World
Gay Nigerian priest makes religion serve LGBTQ people
Rev. Jide Macaulay founded House of Rainbow
It is impossible to speak of queer identity and culture without acknowledging the important role religion has played in shaping it throughout history. Whether it’s Pope Francis praising the work an American priest has done to affirm LGBTQ identity, or a Republican legislator rebuking the existence of transgender people by invoking scripture from the Bible, religion and spirituality unquestionably influence conversations about sexual identity in the U.S. and how American society would like for people to manifest their sexuality.
A significant portion of LGBTQ people in the U.S. are religious.
A study the UCLA School of Law’s Williams Institute conducted in 2020 found that 5.3 million LGBTQ adults are religious with almost half of this metric identifying as “highly religious.” Forty percent of those between ages 18 and 35 are religious, and 65 percent percent of those over 65 identify as religious as well. In addition, 71 percent of Black LGBTQ adults in the U.S. are religious.
The Washington Blade recently spoke with Rev. Jide Macaulay, founder and CEO of the London-based House of Rainbow CIC, to talk about his work as a gay Black African Christian priest.
Macaulay was born in London and grew up in Ikeja, the boisterous capital of Nigeria’s Lagos State. He was born into a religious family to parents who he described to the Blade during a 2017 interview as “very dedicated Christians.” His father was one of Nigeria’s leading theologians, so Macaulay’s upbringing was naturally Christian-centric, with him being involved in the church from a young age.
As a budding adult, Macaulay pursued theology as a profession and became an ordained minister in 1998 after training with his father. After a two-year hiatus from the church, he joined the Metropolitan Community Church in London to study theology and later joined its congregation as a minister in 2003. Macaulay says it was there that he became confident in his understanding that “God loves gay people regardless of all these messages of it being a taboo or abomination.”
Sheathed with this conviction, Macaulay moved back to Nigeria to create an environment that mimics that which he had experienced at the Metropolitan Community Church.
“It became important to me to go to Nigeria to create the same space and tell LGBTQ people that ‘God loves you just the way you are,’” says Macaulay. “I embodied a lot of the spirit of the human rights church that came out of the origin of the Metropolitan Community Church.”
Macaulay started House of Rainbow under this ideology on Sept. 2, 2006. This weekly gathering of LGBTQ Christians initially began with 34 congregants, but the congregation grew rapidly to a point where Macaulay “didn’t know what to do with all the people.” He says the growth “perplexed” him as he didn’t realize that House of Rainbow was so popular.
House of Rainbow encountered problems that emanated from operating in a country with virulent homophobic laws, despite its popularity. Many congregants were physically attacked for identifying as queer, and Macaulay recalls individuals emerging to church with broken noses and arms. The media also caught wind of House of Rainbow’s weekly gatherings and chaos ensued.
The culmination of these events forced Macaulay to leave Nigeria after two years. House of Rainbow remained steadfast with its mission to create a community for LGBTQ Christians and soldiered on for a couple of more years before it eventually dissolved.
“It’s unfortunate, now, that as I speak to you we do not have a House of Rainbow community in Nigeria,” says Macaulay. “We still have people connected [to the community], but we don’t have a physical presence or anyone leading it.”
House of Rainbow’s reach has nevertheless now become global, with communities established in 22 countries. The majority of them are in Africa.
‘Homosexuality is not a sin; it is who we are’
The crux of Macaulay’s ideology centers on inclusion and acceptance. He creates a space at House of Rainbow where LGBTQ individuals can not only gather in community, but can also feel seen and recognized as meaningful members and contributors to Christianity
“The important thing [that people need to understand] is that as a minister of the gospel of Christ, I want every LGBTQ person to make [it to] heaven,” says Macaulay. “I want them to be on a path towards salvation and redemption.”
“This whole language that if you are gay, you are destined for hell and eternal damnation is so wrong. That is even abusive in itself,” adds Macaulay.
He further invokes a popular scripture that loosely states, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”
This scripture is a part of what homophobic Christians use to denounce queerness. Macaulay, nevertheless emphasizes that there is a lack of complete understanding of what the scripture truly communicates.
“[The scripture] didn’t say that anyone is going to hell. It said that we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God,” says Macaulay. “Having said that, it is important to understand that homosexuality is not a sin; it is who we are.”
Macaulay’s work is therefore enmeshed in the need to fight for social justice causes. He aims to use the church as a platform to bring awareness to and fight for all iterations of LGBTQ rights. Whether it be racism, sexism, or classism, Macaulay aims to “be like Jesus” and emulate his unwavering passion to uplift those at the bottom of society’s hierarchy.
“It’s inconceivable to think that any religious space wouldn’t be a platform for social justice. Jesus Christ was about social justice,” says Macaulay. “Even the Civil Rights Movement in America had the church fighting injustices relating to racism.”
Macaulay stresses that the church needs to “do what is right” and stand up for the rights of LGBTQ people.
“In the Bible in Micah 6:18, it says, ‘What does the Lord require of you but to do justice? To love kindness and work in humility with your God,” says Macaulay. “Therefore, Christian leaders need to have a strong understanding of justice.”
When reflecting on the current state of religion, its diversion from and/or weak approach towards social justice, and also its complicity in oppressing minority groups, Macaulay says, “Jesus Christ would definitely be mad.”
Can you be a gay African and Christian?
Prior to being colonized by European countries, many African cultures had relaxed attitudes towards sexuality and gender. The Shona in Zimbabwe, Pangwe in Cameroon, Igbo in Nigeria and other African tribes all permitted queer existence without any negative repercussions.
The expansion of European global influence brought with it homophobic laws, which were largely enacted under the pretense of “Christian values,” that forced African countries to institutionalize queerphobia, which has now become an undeniable legacy of colonialism on the continent.
That colonialism introduced African populations to Christianity is not an uncommon sentiment among queer Africans and Africans in general. Hence, it is not uncommon to find LGBTQ Africans who denounce Christianity not only because of its association with the racism that fueled European occupation of the continent, but also its functioning as a tool that erased what many of them nostalgically view as a queer-affirming past tainted by the arrival of the white man.
Macaulay both believes and shuns this. He acknowledges that colonialism did participate in the erasure of queer acceptance in African cultures, however, the concept of Christianity being “unAfrican” is fallacious.
He asserts that African and Black African Christians existed before colonialism, and thus, the notion that Christianity is the “white man’s religion” is a false notion.
“Christianity was present in pre-colonial Africa,” says Macaulay. “In the Bible there are numerous references to Africa, including Egypt and Ethiopia where important biblical events happened, [for example], the story of the Israelites leaving Egypt in search of the promised land.”
Macaulay, because of this, spotlights the need for religion to be decolonized.
By reframing how Christians conceive of religion, from unlearning the notion that Jesus is white to acknowledging the existence of Black people in the Bible, one can have a more wholesome and truthful interaction with Christianity.
Also, this will allow for queer African Christians to exist in their queer communities comfortably as Macaulay states that there’s a need for them to occupy space in the community as proudly religious people without bearing the shame that is cast on them by what seems to be an agnostic-leaning landscape.
Lil Nas X and ‘going to hell’
Lil Nas X on March 26 released a single titled “Call Me By Your Name” which garnered massive attention for both its musical mastery through a catchy hook and its depiction of Black queerness. The accompanying video further dramatized the story by drawing from Christian visual imagery of heaven and hell, and God and the Devil.
The song’s video features scenes of Lil Nas X in sensual form, including him giving a caricature of Satan a lap dance. This particularly angered many religious groups, including Christian allies of the LGBTQ community who USA Today reported criticized the video for “going too far to prove a point.’”
Macaulay is a fan of Lil Nas X, who he dubs as his “favorite artist of all time right now, after Michael Jackson,” and for him, Lil Nas X’s discography extends beyond simple displays of queer identity.
Macaulay has one thought at the forefront of his mind when he looks at “Call Me By Your Name”: The concept of hell is abusive and a form of scaremongering.
“The concept of hell is propaganda. It is almost fictional,” says Macaulay. “The idea that if you do something wrong you will go to hell, is wrong in and of itself. Homosexuality was never wrong. Homophobia is wrong.”
He further underlines that God made gay people, and supports this with a scripture from the book of Philippians which loosely points to God’s omnipotent knowledge before, during, and after one’s life on earth.
Macaulay says that people should listen to Lil Nas X’s pain, and not rebuke him, because he speaks for millions of gay people.
“The reality is that when you tell people that they are going to hell, you are excommunicating them from living their own lives appropriately,” says Macaulay.
Macaulay nonetheless has a deep admiration for today’s younger generations, especially because they refuse to align themselves with the bigotry that ravages societal discourse about identity.
“I’m really glad for the young people that have stepped out. They are fighting back. They are the warriors and heroes saying, ‘Enough is enough. I’m proud, queer and African,’” says Macaulay. “I think that the sad reality for the Christian community is that they’re missing out on the gift and talents of the queer community [by being exclusive].”
Macaulay and House of Rainbow have created “GAYMoment,” a weekly online service that centers queer worship. Each Sunday, queer people from around the world gather online for prayer, sermon, and testimonies, all provided by queer people.
Macaulay champions sex positivity
Discussing sex and sexual identity is a topic from which Macaulay does not shy away. In fact, it is one that although he is a religious leader, he also approaches as a person of faith.
Macaulay, who lives with HIV, is a proponent of sex positivity.
“I think it’s important for every adult human being to experience a sexual relationship that is appropriate, suitable, and consensual,” says Macaulay. “It is important that everyone in their lifetime engages positively with sex, particularly adults. I don’t recommend it for minors though.”
Macaulay is also a vocal advocate for having honest and open conversations about sex and sexuality. He gives credence to the fact that society needs to address the lack of comprehensive sex education.
“Countries that have [addressed sex education] are doing better. They have less cases of STIs and teenage pregnancies,” says Macaulay. “Also, students get more opportunities to know more about various sexulities.”
Sex education should be age-appropriate and geared towards protecting children, minors, and vulnerable adults, says Macaulay. He believes that children should know about their bodies and be armed with the confidence to talk to adults when their boundaries are violated.
Thus, by keeping advocacy as the focal point, Macaulay, who is affectionately known as “Mama Jide” functions in a quintessential role in the queer community, one similar to that of house mothers in ballroom culture who outstretch themselves to the limits to ensure that their children not only have their basic needs, but also reach a point of complete self-actualization and realization of their purpose in life.
World
Report: 90 percent of LGBTQ groups around the world have lost funding since 2025
Trump-Vance administration cut US support after it took office
A new report that Outright International released on Thursday notes 90 percent of LGBTQ and intersex rights groups around the world have lost funding since January 2025.
The New York-based global advocacy group surveyed 229 LGBTQ and intersex rights groups in 94 countries.
Forty-nine percent of the organizations that responded said they have lost more than half of their total budget since January 2025 — 75 percent of the groups said they lost more than a quarter of their total funding.
“For nearly half of the respondents, the cuts removed most of the resources that sustained the organization,” reads the report.
When asked which funders “had reduced, suspended, or withdrawn support,” more than half of the responding groups “pointed to a source tied to the United States government, including USAID (U.S. Agency for International Development), the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), and the Department of State.”
“No other funder came close,” notes the report.
‘What was initially framed as a temporary freeze has become a structural disruption’
The Trump-Vance administration froze nearly all U.S. foreign aid shortly after it took office on Jan. 20, 2025.
Secretary of State Marco Rubio in March 2025 announced 83 percent of USAID contacts had been cancelled, and the State Department would administer the remaining programs. USAID officially shut down on July 1, 2025.
Rubio issued a waiver that allowed PEPFAR and other “life-saving humanitarian assistance” programs to continue to operate during the funding freeze. The Washington Blade has previously reported PEPFAR-funded programs in Kenya and other African countries have been forced to suspend services and even shut down because of gaps in U.S. funding.
(Washington Blade video by Michael K. Lavers)
The Outright International report notes the State Department under the Trump-Vance administration “terminated the programs of the Global Equality Fund, the public-private partnership it launched in 2011 with allied governments, companies, and foundations, which distributed more than $100 million in its first decade to LGBTIQ organizations and human rights defenders in over 100 countries.” The Trump-Vance administration, among other things, has withdrawn the U.S. from the U.N. LGBTI Core Group, a group of U.N. member states that have pledged to support LGBTQ and intersex rights.
Outright International Executive Director Maria Sjödin in an op-ed the Blade published on Jan. 28, 2026, wrote the global LGBTQ and intersex rights movement since January 2025 lost more than $125 million — or 30 percent of its total annual funding.
“What was initially framed as a temporary freeze has become a structural disruption,” notes the Outright International report. “The effects have cascaded far beyond U.S. government funding: corporate, institutional, and philanthropic donors have also shifted, stalled, or quietly withdrawn, often without public scrutiny.”
“The broader environment in which LGBTIQ movements operate has continued to deteriorate — with democratic backsliding, anti-NGO legislation, rising violence, coordinated legislative attacks on trans and intersex people’s rights, and emboldened anti-rights actors filling the space left by the retreat of U.S. global leadership.”
The report includes specific examples that include:
• Iraqi lawmakers in 2024 passed a law that criminalized consensual same-sex sexual relations and transgender people. Funding cuts forced IraQueer, an Iraqi advocacy group, to stop offering safety and security trainings and workshops to activists and LGBTQ rights organizations in the country.
• An intersex-led organization in West Africa can no longer maintain office space or pay its staff.
• An Ecuadorian group that operated a community center for a decade was “forced to close” it on Feb. 1, 2026. “It has been a true loss for the LGBTIQ+ communities in our city and the country as a whole, as we were a model of self-management and resistance in one of Ecuador’s most conservative cities,” said the group in the report.
• An “LGBTIQ-led refugee organization” in Uganda “has lost the emergency relocation support that once moved people facing immediate violence to safer locations.”
• An advocacy group in Ukraine that lost funding said it was “forced to stop paying some of our specialists and reduce our hours for handling inquiries … We used to be able to respond promptly to requests and support people throughout the entire process of resolving their issues, whereas now we are forced to limit ourselves to one-time consultations or refuse assistance altogether due to a lack of resources.”
• The Tonga Leitis Association in the report said a lack of funding has forced it to reduce “the number of activities the organization can run and erodes the prevention infrastructure behind” the country’s low HIV rate.
The Outright International report notes “global LGBTIQ funding had begun to fall even before the current U.S. administration took office.”
It further cites statistics from the Human Rights Funders Network that project “rights-focused development assistance will fall by between” $1.4-$1.9 billion a year by 2026, “with movements for LGBTIQ people’s rights and gender equality among the hardest it.”
“At the same time, LGBTIQ organizations have not stood still,” reads the Outright International report. “They have continued to resist, adapt, and serve their communities under extraordinary pressure, often absorbing the costs of these funding shocks in ways that remain largely invisible.”
“This report is an effort to make those costs — and that resilience — visible,” it adds.
United Kingdom
Grindr settles UK lawsuit over claims it shared users’ personal information
Plaintiffs allege gay hookup company disclosed HIV status to third parties
Grindr has agreed to pay £26 million ($35.24 million) to settle a lawsuit in the UK over allegations it shared users’ HIV status and other personal information with third parties.
The BBC on Monday reported a lawsuit was filed in the High Court of England and Wales in 2024. A class action lawsuit with more than 11,000 plaintiffs was later filed in the U.S.
Grindr in a U.S. Security and Exchange Commission filing notes the California-headquartered company as part of the settlement it reached on Sept. 2 will pay £13.0 million ($17.62 million) “to the counterparties” by Dec. 31, 2026, and another £13.0 million ($17.62 million) by March 31, 2027.
“As previously disclosed, in April 2025, Grindr Inc. and Grindr LLC, its indirect and wholly-owned operating subsidiary (collectively, ‘Grindr’), were served with proceedings in the High Court of England and Wales, which proceedings were originally issued in April 2024, brought on behalf of UK Grindr users from a period up to early 2020 alleging violations of UK privacy laws,” reads the U.S. Security and Exchange Commission filing.
“On Sept. 2, 2026, Grindr resolved the above-described UK group action related to historical data practices before 2020, when Grindr was owned and controlled by the Chinese conglomerate Kunlun,” it continues. “The settlement includes no findings or admission of liability. While Grindr disputes the allegations, it recognizes and acknowledges the distress and loss of trust expressed by some of its UK users regarding that pre-2020 period.”
The filing further notes Grindr in 2020 “was sold to new owners and appointed new management” and in 2022 became a publicly listed company on the New York Stock Exchange.
“Since 2020 Grindr has overhauled its privacy program with a keen focus on the unique needs of its community,” reads the filing. “Grindr is and remains a safe space for users, committed to transparency, user control, and responsible data practices.”
A Grindr spokesperson in the UK on Tuesday referred the Washington Blade to the filing for comment on the settlement.
El Salvador
Mujer trans salvadoreña es encontrada sin vida
La muerte de Yoisi Villalta vuelve a poner sobre la mesa la violencia
SANTA ANA, El Salvador — La muerte de Yoisi Villalta, mujer trans y vendedora de tortas en Texistepeque, Santa Ana Norte, ha vuelto a colocar en el centro del debate una realidad que durante años ha acompañado a la población LGBTQ en El Salvador: la violencia no termina con una agresión o con una muerte. También puede manifestarse en la manera en que una persona es buscada, nombrada, registrada, despedida y recordada.
Villalta fue reportada como desaparecida por su familia a finales de agosto de 2026. Días después, medios de comunicación y plataformas digitales informaron sobre el hallazgo de su cuerpo sin vida. Un reporte publicado el 5 de septiembre señala que el cuerpo fue localizado en Tacuba, Ahuachapán, ocho días después de su desaparición, mientras que la Policía Nacional Civil no había confirmado hasta entonces la causa de muerte ni clasificado oficialmente el caso como homicidio intencionado.
La precisión es importante; hasta el momento no debe afirmarse como un hecho que Yoisi haya sido víctima de un crimen de odio o de un homicidio motivado por su identidad de género, mientras no exista una investigación oficial que determine las circunstancias y causa de su muerte. Lo que sí existe es una profunda preocupación expresada por organizaciones de la sociedad civil y por personas de la comunidad LGBTQ, especialmente ante el contexto de violencia y discriminación que históricamente han enfrentado las mujeres trans en El Salvador.
Una mujer detrás de una noticia
Antes de convertirse en noticia, Villalta tenía una vida. Era una mujer trans que trabajaba como vendedora de tortas en Texistepeque. Desde su negocio desarrollaba una actividad cotidiana para ganarse la vida, pero también había convertido aquel espacio en una expresión de solidaridad con su comunidad.
De acuerdo con la información difundida por organizaciones LGBTQ, Villalta compartía alimentos con las brigadas de salud sexual que realizaban jornadas en la zona. Esa faceta de su vida permite verla más allá de las circunstancias de su muerte: como una mujer trabajadora, solidaria y vinculada a acciones comunitarias.
La Federación Salvadoreña LGBTI pidió precisamente que su memoria fuera abordada desde esa perspectiva. En el mensaje difundido tras conocerse su muerte, la organización llamó a recordarla por “su vida, su trabajo, su generosidad, y sobre todo desde su nombre”, y pidió que su historia no fuera reducida al morbo.
Ese llamado resulta especialmente importante en tiempos en que las redes sociales pueden convertir una tragedia humana en una sucesión de comentarios, fotografías, especulaciones y publicaciones hechas sin sensibilidad. Una persona fallecida no deja de tener dignidad.
Y una mujer trans no deja de ser mujer porque haya muerto.
El derecho a ser nombrada
Uno de los aspectos que más indignación ha provocado en torno al caso es el tratamiento de la identidad de Villalta durante la búsqueda. Organizaciones y personas cercanas han denunciado que durante el proceso de búsqueda se utilizó el nombre que aparece en su Documento Único de Identidad (DUI), en lugar del nombre con el que Villalta vivía y era reconocida socialmente.
Este aspecto no es meramente una cuestión semántica. Para las personas trans, el nombre puede representar una parte fundamental de su identidad y de la manera en que construyen su vida frente a la sociedad. Ser reconocidas por el nombre con el que se identifican constituye también una forma de respeto.
En el caso de Villalta, la Federación Salvadoreña LGBTI expresó que negar el nombre y la identidad de una persona trans también constituye una forma de violencia. La situación adquiere una dimensión todavía más compleja en El Salvador, donde continúa sin existir un mecanismo legal general que permita a las personas trans modificar su nombre y marcador de género en sus documentos de identidad conforme a su identidad de género.
Así, una persona puede construir durante años una vida social, familiar, laboral y comunitaria con un nombre determinado y, sin embargo, encontrarse ante instituciones que continúan identificándola exclusivamente mediante los datos registrales que no corresponden a la identidad con la que vive. El caso de Villalta vuelve a evidenciar esa tensión entre la identidad vivida y el reconocimiento institucional.
Un problema que va más allá de un solo caso
El caso de Villalta ocurre en un país donde las organizaciones de derechos humanos han advertido durante años sobre la violencia y discriminación que afectan a la población LGBTQ. La información disponible también muestra un problema relacionado con la documentación de estos hechos.
Organizaciones defensoras de derechos humanos han cuestionado la ausencia o insuficiencia de registros públicos actualizados y desagregados que permitan conocer con precisión cuántos delitos violentos afectan a personas LGBTQ y cuántos de ellos tienen como posible motivación la orientación sexual, identidad o expresión de género. La falta de información no significa necesariamente ausencia de violencia. Por el contrario, puede hacerla más difícil de identificar.
Un crimen que no registra la identidad de género de la víctima, o que no investiga adecuadamente una posible motivación relacionada con prejuicios, termina incorporándose estadísticamente como un hecho aislado, sin permitir comprender patrones. Ese problema tampoco es exclusivo de El Salvador. Sin embargo, en el país constituye una preocupación recurrente para las organizaciones que documentan vulneraciones contra personas LGBTQ.
301 denuncias en 2025
Un indicador permite dimensionar que el problema trasciende los homicidios. 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 apoyo de Hivos y Arcus Foundation, registró 301 denuncias de vulneraciones de derechos entre el 1 de enero y el 22 de septiembre de 2025. La Comisión Interamericana de Derechos Humanos también recogió estos datos en su informe anual.
Según esa información, las mujeres trans representaron el 53,5 por ciento de las víctimas registradas y los hombres gays el 26,6 por ciento. El informe también señaló como principales presuntos responsables a cuerpos uniformados, entre ellos la Policía Nacional Civil, los cuerpos de agentes municipales y militares desplegados bajo el régimen de excepción.
Estos datos deben leerse con cautela: se trata de denuncias de vulneraciones de derechos, no de una cifra de homicidios ni de todos los casos ocurridos en el país.
Pero muestran algo importante: la violencia contra las personas LGBTQ no puede analizarse exclusivamente desde los asesinatos. También existe violencia en la discriminación, en el acceso a servicios, en el trato institucional, en la familia, en el trabajo, en los espacios públicos y en la imposibilidad de ejercer plenamente derechos fundamentales.
El precedente de Zashy Zuley
La historia reciente de El Salvador ofrece antecedentes que ayudan a comprender por qué el caso de Villalta genera preocupación. En abril de 2021 fue asesinada en San Miguel Zashy Zuley del Cid, una mujer trans y activista vinculada al trabajo comunitario de personas LGBTQ.
ACNUR condenó entonces su asesinato y señaló que Zuley había sido previamente desplazada de su hogar debido a amenazas. La agencia de Naciones Unidas explicó que trabajaba junto con COMCAVIS TRANS para apoyarla en un proceso de emprendimiento y medios de vida.
Su muerte también puso en evidencia otra forma de violencia: después de morir, hubo dificultades para que su identidad de género fuera respetada durante sus honras fúnebres. Medios que documentaron el caso señalaron que fue sepultada con una expresión masculina y que existieron obstáculos para la participación de personas LGBTQ cercanas a ella.
El caso de Zuley se convirtió así en un símbolo de una problemática que tiene dos dimensiones: la violencia contra el cuerpo y la violencia contra la identidad.
Más de cinco años después, la muerte de Villalta vuelve a colocar ambas preocupaciones en la conversación pública.
¿Dónde están los datos oficiales?
Una de las preguntas que surgen nuevamente es cuántos casos de violencia contra personas LGBTQ han ocurrido en los últimos años y cuántos han sido investigados considerando una posible motivación por prejuicio.
La ausencia de información pública reciente y desagregada dificulta responder.
Esta falta de datos no solo afecta a las organizaciones defensoras de derechos humanos. También afecta a las instituciones encargadas de diseñar políticas públicas, prevenir la violencia y garantizar justicia.
Si no sabemos cuántos casos existen, dónde ocurren, quiénes son las víctimas, qué tipos de violencia se presentan y qué resultados tienen las investigaciones, resulta mucho más difícil diseñar respuestas adecuadas. La documentación independiente adquiere entonces un papel fundamental, aunque nunca debería sustituir la obligación del Estado de generar estadísticas confiables y transparentes.
El desafío de no olvidar
El caso de Villalta vuelve a plantear una pregunta incómoda para El Salvador:
¿Qué ese está haciendo para que las personas LGBTQ puedan vivir y morir con dignidad? La respuesta no puede depender únicamente de las organizaciones LGBTQ, de las familias o de las comunidades.
Requiere instituciones que registren adecuadamente los hechos, investigaciones que determinen responsabilidades, y de acuerdo con activistas de sociedad civil, también “se necesita un Estado que cree y promueva políticas de prevención y que reconozca la identidad de las personas diversas, formación de funcionarios y una sociedad que comprenda que la diversidad no disminuye el valor de ninguna persona”. Por ahora, las circunstancias de la muerte de Yoisi dejan muchas dudas en lo sucedido y no corresponde afirmar que se trató de un crimen de odio sin una determinación oficial de una investigación que no existió.
Report: 90 percent of LGBTQ groups around the world have lost funding since 2025
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