Achen, not her real name, is a soft-spoken 26-year-old from northern Uganda. She never imagined she would run a business, let alone one that would allow her to earn enough to send her younger sister to school. For years, she moved from shelter to shelter, surviving day by day, evicted from rental rooms, beaten on the street, and regularly denied healthcare simply for being a transgender woman.

When Uganda passed the Anti-Homosexuality Act in 2023, along with other trans persons, Achen’s fragile life collapsed further. Fear intensified, support systems buckled, and donor-funded safe spaces that once offered her hope shuttered under a wave of foreign aid suspensions. Her voice, already timid, nearly disappeared altogether.

Achen is one of transgender and gender diverse persons who have found a lifeline through the Trans Resilience and Economic Empowerment (TREE) a bold initiative by Tranz Network Uganda that has been running since 2020. Designed as an integrated support economic empowerment platform in the face of both institutional hostility and global donor shifts, TREE is one of the few initiatives/ strategies still standing amid Uganda’s increasingly restrictive environment. 

At a time when the LGBTQ+ movement in Uganda is grappling with an unprecedented dual crisis — legal persecution at home and donor withdrawal abroad — this initiative is a timely intervention to restore agency and dignity through livelihoods. Funded modestly through a patchwork of partner organizations, TREE delivers skills training, seed capital, mentorship with health services linkage/referral to trans and gender diverse people navigating the harsh realities of criminalization and economic exclusion.

Since it began, TREE has supported trans-led businesses across Uganda’s towns and cities, from Kampala to Mbarara, Lugazi to Mbale. Groups have been trained in financial literacy and record-keeping, received smartphones to enable digital transactions, and built networks of savings and credit through Village Savings and Loan Associations while creating a safe space and linkage to health services like HIV test and counseling and gender violence services. Trans-led businesses in piggery, tailoring, catering, vending, and crafts have emerged not just as sources of income but as community hubs. 

Some beneficiaries have gone on to earn certificates in accounting and financial management. Others have used their new income to rent safe housing, restart school, or reenter HIV treatment. Emergency assistance has been extended to community members facing eviction or violence, including access to medical care, relocation support, and GBV counseling. These interventions have created a ripple effect that is difficult to quantify but undeniable to those living it. One project beneficiary described TREE as “not just money, but a second chance.”

Economic marginalization has long been wielded as a weapon of control against transgender communities. Trans and gender diverse persons in Uganda are systematically excluded from the formal labor market due to discriminatory hiring practices, lack of legal recognition on IDs, and pervasive social stigma. Many are pushed into unstable, informal sectors like sex work, which not only expose them to health risks but also legal vulnerability under vague morality clauses in the law. 

In rural areas, where surveillance and stigma are even more pronounced, trans and gender diverse persons report being blacklisted from community savings groups, denied land access, and forcibly outed when seeking credit or medical attention. With nowhere else to turn, many live in cycles of poverty, dependent on shrinking NGO safety nets that were already under strain even before U.S. foreign aid cuts triggered widespread closures.

The 2025 executive order(s) issued by President Donald Trump, which halted 83 percent of USAID programs, acted like a wrecking ball through Uganda’s LGBTQ+ support ecosystem. Despite waivers allowing continued funding for basic HIV and tuberculosis treatment, the cuts included a freeze on programs that offered diversity and inclusion services. Shelters closed, staff were laid off, mental health services evaporated, and peer-led HIV prevention programs vanished. As access points to HIV testing and treatment diminished, stigma deepened. Several community members who previously accessed PrEP, lubricants, and condoms through drop-in centers began reporting new infections or treatment interruptions. In these conditions, economic resilience isn’t just about income — it’s about survival.

Williams Apako, executive director of Tranz Network Uganda, says the TREE initiative is about putting power back into the hands of trans people by recognizing that economic agency is foundational to every other form of empowerment, including health. 

“You can’t ask someone to adhere to HIV treatment or avoid risky behavior when they’re hungry, homeless, or too afraid to walk to a clinic,” he says. “This strategy is about reframing resilience not as endurance but as self-determination. Each cycle has adapted to what our communities are facing. When people lose shelter, we help them find footing again. When businesses collapse due to legal attacks, we help them pivot. The ability to make money on your own terms means you can walk away from violence, from unsafe sex, from dependence.”

Afiya, not her real name, is a 22-year-old trans woman in Lugazi. She turned to TREE after being kicked out by her family and missing her antiretroviral medication for weeks. 

“They helped me get back into care quietly,” she says. “But also, I now braid hair from home and have customers who love my work. I have my own money now. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

TREE-supported organizations, whose names have been withheld to protect participants, have trained dozens of trans persons in tailoring, hairdressing, catering, piggery, and crafts. Others are piloting mobile vending and delivery services in areas where visibility is dangerous. The project does more than provide capital. It helps beneficiaries establish business registration, form cooperatives, and, where possible, partner with sympathetic local leaders to create safer work environments while still accessing critical reproductive health services. In one region, a local health center has agreed to integrate HIV services with the TREE enterprise hub, providing discreet access to ARVs and counseling without requiring individuals to self-identify as LGBTQ+.

Hakim, not his real name, shares his journey with honesty and strength.

“As if life wasn’t already challenging enough as a trans person, I was also broke. I wanted to do something that would help me earn a living without having to depend on anyone. I’ve always had an entrepreneurial mindset, but back then, I didn’t know where to begin. I took a leap of faith and got a loan from the SACCO (Savings and Credit Cooperative Organization),, which I invested in a sisal sponge business. It took time, but it paid off. With my own hands, I’ve managed to repay the loan and sustain myself. That’s something I’m really proud of.” 

What makes the TREE project stand out is its decentralized design. Rather than imposing a single model, it tailors support to each organization’s strengths and the local risks they face. Some groups have chosen to stay low-profile, operating income-generating activities from private homes. Others have gone semi-public, advocating for inclusive budgeting from district councils. In either case, the project positions trans persons not as passive recipients of aid, but as innovators, workers, and citizens. Several beneficiaries reported, for the first time in their lives, being able to make a financial decision without external approval. One said simply, “I paid my rent without begging. That was new for me.”

Yet even as TREE offers a glimpse of hope, Apako is realistic about its scale and limits. 

“This is not a replacement for healthcare or human rights protections,” he says. “Economic empowerment can’t thrive in a vacuum. We need international solidarity, we need political pressure on the Ugandan government to respect human dignity, and we need donors, including private foundations, to rethink how they fund resilience in hostile contexts.” He notes that several TREE partners are already overwhelmed with requests for support that they cannot meet.

Uganda’s HIV strategy, guided by the Uganda AIDS Commission and supported in part by global actors like UNAIDS and the Global Fund, risks losing its effectiveness if it continues to marginalize or exclude key populations. The rollback of targeted, inclusive programs will not only lead to higher transmission rates but also undermine decades of progress in public health. TREE, though small and other supporting programming and strategies in solidarity with LGBTQI+ communities in Uganda, reminds us that solutions must center the people most affected. In a moment when rhetoric is high and funding is low, this project speaks the language of possibility.

For Achen and others, the transformation has been quiet but profound. She now runs a small catering stall with two other trans women. She no longer sleeps with one eye open, waiting for a landlord to bang on her door. When asked what she would tell other trans persons scared of being visible or starting over, she says, “Even in fear, we can plant something small. And from that, we live.”

Williams Apako is the executive officer of the Tranz Network Uganda and a board member of the Global Fund’s Uganda Country Coordinating Mechanism.

LGBTQ people and allies have been attacked in the Ghanaian cities of Tamale and Wa.

Yeliminga Naa Abayema, a journalist with Wa-based Tungsung Radio, last month while on the air said he was going to deal with the LGBTQ community and called on local law enforcement and officials to help him.

Rightify Ghana, a local LGBTQ organization, said Abayema’s remarks are in response to human rights activists who had helped two queer people evade anti-gay attacks.

The chief of Kpalsi Palace in the Sagnarigu municipal district tracked down one of the activists, beat him, fined him $300 and a sheep. The activist was also banished from the area.

The second activist had a written death threat attached to the front door of his apartment, warning him to stop protecting LGBTQ people. The threat forced him to flee the area.

Rightify Ghana on May 27 issued a statement that condemned the attacks.

“From physical attacks, eviction, and death threats to media-led defamation and economic sabotage, these defenders are being punished for standing up against hate,” reads the statement. “In Tamale, two defenders are now homeless, one was beaten, fined, and banished, the other received a death threat. In Wa, a journalist led a public campaign naming and shaming queer individuals, resulting in threats and business losses.”

Rightify Ghana also said the attacks are silencing voices and crippling community support. The group noted the two activists are in urgent need of protection, legal support, relocation assistance,  medical and psychological care.

Yaw Mensah, a Ghanaian LGBTQ activist, said some law enforcement officials were exacerbating the homophobic attacks through arbitrary arrests and supporting the perpetrators.

“The saddest thing in this, is that they can’t even rely on the police for protection because some of the police officers are part of the problem as they are helping persecute LGBT people and their supporters,” said Mensah.

Awo Dufiean, a Ghanaian intersex and transgender woman, in April said a man left her with bruises on her cheek and arms after she refused his advances.

“Why is there such an extreme push to enforce heteropatriachy and heteronormativity through laws and policies and who does it benefit? Why are we developing such an insatiable appetite to use culture to harm and disenfranchise so many people simply because they are different? I have argued and will argue that we need to critically start examining our position as West Africans on what we are doing to queer people,” said Dufiean.

Meanwhile, the Promotion of Proper Human Sexual Rights and Ghanaian Family Values Bill that would further criminalize LGBTQ people and outlaw allyship is back in parliament.

Parliament Speaker Alban Bagbin on May 27 said the anti-LGBTQ bill can now be tabled for its first reading after having completed all necessary processes.

The Ghanaian penal code criminalizes consensual same-sex sexual activity and carries a maximum penalty of three years in prison.

Anyone convicted of forming or funding LGBTQ groups under the Promotion of Proper Human Sexual Rights and Ghanaian Family Values Bill would face fines and up to five years in prison. Those convicted of participating in LGBTQ rights campaigns aimed at children would face up to 10 years in prison.

This year’s International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Intersexism, and Transphobia (IDAHOBiT) celebrates the diversity within the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, and queer (LGBTIQ+) communities, from grassroots movements to regional and global networks, by honoring our varied and intersecting backgrounds, identities, and experiences. The 2025 theme highlights how strength and resilience grow through collective solidarity and open dialogue. It recognizes the transformative power of conversations bridging differences, fostering understanding, and building alliances. Through these dialogues, activists, human rights defenders, civil society groups, allies, and governments are shaping narratives and advancing equal rights.

“Motho ke motho ka batho!” or “A person is a person through other people!”

While many countries have seen policy reforms related to LGBTIQ+ people after lengthy court battles, the LGBTIQ+ community in Lesotho has a different experience and has taken a different approach, which has opened the doors to transformation.

At the heart of this story is the People’s Matrix Association, whose strategic, community-rooted advocacy has led to tangible policy reforms that have changed lives and set a powerful example for the region. At the core of this, they have been using dialogue as one of their core values and strategies to achieve legislative and social reform.

The power of collectiveness

The Basotho people’s innate emphasis on mutual respect, conversation, and shared humanity laid a strong foundation for meaningful engagement. With this understanding, the People’s Matrix Association focuses on building strong bridges with government officials, police, teachers, parents, and traditional leaders. Although not a walk in the park, activists have significantly succeeded in engaging with and encouraging policymakers to see LGBTIQ+ people as deserving of fundamental rights, such as dignity and equality and not as political pawns for popular votes.

The power of Pride

Despite facing pushbacks, stigma, and violence, the community remains steadfast. They organize, mobilize, and build alliances with broader human rights movements for deeper inclusion and intersectionality. For example, the IDAHOBiT and Pride celebrations play a crucial role in reaffirming LGBTIQ+ existence and further strengthening and inspiring unity. They enable Basotho LGBTIQ+ people to claim and occupy spaces.

The power of resilience as a catalyst for change

In 2024, the parliament of Lesotho amended the Labor Act 2024 to explicitly prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation and HIV status. This bold move solidified Lesotho as one of the few countries in Southern Africa to protect LGBTIQ+ people in the workplace, after South Africa and Botswana. And all this happened without a court ruling. This amendment means that LGBTIQ+ people and people living with HIV have legal recourse against hate and discrimination in the workplace. A giant step towards dignity, affirmation, and economic inclusion.

Rights under attack

Early this year, Lesotho came under attack by the Trump administration. On March 4, 2025, Trump made a claim about the People’s Matrix Association receiving $8 million to promote LGBTIQ+ rights, adding that “nobody has ever heard of Lesotho.” This intentionally inaccurate disinformation has surprised many. Yet, during this moment of hostility, we witness the power of communities rallying in solidarity and using this moment to refute harmful narratives and the need to protect Lesotho’s values, which are: “U se ke ua re ho moroa, moroa tooe!” and “Motho ke motho ka batho!”

But it does not end there, in recent months, Lesotho has witnessed a rise in attacks towards LGBTIQ+ identifying individuals, fueled by an increase in misinformation, disinformation, discrimination and online hate. These threats and violence have put the community on edge. External forces, such as false sentiments, further make LGBTIQ+ people targets of hate.

Despite these challenges, LGBTIQ+ communities in Lesotho continue to organize, speak out, and build alliances to defend human rights. Now more than ever, the power of communities theme is important and relevant in protecting the gains made in advancing equal rights in Lesotho.

Tampose Mothopeng is a transgender human rights defender, publisher, and executive director of the People’s Matrix Association that championing the rights of LGBTIQ+ people. Bradley Fortuin is a consultant at the Southern Africa Litigation Center and a social justice activist.