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The hidden struggle for LGBTQ refugees in East Africa and beyond

Those seeking refuge and safety are often silenced

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Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya (Courtesy photo)

I never imagined that fleeing my own country would not free me from fear. Yet, when I left Uganda, the place of my birth, my memories, and the source of both joy and pain I believed that the hardest part of my journey was behind me. I was wrong.

I had lived under the weight of persecution, where being queer was not only condemned but criminalized by laws and reinforced by the religious and cultural doctrines that shaped daily life. Every glance, every whispered insult, every hushed conversation reminded me that the very core of who I am was treated as a threat. In the end, I had no choice but to flee.

I arrived at Kakuma Refugee Camp in northern Kenya with hope in my heart, imagining that safety and relative freedom awaited me. Kakuma is one of Africa’s largest camps, home to hundreds of thousands displaced by conflict across the region. But what I found was a different kind of cage: the cage of silence. The fear I carried from Uganda followed me, threading itself into my interactions, my movements, my very breath. “You cannot say who you are,” a fellow refugee whispered one night as we huddled in the corner of a tent. “Even the walls have ears.”

For LGBTQI+ refugees across East Africa, silence is often the only shield against violence. But silence is also a heavy burden. In Kakuma, Malawi’s Dzaleka Camp, and Zambia’s Meheba settlement, we live in a constant negotiation between visibility and invisibility, between survival and authenticity. The promise of freedom is only partial; the moment you speak your truth, the risk of reprisal is real from fellow refugees, from camp authorities, and from the broader legal and social systems that criminalize us.

Freedom of speech is not merely the right to speak about politics; for us, it is the right to exist openly, to report threats, to seek help when we are attacked, and to be acknowledged as human. But in countries where same-sex relations are criminalized, even reporting a threat can become an act of extreme risk. Arrest. Deportation. Beaten for daring to ask for safety. Silence, then, becomes both our protection and our punishment.

In Kakuma, I have seen friends beaten for holding hands with someone of the same sex, harassed for wearing clothing that did not “fit” traditional gender expectations, and denied essential aid because our identities are deemed illegitimate. We are told to stay quiet, to blend in, to survive in shadows. And yet, survival in silence is a constant reminder that our rights exist only on paper.

The tension between hope and hostility is a daily reality. Humanitarian organizations like UNHCR and NGOs such as ORAM and Rainbow Railroad provide critical interventions, but safe spaces are limited and often inaccessible. Even interpreters people meant to help us navigate the bureaucracy of aid can inadvertently “out” us, putting lives at risk. Attempts at advocacy, such as peaceful marches within camps, are met with hostility, detention, or social ostracism.

Malawi and Zambia offer a similar narrative, albeit in different hues. In Dzaleka Camp, Malawi, LGBTQI+ refugees live largely underground, avoiding clinics or services for fear of ridicule or exposure. Even when protections are formally recognized, they are often overridden by national laws or local social norms. In Zambia, settlements like Meheba and Mantapala host tens of thousands of refugees, but restrictive legal frameworks and growing public hostility force many queer individuals to remain silent, invisible, and isolated.

Silence carries a cost far beyond fear of immediate violence. It fosters isolation, anxiety, and depression. It limits access to justice, healthcare, and advocacy. When we cannot speak openly, misinformation and stigma flourish. The very systems meant to protect us in camps, NGOs, and legal frameworks often fail to bridge the gap between policy and practice.

Yet, even within these constraints, resilience thrives. I have witnessed extraordinary courage: small networks of LGBTQI+ refugees who create discreet support groups, online networks that allow us to share information safely, and local NGOs that quietly provide legal aid and mental health support. Technology, especially encrypted communication tools, has become our lifeline. Even if we cannot speak openly in our physical spaces, our voices travel through digital networks, connecting us with allies and advocacy channels across the globe.

I think of Musa, a bisexual refugee from the Democratic Republic of Congo, who once told me, “Even if we can’t speak loudly here, we can be heard somewhere.” Those words linger, reminding me that freedom of speech is not just about talking it is about being acknowledged, being safe, and being human.

International organizations are slowly recognizing these realities. UNHCR’s 2024 Global Appeal emphasizes the need for safe spaces, community outreach, and equitable access to protection for LGBTQI+ refugees. Yet, progress remains uneven. Governments and donors must move beyond statements to tangible actions: confidential reporting channels, SOGIESC-sensitive training for camp staff and interpreters, funding for refugee-led initiatives, and legal reforms that at least protect asylum seekers under international protection.

Writing this from Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan, I reflect on the journey I have taken from Uganda’s shadows of persecution, through Kakuma’s labyrinth of fear, to this temporary space of relative safety. I still carry the echoes of enforced silence, the whispers of caution, and the weight of being invisible. But I also carry hope, solidarity, and the knowledge that even small acts of courage ripple outward.

I write not just for myself, but for every queer refugee silenced by fear, for every friend who cannot report an assault, who cannot access medical care, who cannot simply say, “I am here. I am human. I exist.” Freedom of speech is more than words; it is the right to live authentically and safely. Every whispered story, every cautious disclosure, is a testament to our humanity and our resilience.

I did not come to Kakuma, or to any camp, to be a hero. I came to survive. I came to live. And I continue to write in shadows, in whispers, and now, finally, in a voice that reaches beyond the walls of fear. One day, I hope, we will no longer have to whisper. We will be able to speak, freely, openly, and safely. Until then, every word I write is a small act of defiance, a claim to my right to exist, and a reminder to the world that legal protection means little without the freedom to claim it.

Abrina lives in the Gorom Refugee Camp in South Sudan.

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Opinions

SAVE Act could silence millions of trans voters

New administrative barriers pose threat to voting rights

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Activists hold signs opposing the passage of the SAVE Act outside of the U.S. Capitol on March 18. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

In Washington, debates over voting rights usually arrive loudly — through court rulings, protests, or sweeping legislation that captures national attention. 

The Safeguard American Voter Eligibility (SAVE) Act, now under debate in Congress, may reshape voting access in a quieter way — through paperwork. The bill would require Americans registering to vote in federal elections to present documentary proof of citizenship, such as a passport or birth certificate. Supporters argue the measure would strengthen election integrity and restore public confidence in the voting process. But for millions of eligible voters, particularly transgender Americans, the practical consequences could be far more complicated.

According to Gallup, about 1.3% of U.S. adults identify as transgender, representing roughly 3.3 million Americans. Far from disengaged politically, transgender voters participate in elections at high rates. Data released by Advocates for Trans Equality shows 75% of transgender respondents reported voting in the 2020 election, compared with 67% of the general population. Registration rates are also higher. 

This is a community that shows up for democracy. Yet the SAVE Act could place new administrative barriers directly in its path. Birth certificates, the document many supporters believe should verify citizenship are among the most difficult identity records for transgender Americans to update. According to data released by The Williams Institute at UCLA Law School  and the U.S. Transgender Survey, 44% of transgender adults had updated their name on government identification, but only 18% had successfully updated their birth certificates.

That gap matters.

If birth certificates become a central requirement for voter registration, millions of eligible transgender Americans could face bureaucratic obstacles that other voters rarely encounter. 

History offers a warning. According to the Bipartisan Policy Center, Kansas implemented a similar proof-of-citizenship law that blocked more than 30,000 eligible voters from registering before the Kansas Supreme Court struck it down as unconstitutional.

At the same time, evidence suggests voter fraud remains extraordinarily rare. Research cited by the American Immigration Council estimates fraud at roughly 0.0001% of votes cast. 

The question before lawmakers is not whether election security matters. It clearly does. The question is whether policies designed to solve a rare problem could intentionally disenfranchise legitimate voters.

The broader cultural debate surrounding gender identity often becomes emotionally charged, particularly when conversations turn to pronouns or language. Yet polling suggests the issue remains unfamiliar to many Americans. A 2022 YouGov poll found only 22% of Americans personally know someone who uses gender-neutral pronouns.

Meanwhile, the problems weighing on everyday Americans are far larger: rising grocery prices, health care costs, housing shortages, and economic struggles in both rural towns and urban neighborhoods. Yet, many conservatives choose to focus unnecessary time, energy, and resources litigating the use of pronouns.

A healthy democracy should be able to debate cultural questions without allowing them to become barriers to the ballot box.

So, what should transgender Americans, and allies, do in this moment? First, stay engaged politically. Contact legislators and explain how identification requirements affect real voters. Personal stories often reach policymakers in ways statistics alone cannot.

Second, document the impact. Write letters to local newspapers, share experiences publicly, and ensure the real-world effects of voting policies are visible.

Third, consider running for office. Local school boards, city councils, and state legislatures shape many of the rules governing elections. Finally, protest with discipline and purpose. The most transformative movements in history — from Mahatma Gandhi to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. — were rooted in peaceful persistence and moral clarity.

The SAVE Act may ultimately pass, fail, or change significantly as Congress debates it. But the larger principle at stake should guide the conversation. America’s democracy has always grown stronger when more citizens can participate, not when the path to the ballot becomes harder to navigate. For transgender voters, and for the country as a whole, that principle remains the quiet foundation of the republic.


James Bridgeforth, Ph.D., is a national columnist on the intersection of politics, morality, and civil rights. His work regularly appears in The Chicago Defender and The Black Wall Street Times.

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The frightening rise of antisemitism, Islamophobia

Trump, Netanyahu to blame for inflaming tensions

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Prime Minister of Israel Benjamin Netanyahu (Photo by palinchak/Bigstock)

We can lay the rise in antisemitism and Islamophobia directly at the feet of the felon in the White House, and the criminal at the head of the Israeli government. Both Trump and Netanyahu belong in jail, not leading their governments.

I am a proud Jewish, gay man, and the homophobia and antisemitism the felon in the White House is generating are truly frightening. I am assuming my Muslim friends are feeling the same way about the Islamophobia he is causing to rise. While people have always been racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, and antisemitic, Trump has given tacit permission, with his statements, actions, and now his war on Iran, for those feelings to be shouted in the public square, and in the worst-case scenarios, acted on with violent attacks. 

We can clearly attribute the rise in antisemitism around the world, to the actions of the right-wing, war criminal, leader of the Israeli government, Benjamin Netanyahu, and what he is doing to destroy Gaza, murdering innocent Palestinians, and now again bombing innocents in Lebanon.

This is all seeping into the politics of our nation. One organization promoting antisemitism and expecting it of the candidates they endorse, is the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA). They went so far as to take away an endorsement at one point, from one of their most ardent supporters, Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.), because she refused to fully support their anti-Zionist platform and their support of BDS. The DSA took issue with “[Ocasio-Cortez’s] votes, including a vote in favor of H.Res.888, conflating opposition to Israel’s ‘right to exist’ with antisemitism,” and a press release in April she co-signed that “support[s] strengthening the Iron Dome and other defense systems.” In their 2025 platform DSA called for a single state from the ‘river to the sea’ as the Palestinian right to resist, thereby eliminating the State of Israel. It goes with their support of BDS and anti-Zionist positions. It is fair to see that as antisemitism. 

I am a Zionist, in the sense of the term as coined by Theodor Herzl. I am a believer in, and supporter of, the State of Israel. I am also for a Palestinian state. I am opposed to what Israel’s current government, led by a war criminal, is doing. I had hoped he would have abided by what former President Biden said to him immediately after Oct. 7. “Don’t make the same mistake we did after 9/11. Temper your response.” But instead, Netanyahu has murdered Palestinians by the thousands, destroying Gaza. He was rightfully declared a war criminal and should be brought to justice. He has made things worse both for the people of Israel, and Jews around the world. He has been responsible for antisemitism around the world once again rearing its ugly head. Now, two and a half years after Hamas’s attack on Israel, he is still murdering Palestinians, and now again more people in Lebanon and Iran. He still denies the Palestinian people need a home, a state of their own. He promotes settlements on the West Bank that should be part of a Palestinian state and refuses to prosecute settlers who commit crimes against the Palestinian people there. 

My parents and relatives had to flee Hitler. Some came to the United States, and some immigrated to Israel. My father’s parents were killed in Auschwitz. I believed it could never happen again. But the felon in the White House, and criminal in Israel, are abusing me of that notion. Their policies of greed and corruption are leading to danger for all the people of the world. They are leading us into a third world war.  The felon is attempting to steal, yes steal, billions through his phony ‘Board of Peace’ where he is screwing the Palestinian people out of their homes in Gaza. It is insanity, and we are all suffering for it; Jews, Muslims, and the rest of the world, as we are thrown into war none of us wants. 

Now as I wrote, the DSA, tells people all Zionists are the enemy, without a definition of what a Zionist is. They expect their supporters not to recognize the State of Israel. They create antisemitism, and now in D.C. we have a candidate running for mayor, Janeese Lewis George, asking for, and getting their support. They also have in their platform to defund the police. Those things should frighten all the people of D.C. Any candidate who can run on the DSA platform must be deemed unacceptable to anyone who opposes prejudice and discrimination of any kind. One prejudice leads to others and gives rise to people feeling they can be open about not only their antisemitism, but their Islamophobia, racism, and sexism, as well. 

We need all the good voters in the District of Columbia to find these DSA positions unacceptable, and reject any candidate who solicits, and takes their endorsement. 


Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

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Botswana

The rule of law, not the rule of religion

Bonolo Selelo and Tsholofelo Kumile are challenging the Botswana Marriage Act

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(Bigstock photo)

Botswana was in a whole frenzy as religious and traditional fundamentalists kept mixing religion and constitutional law as if it were harmless. It is not. One is a private matter of belief between you and God, while the other is the framework that protects and governs us all. When these two systems get fused, the result is rarely justice. It results in discrimination. 

The ongoing case brought by Bonolo Selelo and Tsholofelo Kumile challenging provisions of the Botswana Marriage Act has reignited a familiar debate in Botswana. Some commentators insist that marriage equality violates religious values and therefore should not be recognized by law. It is a predictable argument. It is also fundamentally incompatible with constitutional governance.

Botswana is not a Christian state. It is a constitutional democracy governed by the Constitution of Botswana. That distinction matters. In a constitutional democracy, laws are interpreted in accordance with constitutional principles such as equality, dignity, protection, inclusion and the rule of law, rather than the doctrinal beliefs of any particular religion.

Religion has no place in constitutional law and democracy

The central problem with religious arguments in constitutional disputes is simple in that they divide, they other, they contest equality and they are personal. Constitutional law by contrast, must apply equally to everyone.

Botswana’s Constitution guarantees fundamental rights and freedoms under Sections 3 and 15, including protection from discrimination and the right to equal protection of the law. These provisions are not conditional on religious approval. They exist precisely to protect minorities from the preferences or prejudices of the majority.

Legal experts, such as Anneke Meerkotter, in her policy brief in Defense of Constitutional Morality, point out that constitutional rights function as a safeguard against majoritarian morality. If rights depended on whether the majority approved of a minority’s identity or relationships, they would not be rights at all. They would merely be privileges.

This principle has already been affirmed in Botswana’s jurisprudence. In the landmark decision of Letsweletse Motshidiemang v Attorney General, the High Court held that criminalizing consensual same-sex relations violated constitutional protections of liberty, dignity, privacy, and equality. This judgment noted that constitutional interpretation must evolve with society and must be guided by human dignity and equality. The court emphasized that the Constitution protects all citizens, including those whose identities, expressions or relationships may be unpopular. That ruling was later upheld by the Court of Appeal of Botswana in 2021, reinforcing the principle that constitutional rights cannot be restricted on grounds of moral disapproval alone. These decisions were not theological pronouncements. They were legal determinations grounded in constitutional principles.

The danger of religious majoritarianism

When religion is used to justify legal restrictions, the result is what constitutional scholars call “majoritarian moralism.” It allows the dominant religious interpretation in society to dictate the rights of everyone else. That approach is fundamentally incompatible with constitutional democracy. Botswana is religiously diverse. While Christianity is the majority faith, there are also Muslims, Hindus, traditional spiritual communities, Sikh and people who practice no religion at all. If the law were to follow the doctrines of one religious group, which interpretation would it adopt? Christianity alone contains dozens of denominations with different views on love, equality, marriage, sexuality, and gender. The moment the state begins to legislate on the basis of religious doctrine, it implicitly privileges one belief system over others. That undermines both religious freedom and constitutional equality. Ironically, keeping religion separate from constitutional law is what protects religious freedom in the first place.

Judicial independence is the cornerstone of Botswana’s governance system

The current case involving Bonolo Selelo and Tsholofelo Kumile is before the judiciary, where it belongs. Courts exist to interpret the Constitution and determine whether legislation complies with constitutional rights. Political and religious lobbying, as well as public outrage, must not influence that process.

Judicial independence is the cornerstone of Botswana’s governance system. According to the International Commission of Jurists, judicial independence ensures that courts can make decisions based on law and evidence rather than political or social pressure.

When governments, political, religious, or traditional actors attempt to interfere in constitutional litigation, they weaken the rule of law. Botswana has historically prided itself on having one of the most stable constitutional systems in Africa. The judiciary has played a critical role in safeguarding rights and maintaining legal certainty. The decriminalization case demonstrated this. Despite strong public debate and political sensitivity, the courts assessed the law according to constitutional principles rather than moral panic. The same standard must apply in the current marriage equality case.

This article was first published in the Botswana Gazette, Midweek Sun, and Botswana Guardian newspapers and has been edited for the Washington Blade. 

Bradley Fortuin is a consultant at the Southern Africa Litigation Center and a social justice activist.

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