En El Salvador, la violencia contra la población LGBTQ no ha disminuido: ha mutado. Lo que antes se expresaba en crímenes de odio, hoy se manifiesta en discriminación institucional, abandono y silencio estatal. Mientras el discurso oficial evita cualquier referencia a inclusión o diversidad, las cifras muestran un panorama alarmante.

Según el Informe 2025 sobre las vulneraciones de los derechos humanos de las personas LGBTQ en El Salvador, elaborado por el Observatorio de Derechos Humanos LGBTIQ+ de ASPIDH, con el apoyo de Hivos y Arcus Foundation, desde el 1 de enero al 22 de septiembre de 2025 se registraron 301 denuncias de vulneraciones de derechos.

El departamento de San Salvador concentra 155 de esas denuncias, reflejando la magnitud del problema en la capital.

Violencia institucionalizada: el Estado como principal agresor

El informe revela que las formas más recurrentes de violencia son la discriminación (57 por ciento), seguida de intimidaciones y amenazas (13 por ciento), y agresiones físicas (10 por ciento). Pero el dato más inquietante está en quiénes ejercen esa violencia.

Los cuerpos uniformados, encargados de proteger a la población, son los principales perpetradores:

• 31.1 por ciento corresponde a la Policía Nacional Civil (PNC),

• 26.67 por ciento al Cuerpo de Agentes Municipales (CAM),

• 12.22 por ciento a militares desplegados en las calles bajo el régimen de excepción.

A ello se suma un 21.11 por ciento de agresiones cometidas por personal de salud pública, especialmente por enfermeras, lo que demuestra que la discriminación alcanza incluso los espacios que deberían garantizar la vida y la dignidad.

Loidi Guardado, representante de ASPIDH, comparte con Washington Blade un caso que retrata la cotidianidad de estas violencias:

“Una enfermera en la clínica VICITS de San Miguel, en la primera visita me reconoció que la persona era hijo de un promotor de salud y fue amable. Pero luego de realizarle un hisopado cambió su actitud a algo despectiva y discriminativa. Esto le sucedió a un hombre gay.”

Este tipo de episodios reflejan un deterioro en la atención pública, impulsado por una postura gubernamental que rechaza abiertamente cualquier enfoque de inclusión, y tacha la educación de género como una “ideología” a combatir.

El discurso del Ejecutivo, que se opone a toda iniciativa con perspectiva de diversidad, ha tenido consecuencias directas: el retroceso en derechos humanos, el cierre de espacios de denuncia, y una mayor vulnerabilidad para quienes pertenecen a comunidades diversas.

El miedo, la desconfianza y el exilio silencioso

El estudio también señala que el 53.49 por ciento de las víctimas son mujeres trans, seguidas por hombres gays (26.58 por ciento). Sin embargo, la mayoría de las agresiones no llega a conocimiento de las autoridades.

“En todos los ámbitos de la vida —salud, trabajo, esparcimiento— las personas LGBT nos vemos intimidadas, violentadas por parte de muchas personas. Sin embargo, las amenazas y el miedo a la revictimización nos lleva a que no denunciemos. De los casos registrados en el observatorio, el 95.35 por ciento no denunció ante las autoridades competentes”, explica Guardado.

La organización ASPIDH atribuye esta falta de denuncia a varios factores: miedo a represalias, desconfianza en las autoridades, falta de sensibilidad institucional, barreras económicas y sociales, estigma y discriminación.

Además, la ausencia de acompañamiento agrava la situación, producto del cierre de numerosas organizaciones defensoras por falta de fondos y por las nuevas normativas que las obligan a registrarse como “agentes extranjeros”.

Varias de estas organizaciones —antes vitales para el acompañamiento psicológico, legal y educativo— han migrado hacia Guatemala y Costa Rica ante la imposibilidad de operar en territorio salvadoreño.

Educación negada, derechos anulados

Mónica Linares, directora ejecutiva de ASPIDH, lamenta el deterioro de los programas educativos que antes ofrecían una oportunidad de superación para las personas trans:

“Hubo un programa del ACNUR que lamentablemente, con todo el cierre de fondos que hubo a partir de las declaraciones del presidente Trump y del presidente Bukele, pues muchas de estas instancias cerraron por el retiro de fondos del USAID.”

Ese programa —añade— beneficiaba a personas LGBTQ desde la educación primaria hasta el nivel universitario, abriendo puertas que hoy permanecen cerradas.

Actualmente, muchas personas trans apenas logran completar la primaria o el bachillerato, en un sistema educativo donde la discriminación y el acoso escolar siguen siendo frecuentes.

Organizaciones en resistencia

Las pocas organizaciones que aún operan en el país han optado por trabajar en silencio, procurando no llamar la atención del gobierno. “Buscan pasar desapercibidas”, señala Linares, “para evitar conflictos con autoridades que las ven como si no fueran sujetas de derechos”.

Desde el Centro de Intercambio y Solidaridad (CIS), su cofundadora Leslie Schuld coincide. “Hay muchas organizaciones de derechos humanos y periodistas que están en el exilio. Felicito a las organizaciones que mantienen la lucha, la concientización. Porque hay que ver estrategias, porque se está siendo silenciado, nadie puede hablar; hay capturas injustas, no hay derechos.”

Schuld agrega que el CIS continuará apoyando con un programa de becas para personas trans, con el fin de fomentar su educación y autonomía económica. Sin embargo, admite que las oportunidades laborales en el país son escasas, y la exclusión estructural continúa.

Matar sin balas: la anulación de la existencia

“En efecto, no hay datos registrados de asesinatos a mujeres trans o personas LGBTIQ+ en general, pero ahora, con la vulneración de derechos que existe en El Salvador, se está matando a esta población con la anulación de esta.”, reflexiona Linares.

Esa “anulación” a la que se refiere Linares resume el panorama actual: una violencia que no siempre deja cuerpos, pero sí vacíos. La negación institucional, la falta de políticas públicas, y la exclusión social convierten la vida cotidiana en un acto de resistencia para miles de salvadoreños LGBTQ.

En un país donde el Ejecutivo ha transformado la narrativa de derechos en una supuesta “ideología”, la diversidad se ha convertido en una amenaza política, y los cuerpos diversos, en un campo de batalla. Mientras el gobierno exalta la “seguridad” como su mayor logro, la población LGBTQ vive una inseguridad constante, no solo física, sino también emocional y social.

El Salvador, dicen los activistas, no necesita más silencio. Necesita reconocer que la verdadera paz no se impone con fuerza de uniformados, sino con justicia, respeto y dignidad.

“When the sun rose on 1 Nov., 2025, Pride morning in Palapye, the open space where the march was scheduled to begin was empty. I stood there trying to look calm, but inside, my chest felt tight. I was worried that no one would come. It was the first-ever Pride in Palapye, a semi-urban village where cultural norms, religious beliefs, and tradition are deeply woven into everyday life.

I kept asking myself if we were being naive. Maybe people weren’t ready. Perhaps fear was going to win. For the first 30 minutes, it was me, a couple of religious leaders and a handful of parents. That was it. The silence was loud, and every second felt like it stretched into hours. I expected to see the queer community showing up in numbers, draped in color and excitement. Instead, only the wind was moving.

But slowly, gently, just like courage often arrives, people started to show up with a rainbow flag appearing from behind a tree and a hesitant wave from someone standing at a distance.

That’s when I understood that people weren’t late, just that they were afraid. And their fear made sense. Showing up openly in a small community like Palapye is a radical act. It disrupts silence. It challenges norms. It forces visibility. Visibility is powerful, but it is never easy. We marched with courage, pulling from the deepest parts of ourselves. We marched with laughter that cracked through the tension. We marched not because it was easy, but because it was necessary,” narrates activist Seipone Boitshwarelo from AGANG Community Network, which focuses on families and friends of LGBTIQ+ people in Botswana. She is also a BW PRIDE Awards nominee for the Healing and Justice Award, a category which acknowledges contributions to wellness, mental health, and healing for the LGBTIQ+ community across Botswana.

Queer Pride is Botswana Pride!

Pride is both a celebration and a political statement. It came about as a response to systemic oppression, particularly the criminalization and marginalization of LGBTIQ+ people globally, including in Botswana at some point. It is part of the recognition, equality, and assertion of human rights. It also reminds us that liberation and equality are not automatically universal, and continued activism is necessary. A reminder of the famous saying by Fannie Lou Hamer, “Nobody is free until everybody’s free.”

The 2023 Constitutional Review process made one thing evident, which is that Botswana still struggles to acknowledge the existence of LGBTIQ+ people as full citizens. Instead of creating a democratic space for every voice, the process sidelined and erased an entire community. In Bradley Fortuin’s analysis of the Constitutional review and its final report, he highlighted how this erasure directly contradicts past court decisions that explicitly affirmed the right of LGBTIQ+ people to participate fully and openly in civic life. When the state chooses to ignore court orders and ignore communities, it becomes clear that visibility must be reclaimed through alternative means. This is why AGANG Community Network embarked on Palapye Pride. It is a radical insistence on belonging, rooted in community and strengthened through intersectionality with families, friends, and allies who refuse to let our stories be erased.

Motho ke motho ka batho!

One of the most strategic decisions made by the AGANG Community Network was to engage parents, religious leaders, and local community members, recognizing their value in inclusion and support. Thus, their presence in the march was not symbolic, but it was intentional.

Funding for human rights and LGBTIQ+ advocacy has been negatively impacted since January 2025, and current funding is highly competitive, uneven and scarce, especially for grassroots organizations in Botswana. The Palapye Pride event was not funded, but community members still showed up and donated water, a sound system, and someone even printed materials. This event happened because individuals believed in its value and essence. It was a reminder that activism is not always measured in budgets but in willingness and that “motho ke motho ka batho!” (“A person is a person because of other people!”).

Freedom of association for all

In March 2016, in the the Attorney General of Botswana v. Rammoge and 19 Others case, also known as the LEGABIBO registration case, the Botswana Court of Appeal stated that “members of the gay, lesbian, and transgender community, although no doubt a small minority, and unacceptable to some on religious or other grounds, form part of the rich diversity of any nation and are fully entitled in Botswana, as in any other progressive state, to the constitutional protection of their dignity.” Freedom of association, assembly, and expression is a foundation for civic and democratic participation, as it allows all citizens to organize around shared interests, raise their collective voice, and influence societal and cultural change, as well as legislative reform.

The Botswana courts, shortly after in 2021, declared that criminalizing same-sex sexual relations is unconstitutional because they violated rights to privacy, liberty, dignity, equality, and nondiscrimination. Despite these legal wins, social stigma, cultural, and religious opposition continue to affect the daily lived experience of LGBTIQ+ people in Botswana.

The continuation of a declaration

AGANG Community Network is committed to continuing this work and creating safe and supportive spaces for LGBTIQ+ people, their families, friend, and allies. Pride is not just a day of fun. It is a movement, a declaration of queer existence and recognition of allyship. It is healing and reconciliation while amplifying queer joy.

Seipone Boitshwarelo is a feminist, activist, social justice healer, and founder of AGANG Community Network. Bradley Fortuin is a social justice activist and a consultant at the Southern Africa Litigation Center.

A Jamaican LGBTQ rights group is raising funds to help victims of Hurricane Melissa.

The funds that Equality for All Foundation Jamaica is raising through the Rustin Fund for Global Equality will “provide emergency housing, transportation, essentials, and rebuilding support for those in our community most in need.”

“Hurricane Melissa has caused extensive devastation across Jamaica, leaving many families and communities struggling to recover,” said the Equality for All Foundation Jamaica in a social media post that announced the fund. “Among those affected are LGBTQI+ Jamaicans, many of whom already experience homelessness, displacement, and further barriers to accessing public relief and safe shelter due to fear or past experiences of discrimination.”

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Melissa on Oct. 28 made landfall in Jamaica’s Westmoreland Parish with sustained winds of 185 mph.

The BBC notes the Category 5 hurricane that caused widespread destruction in western Jamaica killed at least 28 people on the island. Melissa also killed more than 30 people in Haiti and in the Dominican Republic.

Heavy rains and strong winds caused widespread damage in eastern Cuba after Melissa made landfall in the country’s Santiago de Cuba Province on Oct. 29. The hurricane also impacted the Bahamas, the Turks and Caicos Islands, and Bermuda.

Jamaica is among the countries in which consensual same-sex sexual relations remain criminalized. Discrimination and violence based on sexual orientation and gender identity is also commonplace in Jamaica, as the Washington Blade has previously reported.

“Jamaica has just endured one of its worst natural disasters with the passage of Category 5 Hurricane Melissa,” wrote Craig Rijkaard, a member of the Rustin Fund’s board of directors, on Oct. 29 in a post on the organization’s website. “The damage and disruptions across central and western parishes are immense — flooding, road blockages, power outages, loss of buildings/homes, mass evacuations, and tragic loss of life.”

“LGBTQI+ Jamaicans are especially vulnerable, as one in three has experienced homelessness or displacement,” added Rijkaard. “Unfortunately, government-led relief efforts do not always work well for our communities, as many LGBTQI+ Jamaicans are afraid to access public services due to fear and the lived reality of discrimination — over a third report they would avoid emergency aid for this reason.”

Click here to donate to the fund.