As queer people around the world celebrate Pride month, their Kenyan and Ugandan counterparts are also marking it with a strong message of defiance and resistance.

Their agitation for “dignity, safety, and liberation” in homophobic environments follows last month’s second Pan-African Conference on Family Values in Nairobi, whose delegates were concerned about the push to normalize so-called LGBTQ practices on the continent and resolved to resist.      

The Initiative for Equality and Non Discrimination, a Kenyan LGBTQ rights organization, for instance cites Pride’s founding spirit of protest to resist the attempt to “erase, silence and oppress” queer people.  

“In a world that tries to diminish our existence, choosing joy becomes a radical act. Queer joy is not just a celebration, it is resistance. It is healing. It is a bold declaration; we are here, we are whole, and we deserve to thrive,” INEND states. 

It affirms that queer people have space for rage, resistance, softness, and joy as they honor the roots of Pride packed with a variety of activities for the group throughout the month.    

“We demand inclusion, we bask for visibility and we dance through the fire. This, too, is revolution,” INEND says. 

During the Pan-African Conference on Family Values meeting, which delegates from national governments, anti-LGBTQ lobby groups, academic and religious institutions, and international partners attended, Kenyan National Assembly Speaker Moses Wetang’ula affirmed the country’s position on marriage between a man and a woman as the constitution states. Wetang’ula advocates for laws that protect the “traditional family” and cultural values against what he described as Western imports.

“I urge our legislators that they should shield the good provisions of our constitution on family from ideological redefinitions of marriage seeking to recognize outlawed same-sex relationships,” Wetang’ula said. 

He also asked lawmakers to enact laws to prohibit comprehensive sexuality education in schools and only permit a science-based curriculum that is appropriate to the age, development level, and cultural background of school children without normalizing same-sex sexual acts and relationships.

“In modern times, across all nations, there have emerged two forces: one fighting for, and the other pursuing ideologies, positions, and acts that are against the traditional family,” Wetang’ula said. 

The delegates during the conference, which sparked criticism from Kenyan queer groups committed to resist the imposition of LGBTQ rights and other so-called external values under the pretense of development aid, international agreements, or donor partnerships that conflict with national laws and cultural integrity. They also committed to establishing, strengthening, and coordinating “pro-family” advocacy platforms and multi-sector coalitions at national, regional, and continental levels to engage with policymakers, legislators, and public education players.  

This pledge was in response to the delegates’ concerns over external manipulation of national legislative processes through covert or overt efforts to influence or bypass national parliaments in adopting judicial decisions that redefine family, life, and gender. They were also concerned over the global push to normalize gender fluidity and “non-biological” sexual identities in law, education, and healthcare, contrary to established biological, African culture, and religious norms.  

The delegates asked the African governments, parliaments, the African Union, and regional economic blocs to urgently undertake legislative reviews and reforms to ensure all national laws align with constitutional protections for the family, life, and parental rights. The Initiative for Equality and Non Discrimination, however, argue that describing queerness as un-African is a lie and a tool of imperialism used as a weapon to justify violence, exclusion and erasure, which should be rejected as it was enacted by colonial powers. 

Kenya’s queer community has nevertheless lined up a month’s worth of Pride events in Nairobi, the country, and across the country. Some of the locations are not publicly disclosed because of security reasons.

The events calendar that Galck, a group of 16 LGBTQ rights organizations, released includes entertainment and socializing every Friday evening in various places for queer party lovers. The celebrations also include queer community networking events to empower each other, meet-ups in safe places for soft, acoustic jam sessions and reflection, queer community days where the group gather to connect and celebrate queer lives. 

The calendar also invites queer people to participate in an open conversation with Galck, a trivia and karaoke event with the National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission, a supportive healing circle termed ‘Healing out Loud’ for distressed queer people, and a queer community potluck for the group to enjoy food, fun and connection. 

Other Pride events include queer love edition for singles, an art exhibition that includes rainbow- themed painting, a healing-centred therapy workshop termed “Chosen Family, Chosen Self,” a literary forum for bookworms to celebrate queer African literature, and movie night for film lovers.

The Cosmopolitan Affirming Community, a Nairobi-based church for queer people, has organized Gospel Sunday. Trek Tribe Kenya, an outdoor activity organizer, is also organizing activities that include climbing Mount Kenya, Africa’s second-highest mountain, hiking the gorges of Hell’s Gate National Park, and enjoying a “Pastel in the Park” wellness treat. 

“Respect the spaces you attend as they are safe, affirming environments, and take care of oneself and each other during Pride fun fare celebration,” Galck urges.  

‘Pride is not just parades or celebrations’

Their queer counterparts in Uganda are also having an eventful Pride month, despite persistent challenges.

“Pride is not just parades or celebrations. It is solidarity for many who cannot celebrate or march. It means refusing to be erased and choosing to simply be who you are,” said Sexual Minorities Uganda, which LGBTQ activist Frank Mugisha leads.

The World Bank Group has resumed lending to Uganda.

The bank in 2023 suspended new loans to the African country after President Yoweri Museveni signed the Anti-Homosexuality Act, which contains a death penalty provision for “aggravated homosexuality.” Reuters reported the bank decided to resume lending on June 5.

“We have now determined the mitigation measures rolled out over the last several months in all ongoing projects in Uganda to be satisfactory,” a bank spokesperson told Reuters in an email. “Consequently, the bank has prepared three new projects in sectors with significant development needs – social protection, education, and forced displacement/refugees – which have been approved by the board.”

Activists had urged the bank not to resume loans to Uganda.

Richard Lusimbo, director general of the Uganda Key Population Consortium, last September described the “so-called ‘mitigation measures’ are a façade, designed to provide the illusion of protection.”

“They rely on perpetrators of discrimination — the government of Uganda — to implement the measures fairly,” said Lusimbo. “How can they be taken seriously?” 

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.