I was 26 years old when I arrived in Britain on a flimsy and dangerously overcrowded dinghy. I was desperate and there were no other options. I was traumatised from the torture I’d endured in Sudan and exhausted by the horrors of my journey. If Suella Braverman’s Illegal Migration Bill had existed then, I might not be alive today.

I know only too well the desperation that drives people to risk their lives trying to escape. The bill, which returns to Parliament this week for its report stage in the House of Lords, ignores the humanity of people like me who are forced to flee their homes and families in search of safety. It is misguided and cruel and will deny vital protection to men, women and children fleeing torture, war and persecution.

With the introduction of the bill, the government wants you to think it’s easy for refugees to go through the ‘proper channels’ to enter the UK, but that’s just not true. There was no visa I could apply for, no embassy queue I could join. Even if there had been, it would have been far too dangerous for me to alert anyone to the fact that I was trying to leave Sudan. I barely made it to the UK and when I did, I was broken, both mentally and physically.

Earlier this month, the House of Lords human rights committee warned that the bill is illegal, and would deny most refugees access to the asylum system, as well as breaking international human rights obligations. Yet instead of tackling issues that are worsening the lives of people in the UK, such as the cost of living crisis, this government continues to scapegoat vulnerable people, spending billions of pounds on hostile policies that harm refugees, trafficking victims and survivors of torture.

The hateful language that some politicians and newspapers use to describe people like me has been deeply hurtful, but I know that most British people don’t think like this. I have known compassion and kindness, and over the years friends, neighbours and colleagues have welcomed, supported and helped me to recover.

I grew up in Sudan in the early 2000s and watched it being ripped apart by division and hatred. I worked as a union leader at a university in Khartoum, the capital city. It was my job to ensure that members of all tribes and regions – from North to South Sudan, and East to West – were represented and included in our academic institutions. Sudan is no stranger to oppression and violence and was still reeling from 22 years of civil war. I soon found myself caught up in the increasing tensions and suspicions between students and the authorities. I was regularly detained and interrogated by military officers who wanted to know about my politics and find out if any of the students were taking part in anti-regime activities.

Over time the harassment intensified, and I was being subjected to torture. I had to make the impossible decision to try and escape to save not only my own life but the lives of my family and friends. I was forced to take any chance I could – I hid in lorries for days and eventually ended up on a dangerous, overcrowded, and flimsy dinghy.

But landing on the shores of Britain was not the end of my journey. The asylum process in this country was another battle. I was detained in cold, isolated immigration detention cells – not too dissimilar from the ones I had been tortured in back in Sudan – and trapped in limbo in the asylum backlog for years before I finally received status. But with the aid of therapy offered through charities like Freedom from Torture and help and support from community workers, I was able to slowly rebuild my life. Today, I live in Newcastle with my wife and children and run my own successful security company.

Under the new bill, people who arrive in the UK in small boats, in lorries or stowing away on trains and planes will be punished and unable to claim asylum. The government claims that this will stop people like me from trying to reach this country. But speaking from my own experience, nobody gets into a flimsy inflatable to cross one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world unless there really is no other option. No matter how cruel the anti-refugee policies are, nothing will stop people trying to reach safety.

It's time that this government learns that we must always approach refugee policies with compassion and fairness. This is why I am calling for this bill to be scrapped, and its cruel policies to be abandoned. Instead, we must rebuild an asylum system that is welcoming to people who need our help.