World
LGBTQ Venezuelan migrants in Colombia struggle to survive
People with HIV again suffering from Kaposi’s sarcoma
BOGOTÁ, Colombia — Edgar García and his partner, Dannys Torres, on Oct. 3, 2018, used a canoe to cross the Arauca River that marks the Venezuela-Colombia border.
García was a member of the board of directors of Alianza Lambda de Venezuela, a Venezuelan LGBTQ rights group, before he fled Venezuela. Torres worked as a hairdresser in Caracas, the Venezuelan capital.
The couple now lives in Rafael Uribe Uribe, a working-class neighborhood in Bogotá, the Colombian capital.
Torres continues to work as a hairdresser. García most recently worked for a telecommunications company.
“We are settled here in Bogotá,” García told the Washington Blade on Sept. 21 during an interview with him and Torres that took place at a shopping mall near their home. “You have your life here.”
García and Torres are two of the more than 5.4 million Venezuelans who the Coordination Platform for Migrants and Refugees from Venezuela say have left their country as of November 2020 because of its ongoing economic and political crises.
Statistics from the Colombian government indicate there are currently more than 1.7 million Venezuelans in the country. More than 50 percent of them live in Bogotá and the departments of Norte de Santander, Atlántico and Antioquia.
Colombian President Iván Duque in February announced the country would legally recognize Venezuelan migrants who are registered with the government.
Sources in Colombia with whom the Blade has spoken say there are likely many more Venezuelan migrants in the country than official statistics indicate. Venezuelan migrants who are LGBTQ and/or living with HIV remain disproportionately vulnerable to discrimination and violence and often lack access to health care and formal employment.
A report the Red de Movilidad Humana LGBTI+—a network of advocacy groups in Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Chile, Brazil, Argentina, Guatemala and Mexico—published with the support of the U.N. Refugee Agency notes sex trafficking and even death are among the myriad threats that LGBTQ migrants from Venezuela face once they enter Colombia. The report indicates they also face discrimination in shelters because of their sexual orientation and gender identity, sexual violence and a lack of access to the Colombian judicial system.
Trans woman left Venezuela ‘in search of a better quality of life’
Vanesa, a 25-year-old transgender woman from the Venezuelan city of Maracaibo, came to Colombia eight years ago “in search of a better quality of life.”
She told the Blade on Sept. 14 during an interview at Fundación de Atención Inclusiva, Social y Humana (FUVADIS)—an organization in Barranquilla, a city in Atlántico department that is near the mouth of the Magdalena River in northern Colombia, that serves Venezuelan migrants—she entered Colombia near Maicao, a city in La Guajira department via an informal border crossing known as a “trocha.” Vanesa said she was nearly kidnapped.
“The people who were standing on the sides (of the “trocha”) who ask you for money were supposedly security,” she said. “There was no security. They left me there because I was trans. They said a lot of ugly things. They assaulted me, including one (man) who was not going to let me go. They wanted me to kidnap me or have me there to do whatever they wanted to me.”
Vanesa said a woman helped her escape.
“The experience was horrible,” she said.
Vanesa traveled to Cartagena, a popular tourist destination that is less than two hours southwest of Barranquilla, and began to work at her friend’s hair salon. Vanesa told the Blade that her friend’s mother “never liked me because … she is a Christian.”
Vanesa now lives in Barranquilla and supports herself through video chats. Vanesa also competes in local beauty pageants and is able to send money to her mother in Venezuela.
“I work here,” she said. “I am relatively well off.”
Andy, a trans man from Venezuela’s Maracay state, left Venezuela four years ago with his partner and their daughter. Andy, like Vanesa, entered Colombia via a “trocha” near Maicao.
“I migrated because the situation was becoming worse and worse each day,” Andy told the Blade on Sept. 14 as he attended a workshop that Caribe Afirmativo, an LGBTQ group in northern Colombia, organized at a Barranquilla hotel.
Caribe Afirmativo has opened three “Casas Afirmativos” in Barranquilla, Maicao and Medellín that provide access to health care and other services to Venezuelan migrants who are LGBTQ and/or living with HIV/AIDS. Caribe Afirmativo also operates several “Casas de Paz” throughout northern Colombia that support the implementation of an LGBTQ-inclusive peace agreement between the government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia that came into force in 2016.
Andy said his work in Venezuela allowed him to learn how “to sell whatever product,” but he told the Blade he struggled to find a job once he arrived in Colombia.
Andy told the Blade that he, his partner and their daughter now have stable housing in Barranquilla. Andy said he also has received a job offer in Medellín, the country’s second-largest city that is the capital of Antioquia department.
Jesús Gómez is a 33-year-old gay man from Venezuela’s Trujillo state in the Venezuelan Andes that are close to the country’s border with Colombia.
He previously worked with Venezuela Diversa, a Venezuelan LGBTQ advocacy group, and accepted a position with the municipality of Chacao that is part of Caracas. Gómez, whose mother was born in Colombia, also joined a student protest movement against the government.
Gómez fled to Colombia and is pursuing his asylum case with the help of UNHCR.
“I feel bad emotionally, but I am well-off compared to other people,” he told the Blade on Sept. 16 during an interview at a hotel in Cúcuta, a city in Norte de Santander department that is a few miles from the country’s border with Venezuela. “I am working to help other people who are in the same situation.”
Gómez in December is scheduled to graduate from nursing school. He also works with Fundación Censurados, a Cúcuta-based HIV/AIDS service organization that works with Venezuelan migrants, and has supported other organizations in the area that serve them.
FUVADIS Executive Director Luis Meneses, like Gómez, was an LGBTQ activist in Venezuela.
Meneses, who is from Venezuela’s Zulia state, in 2010 unsuccessfully ran for Venezuela’s National Assembly. Meneses in February 2018 fled to Colombia because of the “political persecution” he said he suffered.
“Discrimination and prejudice against me began when I came out to defend LGBTI rights,” Meneses told the Blade on Sept. 14 during an interview at his office.
Meneses in August 2018 launched FUVADIS, which receives support from groups that includes UNHCR and the International Organization for Migration. FUVADIS provides health care, antiretroviral drugs and a host of other services to Venezuelan migrants with HIV/AIDS and other populations that include sex workers. Vanessa and nearly 900 other FUVADIS clients are LGBTQ.
“We cannot work for the migrant population by only giving them humanitarian assistance,” said Meneses. “It’s also about guaranteeing access to their rights.”
Venezuelans with HIV/AIDS die because of lack of medications
The New York-based Aid for AIDS International estimates more than 10,000 Venezuelans with HIV have left the country in recent years. Activists and health care service providers in Venezuela with whom the Blade has spoken in recent years have said people with HIV/AIDS in the country have died because of a lack of antiretroviral drugs.
The Venezuelan government has also targeted HIV/AIDS service organizations.
Members of Venezuela’s General Directorate of Military Counterintelligence in January raided the offices of Azul Positivo, an HIV/AIDS service organization and arrested President Johan León Reyes and five other staff members. Venezuelan police on Feb. 15, 2019, raided the offices of Fundación Mavid, another HIV/AIDS service organization in Valencia, a city in Carabobo state, and arrested three staffers after they confiscated donated infant formula and medications for people with HIV/AIDS
Deyvi Galvis Vásquez, a doctor who is the manager of prevention and testing for AIDS Healthcare Foundation Colombia on Sept. 17 during an interview at AHF’s Cúcuta clinic showed the Blade pictures of Venezuelans with HIV/AIDS in Colombia who had cases of Kaposi’s sarcoma.
“The conditions are of extreme vulnerability,” said Galvis.
Andrés Cardona, director of Fundación Ancla, a Medellín-based group that works with migrants and other vulnerable groups, during a Sept. 13 interview with the Blade in his office echoed Galvis. Cardona added stigma specifically against Venezuelans with HIV/AIDS is one of the myriad issues he and his colleagues confront.
“The issue of the elimination of HIV also implies not only an issue of communication and prevention, but also an issue of effective attention,” said Cardona. “We have our conservative culture, an idea that the Venezuelans who are coming are going to give us HIV.”
“This is totally discriminatory,” he added.
Cardona, like those inside Venezuela with whom the Blade has spoken, said there are no services in the country for people with HIV/AIDS.
“There are many Venezuelan migrants with HIV who enter Colombia, because they are going to die if they don’t,” he said.
AHF operates clinics throughout Colombia
AHF operates other facilities in Bogotá and in the cities of Bucaramanga, Yopal, Valledupar and Ríohacha. The organization, along with the Colombian Red Cross and the government of Santander department, in March began to distribute condoms, food and water and offer rapid HIV tests to Venezuelan migrants who travel through Páramo de Berlín, a high plateau in the Colombian Andes through which a highway between Cúcuta and Bucaramanga passes.
AHF, among other things, offers migrants rapid HIV and syphilis tests and counseling for people who test positive. AHF also provides lab tests, formula for children of mothers with HIV and health care with an “interdisciplinary health care team.”
AHF Colombia Country Program Manager Liliana Andrade Forero and AHF Colombia Data Manager Sandra Avila Mira on Sept. 20 noted to the Blade during an interview at AHF’s Bogotá clinic that upwards of 2,000 migrants currently receive care from the organization. They also pointed out that 1,952 of them are taking antiretroviral drugs the Brazilian government donates.
Galvis noted to the Blade that many of AHF’s patients also have access to mental health care and social workers.
“AHF’s policy is to reach out to everyone,” he said.
Pandemic has made migrants even more vulnerable
Galvis, Fundación Censurados Director Juan Carlos Archila and other Colombian HIV/AIDS service providers with whom the Blade spoke say the pandemic has made Venezuelan migrants with HIV/AIDS in the country even more vulnerable.
Lockdowns prevented sex workers and others who work in the informal economy from earning money. A “pico y género” rule implemented by Bogotá Mayor Claudia López that allowed women to leave their homes on even days and men to leave their homes on odd days sparked criticism among trans activists.
Archila, who is a nurse, on Sept. 16 told the Blade during an interview at a Cúcuta hotel the pandemic has also left Censurados in a precarious situation.
“We endured practically two years with the doors closed, with expenses increasing,” he said. “The need of people who come to us for the issue of HIV remains, and yet we are all trying to cope with the situation.”
Andrade noted AHF’s Bogotá was closed for several months at the beginning of the pandemic because of the city’s strict lockdown.
The pandemic also forced FUVADIS to close its offices in March 2020, but Meneses told the Blade the organization was able to see a handful of patients at a time. He said “basic humanitarian assistance” that included hygiene kits and food were among the things that FUVADIS was able to provide its patients during the pandemic.
“Understanding how the situation for the LGBTI community, people with HIV, the migrant population and the refugee population is, we could not allow (our services) to shut down,” Meneses told the Blade.
Cuba
Cuban lawmakers to consider simplifying process for trans people to change IDs
National Assembly in July will reportedly debate proposal
Cuban lawmakers are reportedly poised to consider a proposal that would allow transgender people to legally change the gender marker on their ID documents without surgery.
Cubadebate, a government-run website, on May 11 referenced the proposal in an article about an International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, and Transphobia march in Havana that the National Center for Sexual Education organized.
Mariela Castro, the daughter of former Cuban President Raúl Castro who spearheads LGBTQ issues on the island, is CENESEX’s director.
Cubadebate notes the National Assembly in July will consider an amendment to the country’s Civil Registry Law that “for the first time would allow citizens to determine the sex on their identification cards without the need for a court order or gender assignment surgery.”
Argentina, Uruguay, Germany, and Malta are among the countries that allow trans people to legally change their name and gender without surgery.
Cuba’s national health care system has offered free sex-reassignment surgery since 2008, but activists who are critical of Mariela Castro and CENESEX have said access to these procedures is limited. Mariela Castro, who is also a member of the National Assembly, in 2013 voted against a measure to add sexual orientation to Cuba’s labor code because it did not include gender identity.
The Cuban constitution bans discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity, among other factors. Authorities routinely harass and detain activists who publicly criticize the government.
Chile
Chilean lawmakers back report that calls for suspension of program for trans children
Country’s first transgender congresswoman condemned May 15 vote
The Chilean Chamber of Deputies on May 15 approved a report that recommends the immediate suspension of a program that provides psychosocial support to transgender and gender non-conforming children and adolescents and their parents.
The 56-31 vote in favor of the Investigation Commission No. 57’s recommendations for the Gender Identity Support Program sparked outrage among activists in Chile and around the world. Six lawmakers abstained.
The report proposes the Health Ministry issue a resolution against puberty blockers, cross-hormonalization, and other hormonal treatments for minors, regardless of whether they have been diagnosed with gender dysphoria. The report also suggests Chilean educational institutions should not respect trans students’ chosen names.
The report, among other recommendations, calls for a review of the background of all minors who are currently receiving hormone treatments. The report also calls for the reformulation of hormone therapy guidelines and sending this background information to the comptroller general.
Report ‘sets an ominous precedent’
Frente Amplio Congresswoman Emilia Schneider, the first trans woman elected to the Chilean Congress and a member of the commission, sharply criticized her colleagues who voted for the report.
“Today in the Chamber of Deputies the report of hatred against trans people was approved; a report that seeks to roll back programs so relevant for children, for youth, such as the Gender Identity Support Program; a program that, in addition, comes from the government of (the late-President) Sebastián Piñera,” Schneider told the Washington Blade. ”This is unacceptable because the right-wing yields to the pressures of the ultra-right and leaves the trans community in a very complex position.”
Schneider noted “this report is not binding; that is, its recommendations do not necessarily have to be taken into account, but it sets an ominous precedent.”
“We are going backwards on such basic issues as the recognition of the social name of trans students in educational establishments,” she said.
Ignacia Oyarzún, president of Organizing Trans Diversities, a Chilean trans rights group, echoed Schneider’s criticisms. commented to the Blade.
“We regret today’s shameful action in the Chamber of Deputies, where the CEI-57 report issued by the Republican Party was approved in a context of lies, misinformation and misrepresentation of reality,” Oyarzún told the Blade. “This only promotes the regression of public policies and conquered rights that have managed to save the lives of thousands of children in the last time.”
Oyarzún added the “slogan ‘children first’ proves to be an empty phrase without content used by those who today promote measures that push to suicide a significant number of children for the fact of being trans.”
The Movement for Homosexual Integration and Liberation, a Chilean LGBTQ rights group known by the acronym Movilh also condemned the approval of the report, calling it “transphobic” and accusing the commission of omitting the opinions of organizations and families that support the current policies.
Movilh notes lawmakers approved both the Gender Identity Law and Circular 812, which promotes respect for trans students’ rights, within the framework of an agreement with the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.
“The text of the approved report is scandalous, because it seeks to take away the access to health to trans minors, including denying them the psychosocial accompaniment that also includes their respective families,” said María José Cumplido, executive director of Fundación Iguales, another Chilean LGBTQ advocacy group. “Likewise, it attempts against school inclusion, since it intends to eliminate something as essential as the use of the social name in educational spaces. In short, it takes away rights and freedoms to trans people, especially to minors.”
Cumplido, like Schneider, pointed out that “although its content is not binding, we will be alert to the political and legislative consequences that it may produce and we will continue working to avoid setbacks with respect to the rights of trans people.”
The report’s approval reflects a global trend that has seen neighboring Argentina, the U.S., and other countries reserve policies for trans and nonbinary young people. The Peruvian Health Ministry recently classified gender identity as a mental illness, and lawmakers have passed a law that prevents trans people from using public restrooms based on their identity.
photo by Michael K. Lavers)
Experts and human rights activists warn the suspension of Chile’s Gender Identity Support Program and other programs could adversely impact the mental health of trans and nonbinary children who already face high levels of discrimination and are at heightened risk to die by suicide.
“We will defend the Gender Identity Support Program and the right to exist of trans children and youth across the country,” said Schneider. “I want to reassure the trans families of our country that we will not rest until our rights are respected and that we can continue advancing because there is still much to be conquered.”
Iran
Underground queer network challenges Iranian regime
Homosexuality remains punishable by death in country
While global powers negotiate with Iran’s regime under Ayatollah Ali Khamenei to curb its advancing nuclear program, the oppressed LGBTQ community is building and operating a secret underground network to resist state-coerced sex reassignment surgeries.
These surgeries, mandated for gay and lesbian people as a state-sanctioned alternative to execution for homosexuality, are part of Iran’s penal code that criminalizes consensual same-sex sexual relations. The network provides safe houses, forged identification documents, and covert communication channels to protect members from government raids and imprisonment.
Precise data on LGBTQ people prosecuted in Iran for resisting state-coerced sex reassignment surgeries over the past decade remains elusive, as the regime’s opaque judicial system obscures such cases under vague charges like “corruption on earth” or “sodomy.” NGOs, including 6Rang, report that thousands of gay and lesbian Iranians face pressure to undergo surgeries to avoid execution for same-sex conduct, with resistance often leading to arrests or harassment for violating gender norms.
Zahra Seddiqi Hamedani and Elham Choubdar, two prominent activists, in 2022 were sentenced to death for their social media advocacy, charged with “corruption” and “human trafficking,” though their convictions were overturned in 2023. Similarly, Rezvaneh Mohammadi in 2019 received a five-year sentence for promoting “homosexual relations,” a charge hinting at resistance to the regime’s heteronormative mandates.
Arsham Parsi in 2003 escalated his clandestine fight for Iran’s LGBTQ community by launching Voice Celebration, a secret Yahoo chat group where 50 queer Iranians, using aliases, exchanged coded messages to evade the regime’s surveillance. Operating like operatives in a shadow network, participants shared text messages about human rights and survival tactics, knowing a single breach could lead to torture or execution. Parsi, then 23, orchestrated the group’s encrypted communications, building a virtual lifeline that connected isolated individuals across the country until his cover was nearly blown, forcing a desperate escape in early 2005.
Parsi in an exchange with the Washington Blade revealed a defiant undercurrent in Iran, a movement too elusive to be called traditional resistance yet pulsing with covert rebellion against the regime.
The state’s relentless push to force gay men into coerced surgeries — marketed as a “solution” to their sexuality — seeks to erase their identities through enforced conformity. Parsi, steering the International Railroad for Queer Refugees, disclosed how queer Iranians fight back with clandestine measures: Underground education to counter state propaganda, discreet psychological support to fortify resilience, and encrypted networks to forge secret alliances. These efforts, veiled to evade regime detection, dismantle the state’s narrative with every hidden signal and guarded connection.
“We are working to create a true grassroots resistance by empowering people to understand their identity, seek safe alternatives, and reclaim their agency despite the oppressive context,” said Parsi. “The Iranian regime’s policies are built on denial of sexual orientation and a forced alignment with a binary gender model.”
“Rather than recognizing gay, lesbian, or bisexual individuals, the system pressures them — particularly gay men — to undergo irreversible surgeries in order to be legally tolerated,” he added. “This systemic violence creates deep psychological harm and compels many to resist, even quietly, to protect their truth. The lack of legal recognition and the threat of arrest, harassment, or blackmail fuels the underground defiance we see today. It’s not only resistance for survival — it’s a rejection of state-imposed identity suppression.”
IRQR, guided by Parsi, for nearly two decades has operated as a lifeline, orchestrating daring escapes and running a covert network for Iran’s hunted queer community.
Parsi said his work relies on secret, encrypted channels — meticulously managed to avoid detection — to funnel at-risk individuals to safety, smuggle life-saving information, secure hidden safe houses, and deliver emotional support. Every operation faces threats not only from the regime’s security forces but also from Basij militia operatives who masquerade as queer individuals to infiltrate networks, heightening the peril for those marked by their identities.
Black-clad Basij militia members respond at the first signs of defiance; tearing through crowds on motorcycles with batons and guns at the ready, poised to crush any challenge to Iran’s regime. These paramilitary volunteers, bound by fierce loyalty to the Islamic Republic, serve as the state’s enforcers, their plainclothes operatives slipping into dissident networks to root out the defiant.
The Basij fill queer Iranians with dread; their so-called morality patrols and digital traps stalking those who dare to exist outside the regime’s rigid norms.
“Their goal is not only to gather intelligence but to undermine, divide, and cancel the work of activists and organizations like ours,” said Parsi. “This divide-and-conquer strategy is designed to break solidarity and generate mistrust.”
“We have seen numerous cases where trusted circles were compromised by these informants, and it has made our work — and survival — even more complex,” he further noted. “Despite this, we persist. Through our underground connections, we have helped thousands of queer Iranians seek safety, community, and ultimately, freedom.”
Parsi told the Blade that international support — through funding, advocacy, policy pressure, or amplifying his stories — can significantly strengthen his work to protect Iran’s persecuted queer community. He emphasized IRQR operates with limited resources, making global solidarity essential to improve outreach, enhance safety measures, and respond swiftly to those in need. Parsi underscored such support brings visibility to the crisis in Iran, reminding those at risk they are not forgotten while exerting pressure on a regime that thrives on silence and fear.
One of the things that Parsi’s underground network offers is online workshops that educate queer Iranians about how they can remain beyond the regime’s reach.
He said these sessions, designed for safety and accessibility, encompass peer support, mental health education, digital security training, and guidance on refugee pathways. Parsi explained the workshops give vulnerable Iranians the tools to navigate persecution, defy state surveillance, and pursue escape, exposing the resilience of a community under relentless scrutiny.
“Due to the high risk of persecution in Iran, traditional protests are not feasible,” said Parsi. “Instead, acts of resistance take quieter forms — like anonymous storytelling which are just as powerful in building awareness and connection within the community. While discreet, these activities help create a sense of solidarity and empowerment among queer Iranians.”
Parsi, undeterred by Iran’s unyielding regime, asserted with measured confidence that while underground acts of defiance — living authentically, supporting one another, resisting forced medicalisation — may not shift policy overnight, they are already improving lives. He stressed these quiet rebellions that queer Iranians stage challenge the regime’s narrative of shame and invisibility, forging a resilient foundation for future change. Each act, Parsi emphasized, dismantles the regime’s grip, offering hope to those navigating a landscape of relentless oppression.
“At IRQR, we view each life saved, each network built, and each truth spoken as a small but powerful act of resistance,” said Parsi. “These are the seeds of future liberation. Over time, as they multiply and gain visibility — locally and internationally — they will help reshape the landscape for queer Iranians.”
ILGA Asia Executive Director Henry Koh said queer Iranians’ underground resistance is a powerful assertion of bodily autonomy and self-determination. He described it as a deeply courageous act in a regime where visibility invites immense personal risk, from arrest to execution.
When asked by the Blade if the Iranian regime’s punitive measures against openly queer people fuel underground resistance, Koh responded unequivocally.
“Absolutely,” he said. “The climate of criminalization and repression leaves little safe space for queer people to live openly. This forces many into secrecy or underground networks as a means of survival, resistance, and mutual support. Such conditions are not only unjust but also profoundly harmful to the well-being of LGBTIQ+ individuals.”
“It is important to distinguish between affirming gender-affirming care and any form of coercive medical intervention,” he added. “When states or authorities mandate medical procedures as a condition for recognition or safety, it constitutes a grave violation of human rights. Gender identity is deeply personal, and no institution should override an individual’s self-defined identity.”
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