Falsely Accused of FGM. Took Our Baby. We’re Fighting Back!

Racially profiled, wrongfully arrested, silenced: A Muslim family’s fight for justice.

My name is Rahel. I’m a father, a husband, and a self-employed man who has always worked hard to support my family and serve my community. For over a decade, I’ve been a trustee of a Muslim charity, supporting those in need.

Despite all of this, on March 20th, 2025, during Ramadan, and just one week before my daughter’s first birthday, our lives were torn apart.

We were wrongfully arrested, humiliated, and traumatised—not because of anything we did, but because of our faith, our skin colour, and the clothes we wore.

That morning, we dropped off our daughter at nursery as usual. We were dressed in traditional Islamic attire, as we often are during Ramadan. Our daughter was healthy, playful, and completely well.

When I returned at 6 p.m. to collect her, I was made to wait outside knocking for over 20 minutes. I was fasting, with iftar just moments away. My wife and sister-in-law were waiting at home to break fast together.

Suddenly, a police officer approached me and, without warning, said:

“The nursery believes you’ve committed FGM on your daughter. You’re under arrest.”

There had been no medical assessment, no investigation, no questions—just an accusation. I asked how this could be possible. The officer replied:

“The staff checked her inside. A part of her is missing. It can only be from FGM.”

Again, no medical professional had seen her.

What followed was a clear act of racial profiling, from the nursery to the arresting officers.

They didn’t see a father. They saw a brown Muslim man in religious clothing—and presumed guilt.

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Denied water. Denied rights. While fasting

At the station, I explained I hadn’t had water all day. I begged to break my fast with just a sip. They refused.

At the custody desk, I asked again. The officer replied:

“You can appreciate why, given the nature of your crime, we didn’t give you any.”

I sat in a cold, unfamiliar cell, fasting, devastated—denied even the dignity of water. I had never been arrested in my life. I believed in the system. But now, I was being treated as a criminal simply for being a Muslim father.

In the cell, I told myself: At least my wife will be with our daughter. At least she won’t be alone.

Then they told me:

“Your wife and sister-in-law have also been arrested.”

That broke me.

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What they did to our daughter

But what shattered us beyond words was learning what had been done to our daughter while we were locked away.

Our baby girl, not even one year old, had been subjected to an internal and deeply invasive examination without our consent, and without a single family member present to protect or comfort her.

She’s just a baby. Yet nursery staff took it upon themselves to examine the most private part of her body, claiming to see signs of harm, despite having no medical training or authority to do so.

For children of South Asian heritage, natural skin pigmentation can vary. But instead of consulting a doctor or seeking expert guidance, they acted on their own assumptions.

This wasn’t a medical check. It wasn’t care. It was a violation.

That part of a child’s body is never touched during a normal nappy change. What they did went far beyond anything appropriate—and they did it without informing us, without our consent, and without allowing a parent to be present.

Later, when a social worker arranged a hospital exam, we begged to be there, or just any family member to be there, just to hold her hand.

They refused again.

Imagine being a baby, taken by strangers, touched in places she doesn't understand, scared, confused, alone.

Imagine being her parents, locked in cells, helpless to stop it.

This wasn’t safeguarding. It was trauma disguised as protocol.

They didn’t just take her privacy.

They took her sense of safety.

They took our right to protect her.

They took a piece of her innocence, and left us shattered.

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Held without answers. Released without justice

We were detained for nearly 18 hours, no interview, no food, no updates. We simply disappeared, while our baby remained with strangers, the same ones who had accused us.

The next day, police told us we’d be released—but only if we agreed to a full medical examination of our daughter. We signed without hesitation. We just wanted her back.

By 2 p.m., someone came to our home and said:

No apology.

No accountability.

No justice.

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What we discovered later

Through a subject access request, we obtained the hospital records. The doctors who examined our daughter confirmed:

She was a healthy, happy baby—taken from her parents for nothing.

Anyone who knows our daughter will tell you: she was a beam of light. She’d say “hiya” to strangers, wave to neighbours, light up every room.

Now, she’s afraid. She won’t go near anyone outside our home. She won’t let us out of her sight.

We had planned a joyful celebration for her first birthday. Family, friends, decorations—we were ready.

But we cancelled it.

We couldn’t celebrate through pain.

That memory was stolen—from her, and from us.

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The lasting damage

My wife now has PTSD. She can’t sleep without our child beside her. She’s afraid to be alone.

I, too, suffer from PTSD. The flashbacks won’t stop—the arrest, the cell, the helplessness.

I didn’t want to keep telling this story. But we must. Because it must never happen again.

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Our lives upended

I had to stop working to care for my family. As a self-employed man, I don’t get paid leave. We’re surviving on savings, family help, and faith.

Just months before all this, I opened my dream restaurant. Now I may have to walk away—another painful loss.

We’re about to leave the town I grew up in.

Not by choice, but because we no longer feel safe here.

The nursery profiled us.

The police arrested us without cause.

The custody officers dehumanised us.

The investigators dismissed our complaints.

And every institution involved has walked away without consequence.

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Our demand for accountability

We filed a formal complaint against the police. Their response?

Meanwhile, we’re left to rebuild our lives from the rubble they left behind.

That’s how systems protect themselves—not by seeking truth, but by denying harm.

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Why we’re raising funds

Cases like ours are rare—and extremely difficult to fight.

Solicitors have told us:

“This will take time, courage, and significant financial support.”

We are raising funds to:

We’re aiming to raise £49,000 to support these needs, including legal fees.

To keep things manageable, our GoFundMe target will increase in milestone steps as each goal is reached.

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Please help us seek justice

This wasn’t a misunderstanding.

This was racial profiling.

This was Islamophobia.

This was a chain of discrimination—from nursery to custody to complaints procedure.

Please help us fight back—not just for our family, but for every brown, Muslim, or marginalised family that could be next.

If you can’t donate, please share.

If you can’t share, please pray for us.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

– Rahel

#JusticeForBabySafiyya

#HorrendousUKTreatment