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 )Olu’s story
My name is Olu. I am a lesbian woman from Nigeria, where it is an abomination to be a lesbian. I tried to deny myself that I’m a lesbian just to honour my parents and make myself be what they wanted me to be. I even got married to a man and had children. When my husband found out that I liked women, I was nearly killed.
I came to the UK to seek asylum because I had been on holiday here and it’s the only place that I know well apart from my country. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t even know that I could claim asylum based on my sexuality.
I claimed asylum but it was a very difficult experience. I had scars and plasters from the violent attacks back home, but still the Home Office didn’t believe I was a lesbian.
“Your immigration status as an asylum seeker shuts the door on you for so many things. The whole process made me doubt myself.”
The asylum process has been really heartbreaking for me. I was expecting to be welcomed, to be embraced, and that they [the government] would help me out but they are adding more terror into my life. Your immigration status as an asylum seeker shuts the door on you for so many things. The whole process made me doubt myself. I felt worthless. When you are seeking asylum you can’t work, and I had to give up my dream of higher education at university, because I couldn’t get funding. It was overwhelming and exhausting for me. I was sofa surfing and waiting on people or organisations to support me with literally everything. You can’t think clearly, and it pushed me to the edge – sometimes I thought about ending it all.
Eventually I had to start a fresh claim. When you claim on the basis of being LGBT+, you have to prove yourself. At one point the Home Office put me in accommodation in a remote location, where there were no LGBTQI+ services or activities. It was so hard to be so isolated, especially when the Home Office then asks for evidence of my participation in any LGBTQI+ events.
“I eventually found Rainbow Migration, who helped me secure foodand phone top-ups and provided emotional support.”
All of this affected me mentally and physically. I’ve been homeless. Lots of things have happened to me that make me feel no sense of belonging.
I eventually found Rainbow Migration, who helped me secure food and phone top-ups and provided emotional support. I also got in touch with Naz and Matt Foundation, Galop, and Micro Rainbow, who helped me when I was homeless. I couldn’t have done without all this support; thank you!
*We are happy to say that Olu was granted refugee status in 2024. Upon telling us her good news, she quoted Laurel Hubbard, the first openly trans woman to compete at the Olympic Games.
“There are moments of high mood, there are moments of low mood, there are moments of injury, there are moments of progress, there are moments of stagnation. All we can do is to keep on pushing.”
This was originally posted at: https://www.rainbowmigration.org.uk/stories/olus-story/
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LGBT IMMIGRATION STORIES 