We Are Not Invisible: This photo series tells the stories of modern slavery survivors

Trigger warning: mention of sexual abuse and torture

It’s estimated that worldwide there are 50 million people in modern slavery, according to Unseen UK, a Bristol-based charity that provides safehouses and support to survivors. Despite this immense figure, there is little public awareness of the issue; the signs to look for, the rate of human trafficking, or the stories of people who have survived it. It was for this very reason that the Birmingham born and based photographer Léa Campbell decided to create We Are Not Invisible, a series that presents the stories of survivors and aims to foster deeper empathy and understanding.

The series began while Leá was working at an organisation supporting survivors of modern slavery. It was through speaking to family and friends about her work that she realised how little people knew about it, and how rife misconceptions were too: “for example, that it’s a historical issue, or that it doesn’t happen here in the UK,” says Léa. “I decided to use photography as a tool for survivors to tell their own stories,” she continues. “Those who participated felt strongly about sharing their experiences to educate others, finding the process empowering and cathartic.”

The project features the stories of six survivors, with “vastly different backgrounds and intersectional vulnerabilities that made them susceptible to exploitation”, Léa says. It was important for Lea and the sitters to illustrate this vast and complex nature of modern slavery, but also to find ways their stories could be conveyed. What’s more, as Léa was completing the project, a series of new immigration laws were introduced across the UK – the Nationality and Borders Act, Illegal Migration Act, Safety of Rwanda Act – all of which made it much harder for survivors to access their basic rights. “Sharing survivors’ nuanced, complex stories felt like an antidote to sensationalised anti-immigration sentiment and the hostile legal frameworks it perpetuates,” says Léa.

Maintaining the anonymity of the sitters was crucial, both to protect their privacy and safety. Over the course of the project, Léa became close with the people she was photographing, and together they explored alternative visual elements that would convey the core of their story, placing importance on highlighting the human element. Some show meaningful possessions, like a significant piece of jewellery, or a piece of clothing, while others showed evidence of torture. “Hand’s emerged as a recurring motif,” Lèa says. “They expressed both the impacts of exploitation and the profound range of human experience. Hands are incredibly evocative; they can harm and exploit, but they also create, nurture, and protect.” One image shows a young Sudanese man showing the scars that are a result of the torture he suffered while detained in Libya. “The ghostly imprints of his scars serve both as a visual reminder of his suffering and allude to the invisible wounds carried by survivors,” says Léa.

One image from the series was recently shortlisted for the British Journal of Photography’s Portrait of Humanity prize, that of a Nigerian woman – who escaped sexual exploitation – and her daughter, perched on her lap. What draws Leá to the picture is its sense of the everyday, it is “intimate and familiar” she says; the unmade bed, the TV remote, the washing hanging in the background, but also what’s palpable beneath the surface. “Amidst the mundane, there’s a sense of resilience and protection,” she says. “The mirroring between mother and daughter reflects their bond, one of mutual comfort.”

For Léa, if We Are Not Invisible manages to invoke reflection, or a shift in perspective, “even if only on a small scale”, she’ll be happy. “In the face of rising anti-immigration sentiments, it’s crucial to maintain compassion and advocate for inclusive policies that protect the most vulnerable in our communities.”