of my study.

10

I suggest the concept unaccompaniedness in order to make visible the social construction of the term ‘unaccompanied’ and as a way of not reproducing a static identity. My argument is that ‘unaccompanied’ is a legal category referring to minors when asylum was sought and that it cannot be equated with a personal fixed trait.

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asylum-seeking and children” (Brunnberg, Borg, and Fridström 2011:11, my translation). Accordingly, this signifies that they are situated in two different political and administrative frameworks, and in different discourses as well as in different academic subject areas. This does not mean that these fields are not overlapping. When studying the movement of people, in my case youth and young adults, and their experiences of borders, different layers of research fields intersect. For the sake of clarity (which should not be mistaken for dividing lines) I will in the following give an outline of some of the research specifically conducted on unaccompaniedness.

When I first started my PhD studies in December 2012, there was, surprisingly, very little research describing the situation of children migrating without any adult guardian to Sweden. Over the years, however, the number of studies concerning this migrant category has increased, and in different disciplinary fields. Swedish (as well as international) research dealing with unaccompaniedness, and with the asylum process as well as the work within the welfare system and the experiences of these children, is without a doubt a growing field. I argue, in accordance with Live Stretmo (2014:32), that research on unaccompaniedness with emphasis on a Nordic context is roughly organised in three fields: a pediatric and psychological approach (Andersson et al. 2010; Ascher 2014a, 2014b; Eide 2012), a juridical point of entry (Backlund and Malmsten 2013; Engebrigtsen 2003; Keselman 2009; Lundberg 2011; Rimsten 2006; Schiratzki 2005) and, lastly, an interdisciplinary field (Herz 2018; Herz and Lalander 2017; Keselman 2009; Lalander and Raoof 2016; Söderqvist 2017; Stretmo 2014; Wernesjö 2014). These fields have in distinct ways broadened the knowledge and understanding of child and youth migration over the last two decades, and also, I would argue, of the single story, by portraying the resistance among the young people. I have drawn on several of these contributions in the analysis of my study.

When looking at this overview of research on unaccompaniedness, it is clear that the last decades of immigration politics have more and more been influenced by a medically oriented focus which has not only developed a specific migrant subject, but has also entailed the inclusion of other interpretations than the right to asylum in the legislation and the reasons for being granted residency. Accordingly, this has created a slide in the official rhetoric involving the view and practice of asylum rights, where the right to

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asylum has increasingly been moved to the right to residency for humanitarian reasons (Fassin 2005; Lundberg 2016:201). This means that a person is granted residency not as refugee or person in need of protection but instead because of health threats, which gives rise to conceptions of deserving and less deserving asylum seekers (Stretmo 2010:249). Other forms of legal and discursive slides have been studied by amongst others Ketil Eide (2005) and Ada Engebrigtsen (2003), who have investigated how the Norwegian migration authorities have more and more been granting residency based on particularly distressing circumstances11_{rather than asylum. They observe that}

there is a tension between the child’s best interest and the state’s interest in upholding a restrictive immigration policy. The state’s interest becomes prioritised and the child’s rights are thus reduced. Likewise, Dale Balucci and Sara Dorow (2014) demonstrate in their research on the construction of childhood based on the case study of Chinese adoptees and refugees in Canada, how the best interest of the child all too often is converted to the best interest of the state. They, furthermore, argue that the construction of ‘unaccompanied’ youth as being in specific need of protection serves to legitimise the state’s interest in its model of restrictive immigration.

Seeing that the main reason for being granted residency is based on being categorised as a child (Stretmo 2014:152), which automatically translates as vulnerable subjects, several scholars have investigated the aspect of age and forms of control thereof. Within the legal and discursive shifts described above, age assessments are made through bodily examinations such as bone x-rays and teeth examinations, two methods among many sanctioned by several European states to determine the age of the asylum seekers, especially of those who are under age. This is carried out despite wide-ranging criticism from researchers, pediatricians and other medical staff who have noted several serious deficiencies in the methods used (Aynsley-Green 2009; Heaven 2007; Hjern, Brendler-Lindqvist, and Norredam 2012; Olofsson et al. 2017; TT 2013). These age tests can be understood as contemporary asylum biopolitics (Fassin 2005), considering that age is estimated through measurements of the body rather than the words of the asylum seeker, thus consolidating a politics of mistrust targeted at young migrants. The effect that this distrust (Andersson et al. 2005; Kohli 2006; Watters 2008) expressed and performed by

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authorities, has on children experiencing unaccompaniedness is twofold, since they are met with suspicion both due to being refugees and due to being under age. “In this sense the construct of biological age, and the implementation of the 18 years of age limit for asylum seekers, is extremely important in official practice” (Stretmo 2014:258). Regarding my own study, several of the participants have not only witnessed or undergone these age assessment methods and been disbelieved with respect to their age, all except one of them have also turned 18 during the long procedure of their asylum application due to the Dublin II Regulation12_{. One could say that this EU-regulation itself}

contributes to this age control, as it hinders and stops the asylum seeker in their ambition while time continues ticking, adding months and years to the age of the person.

It is worth noting that unaccompaniedness is not a new phenomenon in a Swedish context. During the mid 19th_{century to the 20}th_{century over one}

million people, thousands of whom were children with experience of unaccompaniedness, emigrated from Sweden to the United States (SR (Sveriges Radio [Radio Sweden]) 2015b; Svanberg and Tydén 2005). Already during the Second World War, children with a Jewish background and Finnish nationality were sent to Sweden. Around 70,000 children from Finland, categorised as unaccompanied, were registered in Sweden (Integrationsverket [The Integration Agency] 2003:16). According to the former Swedish Integration Agency,13_{millions of children experiencing unaccompaniedness}

were scattered around Europe as a consequence of the war. During the 1980s, thousands of children from Vietnam arrived in Sweden and were categorised as unaccompanied (ibid.). Since the 1990s and onwards the phenomenon of unaccompaniedness has continued for children migrating to Sweden from different countries. In this sense, unaccompaniedness and the reception of children bearing that experience is nothing new in Sweden. Against this background, it is interesting to look at the public discourse related to unaccompaniedness.

According to Stretmo, these children have in contemporary media discourse been portrayed through the dichotomy of passive victims or active, almost

12_{For an explanation of the Dublin II Regulation, see the section named The Dublin Regulation and}

protests against Swedish migration policies in this chapter.

13

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cunning strategists (Stretmo 2011, 2014), a duality that seems to reflect the tension between victim and actor that can be read into the Swedish term for ‘unaccompanied’, namely, ‘alone-coming’.14_{There are, however, other}

discourses as well related to unaccompaniedness, most recently the view of young migrant men as sexual perpetrators, a view that has increased significantly since the sexual assaults of women in Cologne, Germany, on New Year’s Eve 2015 and at a festival in Sweden the same year, where young migrant men were pointed out as the perpetrators (Herz 2018). Research on men and masculinity has, according to social work scholar Marcus Herz, shown how immigrant (Muslim) men have discursively been portrayed as dangerous and a threat. A consequence of this is that those categorised as ‘unaccompanied’ are put in “a gendered situation of questioning, of constantly having to defend themselves, their opinions and actions” (ibid., p.16). As seen from these examples, the construction of ‘unaccompaniedness’ has in public discourse become attached to disbelief.

Moreover, Ulrika Wernesjö (2011) argues that existing research largely tends to characterise the ‘unaccompanied’ children as particularly vulnerable and at risk of developing mental illness. There is, according to this research, a need for support and protection, constructing the youngsters as othered than ‘normal’ youth and what is considered to be ‘normal’ childhood (cf. Stretmo 2010). One of Wernesjö’s arguments is that this construction is partly a product of the nature of research itself, “which is primarily conducted within individual-oriented disciplines that focus on psychopathology and developmental perspectives” (2011:504). She underlines that this can have implications for how the children are constructed as a category and how they are recognised. Moreover, much of the prevailing research produces homogeneous accounts of ‘unaccompanied’ children along with processes of pathologisation, often accentuating that the children are distinct from others, and thus falling into the pitfalls of generalising conclusions. Similarly, Ravi Kohli (2006, 2007) argues that the risk of a dominating psychological focus in contemporary research is that it feeds a narrow picture of the daily lives of the children. This portrayal positions the children outside the overall portrait of childhood, since they are constructed as mentally unstable subjects and bearers of experiences that are not linked to notions of childhood, particularly as they

14_{In Swedish, the term for ‘unaccompanied’ is ensamkommande which translates as alone-coming, a}

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are seen as ‘lonely’ (Herz and Lalander 2017). As a response to this othering practice, anthropologist Liisa Malkki (1995), amongst others, argues that there is a need not to blindly assume that the separation from the family is inevitably a traumatising experience (cf. Brunnberg et al. 2011:48).

Having said this, I think it is important to acknowledge the importance of psychiatric and medical research with and on young migrants, especially as it has been crucial in granting them health care and social rights. Essentially, I think the problem is the shortage, and often absence, of research from other scholarly fields investigating the Swedish processes and the organisation of the reception of young people with experiences of unaccompaniedness, particularly research that focuses on the perspectives of the children themselves regarding their dreams, struggles and ambitions. I also argue that there is a scarcity of research examining the lives of these young people before they enter the geographical space referred to as Sweden, or other European countries for that matter (there are however examples such as Ayotte 2000; Hopkins and Hill 2008; Thomas et al. 2004). Furthermore, I argue that the prevailing story about unaccompaniedness in Sweden is repeatedly a Eurocentric narrative where the children come into being on the threshold of European borders. They are constructed and reproduced merely as migrants, thus lacking a history of before and after. Adding this to the current scholarly range, these migrant children are, furthermore, categorised as clients, patients and users. It is in this void that my study can be situated, contributing to the field of migration and border studies. And even though I am not keen on reproducing the legal category of ‘unaccompanied’ as something the children

are, due to its stigmatising and static conceptualisation (cf. Herz and Lalander

2017), but rather interpret the term as a situation they are or have been in, I also see my work as a contribution to research on the field of ‘unaccompanied’ children. The stories before and after migrating are important here, along with who can be defined as an ‘unaccompanied’ child and when this legal category ceases to exist in their lives.

Dates and numbers

Over the last couple of years the number of those categorised as ‘unaccompanied’ children seeking asylum has increased extensively. Depending on the global context with war, famine, poverty, unemployment, racism, migration policies, increased border controls and racial profiling, just

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to mention a few variables affecting the movement of people outside and within the European borders, the number of people making it to Sweden to seek asylum unavoidably varies. Having said this, my study is not about quantifying people and experiences. I will therefore not focus on numbers and statistics. The following numbers are provided as an overview of the consequences of migration and border controls rather than with the aim of counting individuals. Furthermore, they only concern those minors who have been registered by the Swedish migration authorities, which means that those who pass through or live for a shorter or longer period of time unregistered are not visible in these numbers.

The majority of those seeking asylum as ‘unaccompanied’ children in Sweden have over the last decade been from Afghanistan, Eritrea, Iraq, Morocco, Somalia and Syria. According to the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC) and Swedish law, an ‘unaccompanied’ child is a person under 18 years who at the arrival in Sweden is separated from their parents or any other adult guardian, or who at the arrival stands without any such adult (CRC 2005; Law (1994:137) n.d.1 b §). In 2011, the year when the first participants of this study arrived in Sweden, 2,657 ‘unaccompanied’ children were registered as asylum seekers (Migrationsverket [Migration Agency] 2018c). The following years the number of children seeking asylum increased with a noticeable rise first in 2014, when 7,049 children were registered, and later in 2015, when 35,369 children categorised as ‘unaccompanied’ sought asylum (Migrationsverket [Migration Agency] 2016a).

In 2016, the number seeking asylum had decreased to 2,199 children (Migrationsverket [Migration Agency] 2017a), a consequence of the borders being “closed”15_{in November 2015 (Nordling, Sager, and Söderman}

2017:713f; SVT (Sveriges Television [Sweden’s television]) 2015). Among these applicants, 1,764 were registered as boys and 435 as girls (Migrationsverket [Migration Agency] 2017a). In 2017, 1,336 ‘unaccompanied’ children were registered as asylum seekers, 1,043 of whom were registered as boys and 293 as girls (Migrationsverket [Migration Agency] 2018a). Even though the number of ‘unaccompanied’ children registered as

15_{The Swedish Social Democrats and their Green Party ally proclaimed in a nationwide television}

broadcast on November 24, 2015 a “breathing space” for the Swedish state as the reason for closing the borders.

Borders crossing bodies : the stories of eight youth with experience of migrating

POURAN DJAMPOUR

BORDERS CROSSING BODIES

The Stories of Eight Youth

With Experience of Migrating

BORDERS

CR

OSSIN

G

BODIES

Malmö University

Health and Society, Doctoral Dissertation 2018:6

POURAN DJAMPOUR

BORDERS CROSSING BODIES

Malmö University, 2018

Faculty of Health and Society

The stories of eight youth with experience of migrating

ABSTRACT

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

♥

مادر،پدر،خواهر و برادر عزیز من ،بی نهایت دوستتون دارم

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CONTENTS

Vignette ●

1. INTRODUCTION

Borders and multiple stories

The research aim

The structure of the thesis and advice on how to read it

2. SWEDISH BORDERS AND

CATEGORISATIONS OF MIGRANTS

Citizenship and its borders

Research on unaccompaniedness

Dates and numbers