Staycey’s story
I am from Nigeria, which is a very dangerous place for LGBTQI+ people. Being gay is not accepted there – it’s a taboo, a curse. Society, and the government, are very religious and homophobic. You can get killed. When people in my community found out that I was a lesbian they attacked me; I was almost crushed to death.
I knew I needed to leave Nigeria and came to the UK around 2006/07. It is much safer for me here. When I first arrived, I didn’t know how the system worked. I wanted to be left alone because I was unsure if I could trust people after what had happened to me. I was scared and in a dark place for years. But it got better when I started socialising and going to LGBT meetings with Many Hands One Heart. I was really relieved to meet people here.
“I wasn’t sure if I could claim asylum as an LGBTQ person. The Home Office interview was stressful… I was so sad throughout it all. I felt alive but not alive.”
My first experience of claiming asylum wasn’t good. I wasn’t sure if I could claim asylum as an LGBTQI+ person. The Home Office interview was stressful and eventually I was refused. I made several more claims for asylum, and they were all refused. I was so frustrated and miserable. I tried so hard and went all over the place. I went to court in Manchester, and contacted solicitors in Glasgow, and Newcastle. I was so sad throughout it all. I felt like I was alive but not alive.
I was held in immigration detention once, in Yarl’s Wood, for two months in 2015. It was a nightmare. It’s hard to talk about. After my asylum claim was rejected, they came to my house and told me I had no case and would be detained. Detention is not a good place. It is a deadly experience. You don’t have any freedom; you can’t even see daylight. You don’t know how long you will be there. It could be months or years. It’s a disastrous experience for a person. Everyone in there was scared.
I really deteriorated while I was detained. My leg was still very damaged and swollen from the attack in Nigeria. I was very ill, but I got no treatment. It is so unhealthy to be in detention. You are always in your room with no sunlight, no fresh air. There are restrictions everywhere. The staff are OK, but they don’t give you good food to eat. No-one comes to check on you; you are left for hours and hours, with rubbish food, and no water. My health just got even worse.
I asked for help and medical treatment, but no-one responded because no-one cared. So I decided to protest. I needed to say enough is enough. We had no human rights, no voice. We weren’t criminals, we had not committed any crimes – but we were treated like slaves, locked up all day. We weren’t respected as humans. We needed to speak out. We needed the world to know this is not right.
“Detention is not a good place… You don’t know how long you will be there. It could be months or years. It’s a disastrous experience for a person. Everyone in there was scared.”
Not long after the protest they told me I can go home. I didn’t understand. No-one talks to you about your situation. You aren’t supported, nobody tells you when you will be released. I didn’t know if they meant Nigeria or home in the UK. I was scared after the protest they would remove me from the country, but they said I could go home in the UK. I got no warning and wasn’t told why I was released. I had nowhere to go, but luckily I could stay with a friend.
Immigration detention was a very bad experience, and I worry about being detained again. You are scared for your future. It is such an unhealthy place; it’s a disaster for your life. It’s not good for anyone, ever. It feels like it’s killing you.
This story was originally published at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/stayceys-story/
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Miki’s story
I am a gay man, from Azerbaijan. Azerbaijan is homophobic, and LGBTQI+ people are not supported. It is difficult for LGBTQI+ people to find jobs in Azerbaijan. We are targeted and constantly verbally and physicallyabused. Many LGBTI+ people are killed. There is nowhere safe to live. In schools, the workplace, in the community, on the street – LGBTQI+ people are attacked everywhere. They are beaten up openly, their money, phone and other belongings are stolen from them. They are in danger and in fear day and night. It is very unsafe to live openly as a gay man in Azerbaijan.
There is no legal protection, there is no culture of LGBTQI+ rights, or support. There is no safe, organised community. There are some gay apps available, but no-one really uses them, because you are so scared of anyone finding out. Nobody posts any pictures of themselves. It’s so stressful and scary, and when you meet up in person, it’s terrifying. A lot of the profiles on the apps are fake. The police pose as gay men, and then blackmail you, beat you up, and threaten to expose you to your family. If you are attacked, and report it to the police, they blame you. They can arrest you – they plant cocaine on you and arrest you for that. Police try to bribe you, ask for money, and if you don’t pay, they send photos to your family.
When my family found out, they were ashamed of me. They disowned me. I have five brothers. One kept threatening to kill me. He’d already been in jail, and I knew his threats were serious. I was not safe, so I fled to Moscow, and then the UK.
“I knew I wanted to stay in the UK, but I didn’t have any idea at all about how to go about it. I didn’t know anything about asylum.“
I arrived in the UK in July 2020, with a citizen work visa valid for six months. I worked as a fruit picker on a farm in a small town on the south coast.
While I was working on the farm, I met a guy. I had never been with a man before. It’s just too difficult, dangerous and scary to meet men in Azerbaijan. Even though I was in the UK now, I was still nervous. I didn’t even want to walk with him in public, because in Azerbaijan everyone wants to know your business. They ask questions about everything. People are very suspicious of you. Even though I was now in the UK, I still didn’t want to be seen in public with a gay man.
But he slowly made me feel more comfortable, and I started to feel better about myself. He was Lithuanian, and we could speak together in Russian. This made me feel at ease, and I could talk with him freely.
My life was getting better. I enjoyed working on the farm and I knew I wanted to stay in the UK, but I didn’t have any idea at all about how to go about it. I didn’t know anything about asylum. I did some research and looked for lots of different ways to stay, but my visa was only valid for six months and I was unsure if I could extend it.
Yet I knew I couldn’t go back to Azerbaijan because of so many problems with my family, and because I felt so unsafe there as a gay man.
My partner offered to support me. We lived together and we started the European Union Settlement application. We got all our documents together, attended appointments, and got quite a long way into the process. But then I started to have doubts. I visited London a few times and realised I wanted to explore the UK a bit more. I was confused about how to proceed and began to wonder what it is that will make me happy.
I finished working on the farm but was still living with this guy. Yet he had changed from the man I met; he was becoming quite difficult. The relationship had become very negative for me, and I decided to end it. It was a scary time; I didn’t have anywhere to go, and nowhere to live.
In December 2020 I claimed asylum. I was sent to a hotel. Even though I was pleased to have some accommodation, it was still very stressful for me. I just sat in my room all the time. It was very, very lonely.
I first contacted Rainbow Migration in December 2021. I spoke to Stuart, one of the Support Workers; he was so nice and told me not to worry. He said Rainbow Migration would find me a lawyer. The lawyer was excellent, she explained the whole process so clearly. It was a real relief for me.
I also had a Support Worker at Micro Rainbow; they could speak Russian, which I am more comfortable in than English; it really helped me to talk about my situation.
I was in the hotel for months. It was a very difficult time. This was during the COVID lockdowns, so I couldn’t do anything or go anywhere. The staff were horrible. They were rude, unhelpful, and discriminated against migrants. The food was so bad we couldn’t eat it, so we protested. It worked, and the quality of the food slightly improved, but they still treated us all terribly.
Eventually the Home Office moved me to accommodation in a town near Manchester. I was in a big house on my own. It was so lonely. I just sat in this big empty house by myself all day. I would go for walks and try and fill my time, but I always felt terrible. I was alone. There is no LGBTQI+ community there that I felt I could be a part of. It was also so difficult living on £38 a week. I couldn’t afford to do anything or go anywhere. I was just drinking and smoking all the time. I tried volunteering, to give myself some purpose and feel like I belonged to the local community, but it didn’t really work.
I was in that house for eight months. I was so depressed, always in a low mood. I didn’t know what to do. I went to the GP, and they gave me some anti-depressant medication. But I still felt awful. I was having nightmares every night.
The GP referred me to a crisis team, but I couldn’t afford the train ticket from the town to Manchester and back. Eventually I spoke to Migrant Help. By this time, I was in a deep depression. Migrant Help had to send an ambulance and the police to my place. Migrant Help made sure I spoke to someone every day.
“Being supported by Rainbow Migration made me realise that there really are some people in this country that do care and do want to help you. No matter your religion, nationality, or gender, they can be there for you. It’s amazing!”
I spoke to Laurie, a Support Worker at Rainbow Migration. We were often on the phone for over an hour. It was so nice. They were so keen to listen to me, to show that they care. They really helped me understand things. It made such a difference; it was like talking to an angel! I told them how isolated I was in that town, and they told me they could help me find more suitable accommodation. Within a week they found me a place to move to in London. I was relieved, and so happy! They understood that accommodation for LGBTQI+ migrants is particularly important because we may not be safe with very religious people, for example. Rainbow Migration and Micro Rainbow have both helped me get somewhere safe to live.
Being supported by Rainbow Migration made me realise that there really are some people in this country that do care and do want to help you. No matter your religion, nationality, or gender, they can be there for you. It’s amazing!
Once I was in London, I started going to group support sessions at Rainbow Migration twice a month. I met other people in situations like mine. It was so nice, and I really needed to meet people I could relate to after being isolated for so long. Coming to these support sessions made me realise how important organisations like Rainbow Migration are for LGBTQI+ migrants like me in the UK. I got help and advice from people who care.
When I have had really difficult times with depression and relationships, Stuart and Laurie have been amazing. They really looked out for me, helped me stay positive and move on. I really don’t know what I’d have done without them, and what my life would look like now. When you’re down, it’s so important to know there are people out there who want to help, and their support makes life so much easier. I don’t know how I can possibly show Rainbow Migration my appreciation. They made me feel like I’m not alone.
My life is so much better now. I’m very happy. I live in Essex, in accommodation for LGBTQI+ migrants, provided by Micro Rainbow. I feel safe and comfortable.
I went to Pride for the first time in 2022 and it was unbelievable, an absolutely amazing experience. It was my first time doing anything like that; it felt incredible to be out in the open as a gay man, feeling so proud.
I got granted refugee status in 2023, after waiting 2 years and 4 months. The asylum process is very difficult, and I needed lots of guidance throughout. I want to say thank you so much to Rainbow Migration for everything they’ve done for me. I couldn’t have made it without them. Their support has completely changed my life!
This story was originally published at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/mikis-story/
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Anel’s story
My name is Anel, I am a lesbian woman from Kazakhstan. My life in Kazakhstan was torture. I have short hair, and like wearing men’s clothes. People used to stare at me and call me names. It was very stressful to leave the house. It was always a challenge to protect myself and keep myself safe. Being LGBTQI+ is seen as a “foreign phase” in Kazakhstan. There is a quite big queer community now, but most people try and be as heteronormative as possible. It is much safer to conform to societal norms, and women are expected to be very feminine. Kazakh culture is reluctant to accept anything else, and generally people struggle to understand anyone who is different. I faced daily threats because people didn’t like the way I looked. It is difficult for anyone who is LGBTQI+, and if, like me, you don’t fit into gender stereotypes, life is very hard. You live in fear of everything, even your own family.
I came out to my mum in 2016; she said it was not normal, and that I would outgrow it. She took me to see a soothsayer; who predicted I would be married to a man for sure. My mother shared with me that she wants to send me to the USA to study but only if I marry a man and have two children by age 29. Most lesbians in Kazakhstan experience this kind of pressure and manipulation from their families.
I knew I wouldn’t be safe if I stayed in Kazakhstan. It was painful to accept that I couldn’t live my life as I wanted, that I couldn’t be myself. I was constantly stressed. I moved to China to study in 2018, and there I met my girlfriend. She is from Kyrgyzstan. I felt so much happier, but COVID meant we had to return to our home countries, and once the borders were closed, we had to look for somewhere else to be together.
“This country lets you be what you want to be, and people can accept this. It’s so much freer here… It’s so beautiful to me.”
Eventually we found an initiative to be a farmworker in the UK; we applied, we both got accepted, and we arrived in the country in May 2022. However, we were quickly separated again. I was placed on a farm in London, but my girlfriend was sent to work in Scotland. It was heartbreaking. My partner’s farm was awful; she had to endure terrible living conditions, and she wasn’t treated well. Thankfully she was eventually able to transfer to the farm I was working at. It was tough work, but we were so happy to finally be back together. We fell in love with each other all over again!
In July 2022 we went to London Pride. It was amazing. Everyone was so free; everyone was so happy! It was incredible to see so many people there together, as a community, being just what they want to be. People were smiling at us and telling us what a beautiful couple we are! It was unbelievable, and to be honest, even shocking to us. This country lets you be what you want to be, and people can accept this. I don’t feel I am going to be randomly attacked everyday just for being me. It’s so much freer here than where I am from. It’s so beautiful to me.
We applied for asylum in September 2022; in the process I heard from one guy about the possibility of claiming asylum as an LGBTQI+ person. He told me Micro Rainbow could help with accommodation, and then a close friend told me about Rainbow Migration. I got in touch, and they helped us, advising us on what we can do.
In November 2023 I needed to find a new lawyer and I got a call from Zehrah from the legal team at Rainbow Migration. She spoke to me for over 45 minutes and gave a lot of very helpful advice. She told me she will help me prepare for the asylum process and answered all my questions. She was so professional, very easy to talk to, and made me feel comfortable. I liked talking to her, and it made such a difference to have someone really listen to me and offer so much support.
I also spoke to Ayesha, the Legal Service Manager. She contacted me and gave me more information about pro bono lawyers. Then a few weeks later, one of the lawyers got in touch to say they had accepted my case. Zehrah came with me to the first meeting with the lawyer, in December 2023. I was so shocked – it was a very big law firm in central London. I was totally overwhelmed. I am so, so grateful to Rainbow Migration, because without their legal team, I would never have got access to such a big, international law firm. A whole team of four lawyers worked on my case. It was unbelievable, like some miracle happened!
I knew we needed to prepare quickly for the Home Office interviews, and Zehrah and Ayesha were always there for us throughout the process. They oversaw everything, knew exactly what was going on, and were always clear about what we should expect. They were amazing.
“I was granted refugee status in February. It was like a dream come true. It is so frustrating to seek asylum. You feel so alone. You can’t work, you can’t use your skills. You feel useless. You dream of getting status. Once you get it, your life can begin again.”
I had my second interview in January 2024 and was granted refugee status in February. It was like a dream come true. It is so frustrating to seek asylum. You feel so alone. You can’t work, you can’t use your skills. You feel useless. You dream of getting status. Once you get it, your life can begin again. You can’t make excuses anymore. It is such a happy moment, but you also feel a bit weird. I am still processing everything that has happened.
Now I can start thinking about my future. We want to get married and start a family. We want to travel, and maybe even open a business, or start a charity. We really want to help other people. We are hopeful, positive, and optimistic. We are looking forward to living safely and freely as a lesbian couple.
I am so glad we got help from Rainbow Migration. I am still shocked by how much they did for me; I didn’t expect it. I am so, so thankful for everything.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Faisal AKA Etlala’s story
My name is Faisal AKA Etlala. I am non-binary and gay. I was born in Saudi Arabia, which is hell for LGBTQ+ people. I first came to the UK in 2019 and wanted to apply for asylum, but I didn’t know how. I was totally ignorant of the LGBTQI+ asylum process. I was in London and asked lots of people for help, but I was given bad advice. Sadly, I ended up in the hands of traffickers. I managed to get away and decided to go back to Saudi Arabia.
But life was very difficult for me in Saudi, and I came back to the UK in November 2022. I liked being in London. I felt so free in Soho! I didn’t want to have the same problems as my first time here, so I started looking for advice. I had to be persistent and insistent, because when you don’t know how the system works it can be so hard to get help or to know who you can trust. It feels like you have no-one to turn to. I did lots of research, and I realised I could claim asylum on the basis of my sexual orientation or gender identity.
“I was having lots of problems in the government hostels I was placed in… You have no freedom in these places, you feel so trapped, especially when you are LGBTQI+.”
I found out about Rainbow Migration and got in touch. I got referred to Ayesha, who told me how the asylum process works, and what I had to do. I finally felt like I was getting the right support. I was so relieved, especially when she put me in touch with a lawyer – she even came with me to visit them for the first time. I really appreciated it, I felt so much more comfortable with her there with me.
However, I was having lots of problems in the government hostels I was placed in. Often, I was around people who made me feel very unwelcome. They were so rude to me, calling me names and always threatening me, telling me I was a bad person. I was so uncomfortable; I didn’t feel safe at all. Normally I try and be as happy as possible, but in the hostels, I felt so sad and lifeless. You have no freedom in these places, you feel so trapped, especially when you are LGBTQI+.
Eventually the Home Office sent me to the Bibby Stockholm barge. It was hell; I felt so unsafe it was like being back in Saudi Arabia. At times like this, my experience in the UK has been just as difficult as my country of origin. Unfortunately, I have faced a lot of homophobia from other people seeking asylum. I was treated very badly on the Bibby Stockholm. At first, I had to share a room. Then after a few days I got to have my own room, which was better. I had some privacy, and good facilities. But everything else was awful. The staff were also so cruel, they treated all of us staying there very badly. They are always watching you, searching you, making you feel anxious. Once I went outside for some fresh air, and the staff made me take my jacket off. It was so cold, and I had nothing on underneath, and they laughed at me. The staff would say that people seeking asylum are only here on vacation. We were always being told to “go home”, they were always trying to get rid of us. It was horrible.
Someone took their own life while I was there. There were police and ambulances everywhere. It was chaotic, and very scary. No-one would tell us what was going on and the staff ignored me when I asked them. I spoke to Ayesha at Rainbow Migration, and she confirmed what was going on. It was awful, it was terrifying. I was so anxious all the time.
I was held on the Bibby Stockholm for two months. Afterwards I was sent to Manchester. Then I had two Home Office interviews. When I first came to the UK, they asked me lots of very invasive questions. It didn’t feel professional, but you must try to answer as best you can. I was very nervous to have another interview with them, but Ayesha and Rainbow Migration helped me through it.
“I was granted refugee status in March 2024. I cried when I found out.”
I was granted refugee status in March 2024. I cried when I found out. I was so shocked. I knew that lots of the people I’d met on the Bibby Stockholm had been refused and removed from the country, and I was expecting the same to happen to me. I was so relieved.
I am so happy to be able to stay in the UK. Yet life is still very challenging. It’s so hard to seek asylum – then it’s so hard to start your new life once you get granted refugee status. I can’t explain how difficult it is, especially when you are LGBTQI+.
Accommodation is still a challenge. Throughout the whole process I have been moved around to lots of places which aren’t safe. Since I have been granted status, I have been homeless on several occasions, with no options for safe accommodation at all. The council haven’t taken me seriously, and I am still looking for the right place to live. LGBTQI+ migrants need to be made to feel safer in Home Office accommodation! It is very difficult to go through asylum and live in these places as a non-binary person.
But I am happier and feel better in Manchester. I have a few friends who are supporting me, and it’s a good city to be queer. It’s an exciting place to be, and I am starting to build a life here. I am meeting people and making new friends. I am slowly beginning to feel more positive. I have started dreaming again. I would love to be a singer. Singing and performing is an escape, it makes me so happy, and being on stage really liberates me.
I am excited for my future – I didn’t think I ever would be again. I have Rainbow Migration and Willkie Farr & Gallagher to thank for that. Without them I wouldn’t have got refugee status. Ayesha was with me every step of the way. I want to say thank you so much.
This story was originally published at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/faisal-aka-etlalas-story/
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/
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Adams’ story
I am a bisexual man from Ghana, in West Africa. In Ghana they do not accept bisexual or gay men. There are some more open-minded people there, but generally society is very homophobic, including much of my family, who wanted me to change. I was violently attacked in the street on several occasions, and I knew it wasn’t safe for me stay in Ghana as an openly bisexual man.
I moved to London in the summer of 2011. At first, I lived in London. It was a difficult experience from the very beginning. Although I was really happy to be in the UK, I still didn’t feel I was safe to be myself and live openly. I didn’t tell anyone about my sexuality. I was really struggling with my mental health. I didn’t feel good about myself or my life, my health started to suffer, and I began to have problems with my memory. The first few years in London were really challenging for me.
“I was violently attacked in the street on several occasions, and I knew it wasn’t safe for me stay in Ghana as an openly bisexual man.”
I moved to Nottingham in 2019, moving from place to place and staying on people’s sofas. I was always sad and didn’t know what to do to improve my life.
It took me a long time to claim asylum, because I was struggling so much with my mental health and my living situation. I first claimed asylum in 2019. One day I went to a police station to ask for advice. I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t know anything about asylum, or about how to claim asylum. I spent the night at the police station. They contacted the immigration office, and I spoke to an officer the next day. She told me a little bit about the process and explained what I had to do. She asked me about my life, my background, my country, and my story, but it was difficult for me to talk about it.
Adams and Leila Zadeh during the Attitude Pride Awards ceremony in 2022
The process of claiming asylum was so bad. I didn’t have a good lawyer. I couldn’t provide any evidence of my sexual orientation. I had no chance to be connected to any LGBTQI communities or organisations. I didn’t have any evidence of my sexuality, or anything which proved I was in danger because I am bisexual.
The process was slow and difficult. And then in late 2019, I got detained, and spent three months in immigration detention.
Detention was a very negative experience, but while I was detained someone told me about LGBTQI organisations and support networks in the UK. I had no idea these places existed! I asked my lawyer if they could contact some of these organisations for me, but they said no, that it wasn’t appropriate while I was in detention.
In December 2019 my asylum claim was rejected, the refusal letter said I had no evidence of my sexuality or any connection to LGBTQ communities. I challenged the decision of the Home Office, who gave me 14 days to file an appeal. But I was still in detention, so it continued being very difficult to get together any proof of my sexual orientation.
I was released from detention 7 days after the refusal letter, so I only had one week to get any evidence and documents for my appeal. I went to court in early January 2020, but the appeal was dismissed because again I couldn’t gather the right evidence to prove that I am LGBTQ. My lawyer had also made a mistake with some of my personal details, so this just made the whole process longer and more difficult.
“Detention was a very negative experience, but while I was detained someone told me about LGBTQI organisations and support networks in the UK. I had no idea these places existed!”
After that I had to travel to Croydon, from Nottingham, once a week, to report to my immigration officer. On one occasion they arrested me again, and I was detained in Gatwick airport for 5 weeks. I was eventually granted bail and released just before lockdown started.
I tried to claim asylum again, but they said my word alone wasn’t credible, and they rejected the evidence I did provide, because there had been mistakes made with my ID and other documents by my previous lawyers. I told them lots of stories about me which prove my sexuality, but they didn’t believe any of them. All I had was myself and my sexuality, but they said that wasn’t enough. It’s so difficult to get evidence of your sexuality, especially as a black African man. No-one wants to associate with you, so you can’t be out, or live openly as a bisexual man.
Everything in my life was chaotic and hectic. I had no money. Some days I was so poor I couldn’t eat. I spent my time just walking around Nottingham and doing nothing. My life was so bad. I had to rely on friends to help me every week. My accommodation was so bad. Sometimes I had to stay on sofas at friends’ houses. I had no privacy, no freedom. I didn’t want to take advantage of people’s kindness, so I moved around a lot.
Then I remembered what the person in detention told me, and I started looking for LGBTQ organisations which might be able to help me. And thank God I found Rainbow Migration! They helped me so much, from the very first phone call. I give thanks to them all, especially my Support Workers and the legal advisors. I joined the men’s support group, and it was so helpful to speak to other people in my situation.
“Thank God I found Rainbow Migration! They helped me so much, from the very first phone call. I give thanks to them all, especially my Support Workers and the legal advisors. I joined the men’s support group, and it was so helpful to speak to other people in my situation.”
The Rainbow Migration legal service worked so hard to get me a lawyer. My experiences with lawyers had been so negative before, but I finally got a good lawyer thanks to Rainbow Migration. She was the first lawyer to talk to me about my mental health issues, and how important they were, not just for my case, but for me personally. I hadn’t really thought about it like that before, and I am still in therapy now. My mind is not stable, I forget things easily. Often, I can’t remember details, or things I’ve said or been told, from even the day before. Throughout my entire time in the UK I have struggled with my mental health, and it’s one of the reasons why it took me so long to claim asylum. It has impacted every single thing I do. My lawyer was the first person to recognise this, and she managed to get me a therapist. She was patient with me and treated me with respect. She made allowances for my mental health. Previous lawyers had not been very helpful at all, but this new lawyer I got through Rainbow Migration made me feel so much better about myself and my asylum case.
I was granted asylum in 2022. It was such a relief! It has made me feel so much better. Now I can start making plans. I have children and I need to bring them here to be with me. I went back to school to get my education, and I want to go into mental health support and healthcare. I am looking for work experience, and to get all my qualifications. I want to work hard! I also want to start my own photography business. Back in Ghana I was a professional photographer and I really want to start being creative again.
I still have a long way to go and lots of challenges, even though I have the legal right to stay in the UK now. I need to sort out my accommodation, as my current place is only temporary. My Support Worker at Rainbow Migration has helped me so much with accommodation, and I appreciate everything they have done for me. My next big goal is to get permanent, safe housing, and try and start my new life. I want to take care of my children and work hard for a better life.
I need to give thanks to Rainbow Migration for all their support; they are marvellous! I don’t know how I can thank them. In July 2022 I went to an awards ceremony with Rainbow Migration and was interviewed about my experience as an LGBTQI person in the asylum system. It was an amazing experience! It has really helped me feel better. I almost felt famous! Seeing myself in a magazine as an out bisexual man has been such a positive experience, and I cannot thank Rainbow Migration enough for the opportunity. I owe them so much, because they have really helped me turn my life around.
This story was originally posted at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/adams-story/
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