Manono’s story
I am from Malawi. It’s a very Christian country and being LGBTQ there is very bad. They don’t believe that LGBTQ people exist. So, you have to keep it to yourself. There is nothing you can do about it because you are scared you will get killed.
I came to the UK to study, and at first it was hard for me to come out. It took a long time during which I was still living in the closet. But when I did come out it was a big breakthrough for me. In Malawi I was scared that my family would force me to marry a man, and if I didn’t, they would kill me straight away. Coming to the UK was an escape. I have been here for 18 years now. I am happy with my girlfriend here. We feel safe and can live openly.
“When you come to the UK as a refugee, you don’t think about bringing “evidence” of being LGBTQ because you are running away from your country where you aren’t safe.”
But claiming asylum here was a very bad experience. It was so hard for me. You need to give evidence to the Home Office for them to believe you are a lesbian. When you come to the UK as a refugee, you don’t think about bringing “evidence” of being LGBTQ because you are running away from your country where you aren’t safe. When the Home Office tell you you have to get evidence, you don’t know what they mean. I went through a lot and tried to claim asylum many times, but it’s just refusal, refusal, refusal. After my claim was denied because of evidence I put in a fresh claim, but I’m still waiting for a decision after 5 years.
I have been treated really badly in the asylum system. All the refusals and delays have been really difficult.After I was released from detention, I had nowhere to go and no support and was homeless for a year. When I was given Home Office accommodation, it was so dirty and bad to live in – there was water from the upstairs toilet leaking through the ceiling onto my bed. I called ITV News and they interviewed me, to show the awful conditions that people claiming asylum are made to live in.
I have been in immigration detention more than once. The first time I was detained, I was in shock. I didn’t know what was going on. They took me away and locked me up. Inside detention I had no privacy – there were always guards at the door, who said they needed to watch over me because of my health. But the healthcare there was very bad. The nurses don’t want to give you any medication. One day I had to go to hospital, and they handcuffed me. Everyone was looking at me as though I was a criminal.
Nothing is good in detention. When you are there it’s like you’re serving a death sentence. You are scared of getting sent back to your home country. It triggers lots of mental health problems.
Detention centres are very bad places for an LGBTQ person. I did not tell anyone I was a lesbian. I thought I was going to be sent home, so I knew that if I was open about my sexuality, it was going to be very hard for me when I went back to Malawi. So I kept it to myself. There were other LGBTQ people in detention with me, and they were as scared as me. Some of us knew each other from outside detention, and you are scaredsomeone might tell other people about you. It’s very hard, because a lot of people in the community still do not accept gays or lesbians.
“Detention centres are very bad places for an LGBTQ person. I did not tell anyone I was a lesbian.”
Being in detention made me feel like I’m not a human being. I felt like I was just a number. It has made me lose my confidence. It’s so hard not knowing how long you’ll be there, because being in detention is the worst place you can be. It is a shock, and everyone detained is struggling. It’s a very bad place to be a woman. I am so scared of going there again. I never want to go back. Detention really is a very, very bad place.
I want everyone to know how bad detention centres are. Detention is a waste of taxpayers’ money. It’s worse than prison. No human being should be there. After I was in detention, I visited a centre to give a speech outside to people detained. They were all very scared, and many were worried about being sent to Rwanda. I went to speak to them because I wanted to raise awareness, and tell them how to find the right solicitors, or how to cope with being in there, because being in detention is so hard.
This story was originally published at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/manonos-story/
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Vladimir’s story
My name is Vladimir, I am a gay man from Russia. It is so difficult to be an out gay man in Russia. There is so much discrimination against the LGBTQI+ community; this prejudice is supported and actively encouraged by the Russian government. LGBTQI+ people can face abuse every single day in Russia. Homophobia and transphobia are so engrained in society, that even walking down the street can be dangerous. The Russian government finds many ways to persecute LGBTQI+ people. They torture us! When LGBTQI + people are abused in public, the preparators get away with it and not prosecuted. It is so hard to be an out LGBTQI+ person in the eyes of the law. Any legal security we may have had has been continuously eroded over recent years. Now, we are not socially, culturally or legally accepted, supported or protected.
I was trying my best to be happy in Russia, and I had a successful career. But life for LGBTQI+ people in Russia started to get significantly more difficult in 2013, when Putin passed the “propaganda” law. At the time this was a new piece of homophobic and transphobic legislation which made it illegal to “distribute propaganda of non-traditional sexual relationships” to minors, meaning you could be heavily fined if you spoke favourably of LGBTQI+ people around children.
This law was updated in 2022, to include adults, effectively banning any kind of Pride event, or positive depiction of LGBTQI+ people in any public space in Russia. The legislation encouraged people to be actively homophobic, often violently. They knew they wouldn’t face any consequences.
“I was trying my best to be happy in Russia, and I had a successful career. But life for LGBTQI+ people in Russia started to get significantly more difficult in 2013, when Putin passed the “propaganda” law.”
Everything began to deteriorate even more when Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022. The invasion was framed in lots of different ways. We were told it was justified for lots of reasons. It is presented to people in Russia as not only about Ukraine, but about Russia against the so-called satanic west. The government attempts to justify the war to citizens by claiming it’s to “protect and preserve” the country, family values, and traditional Russian culture. As many Russian people see being LGBTQI+ as being an imported “problem” from the West, and therefore “anti-Russian”, the war has only encouraged even more homophobia and transphobia.
It was just after the invasion that I came out as a gay man, on social media. I got a lot of hate online because I am against the invasion. Now that I’d come out, I received even more violent threats. I knew I wasn’t safe and began to fear for my life, and soon after, I fled Russia.
I eventually came to the UK in April 2022. I had some savings and found somewhere to live in London, but by July I’d run out of funds and asked the Home Office for financial support. At the first hostel the Home Office sent me to I faced homophobia, so they moved me to safe accommodation outside London, for which I was so grateful.
I contacted Rainbow Migration when I first arrived in London. I spoke to Stuart, one of the Support Workers; he gave me emotional support on many occasions. It made me feel a lot less alone. I was always depressed, but it makes such a difference to have that kind of support, from people who genuinely want to help you.
I was granted refugee status in March 2023. I was so happy, and so relieved. I can be my true self here in the UK. I can live as a gay man, without fear, without the need to hide who I am. I didn’t know this would ever be possible for me. Until I came here, I didn’t know how to live without shame. Now, I can live openly and safely.
“I eventually came to the UK in April 2022. I contacted Rainbow Migration when I first arrived… I spoke to Stuart, one of the Support Workers; he gave me emotional support on many occasions. It made me feel a lot less alone… it makes such a difference to have that kind of support, from people who genuinely want to help you.“
I want Russia to become a free and democratic society. I want that so much. But for now, I’m happy to be here. I have the freedom to speak, to be anti-war, to say what I really think. It’s very important to me. We are all equal, regardless of our religion, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, politics, anything! We are all human beings. I believe in equality; it is the key to freedom and to us all living good lives.
I am truly grateful for all the support I’ve received. Without it I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to live as a proud gay man – something which should have been possible in my home country.
I really appreciate Rainbow Migration and everything they do. It’s wonderful that organisations like them exist. Their work helps people to be themselves. Many people come from countries where being LGBTQI+ is shameful and stressful. You even worry you will be killed. But after coming to the UK, I realised you can live as a gay man without any doubt, that people will support and encourage you, and even celebrate you. It’s amazing! Thank you for everything.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Dona’s story
My name is Dona. I’m from Cameroon. I’m the youngest of 15 children. My father would threaten all of us with death if any of us were homosexual: “Whoever among you is homosexual, I will kill with my own hands like a rat,” he said.
My mother said “gwuines”, (which means lesbians in old French slang) go to hell. For some reason, she always said it while looking at me. Indeed, I was different; not much of a tom boy, but it’s like I had a man’s character. My father even used to call me Mister. I knew I was different without realising what homosexuality even was.
One day, I heard my cousin telling my sister that she doesn’t feel comfortable around me because I look at her like a man. Slowly I began to understand that I was attracted to women, but I kept it secret. I didn’t want to go to hell, so I confided in our church youth coordinator. She was a beautiful woman. Surprisingly, she told me about queer people, and the necessity to accept difference. She later became my first love, but our story would only last for a short period of time – she went abroad to “study”, but never came back. With hindsight, now I think it was her way of escaping Cameroon.
“Coming to London was a relief right away from the airport… There were banners of queer people kissing each other, rainbow flags, same sex couples holding hands openly or broadcasted on TV. It was a signal I had to come out. So, I did.”
Traumatized by the sudden break-up, I fell into a deep depression, and I turned to the God who my mother said was against homosexuality. I engaged my life in Christ Jesus and turned my back on my past life as I considered the disappointment as a divine warning before burning in hell fire.
I got married to an abusive man. We had three children together. I was so unhappy. I never felt at ease until my brother invited me to the UK for the holidays after noticing I was constantly depressed.
Coming to London was a relief right away from the airport. There was a wind of relief, of victory, of freedom everywhere. There were banners of queer people kissing each other, rainbow flags, same sex couples holding hands openly or broadcasted on TV. It was a signal I had to come out. So, I did.
A burden was off my shoulders. But then the nightmare started. My husband threatened me with witchcraft if I ever went back to Cameroon. He told me I would never see my children again. Fortunately, my brother backed me up – he had a different understanding of life afte 20 years in the UK. He advised me not to return, fearing for my life, and to seek asylum, as he knew Human Rights are prioritised in this country. So, I did, against my will.
I met a friend who introduced me to Rainbow Migration. It was a gift from heaven at the appointed time. Without my caseworker Claire, I would have gone back. I was ready to die.
“Without my caseworker Claire, I would have gone back; I was ready to die… She helped me find a solicitor; she also helped me to provide basic needs like food and healthcare.”
Without Claire’s support I would have hurt myself. I was so depressed. She helped me find a solicitor for free. She also helped me to provide basic needs like food, healthcare and a scholarship for my homeless children, who were back home and had been abandoned by their father because of me, their lesbian mother.
It wasn’t easy but I stayed strong until I was granted refugee status and started my family reunion process which will mean I will be reunited with my family soon.
I’m forever grateful to Rainbow Migration and their devoted team, encouraging us day and night. Fighting for change, justice and freedom. Today, I have a better life; quiet and settling bit by bit. I have a girlfriend and we’re planning to get married once our children are reunited with us. Thank you.
This was originally posted at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/donas-story/
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