IDAHOBIT Day 2026

(Remembering LGBT+ refugees whose voice is often silenced)

Why May 17th?

Today’s date is not arbitrary. On 17 May 1990, the World Health Organisation removed homosexuality from its International Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems (ICD), formally ending its designation as a mental disorder. It was a landmark moment: a recognition that queer people are not sick, not deviant, not in need of cure or correction. Yet thirty-six years later, that hard-won ground is being eroded. Conversion practices remain legal in many countries and are experiencing a quiet resurgence, including the USA which currently has many anti-LGBTIQ bills and anti-trans bills in progress. Transgender identities are increasingly framed in political and legal discourse as a pathology requiring intervention. IDAHOBIT Day exists to mark how far we have come, and to remind us that the battle the WHO helped settle in 1990 is not lost.

Today is the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia, or IDAHOBIT. It is a day to mark, to remember, and to refuse to look away.

Across the world, being queer can still cost you your home, your safety, your life.

In more than 60 countries, homosexuality remains criminalised. In some, it carries the death penalty. In Uganda, the Anti-Homosexuality Act has driven thousands of people from their homes, their families, their communities, fleeing not just prejudice but imprisonment, torture, and murder. It is the same in Tanzania, Rwanda, and many other nations across Africa and the Middle East and the Commonwealth. People run for their lives, often with nothing, heading for the nearest border and whatever uncertain safety lies beyond it.

This is not only an African story. Across Asia, the Middle East and beyond, 64 countries criminalise same-sex relations, with the death penalty legally prescribed in at least twelve of them.

None of this happened by accident. The Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Act, and laws like it across Africa, did not emerge fully formed from local politics. US evangelical activists — among them Scott Lively, who travelled to Kampala in 2009 to meet with politicians, pastors and community leaders — helped provide the ideological framework and the legislative language. Organisations like Family Watch International have spent years and significant funding exporting their culture war to countries where the consequences are not protests or political setbacks, but imprisonment, torture, and flight. The people in Kakuma are not only victims of African homophobia. Some of them are there because of US politics pursued abroad.

Nor is this only a story about distant governments. In April 2025, the United Kingdom’s Supreme Court ruled that the word “woman” in the Equality Act refers to biological sex — a ruling with immediate practical consequences for trans people’s access to services, shelters, and legal protections. Many of the countries that criminalise homosexuality are Commonwealth nations, shaped by British colonial law. The line between the countries that imprison queer people and the countries that legislate them out of public life is less clear than it is comfortable to believe.

Some of them end up in Kakuma, or in Gorom.

Kenya Police tear gas LGBT+ refugees in Kakuma Refugee Camp.

Kakuma is a refugee camp in the remote north-west of Kenya. Gorom is a refugee settlement in South Sudan. Both are harsh, remote, under-resourced places at the edges of the world, the kind of places that exist precisely because the rest of the world has decided it doesn’t need to look too closely.

Both are home to LGBTQI+ refugees who fled persecution in Uganda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Sudan, Somalia and beyond, people who ran for their lives because of who they are, and arrived hoping for safety. What many found was more of the same.


Machetes in Kakuma refugee camp

In Kakuma, LGBTQI+ refugees face homophobic and transphobic attacks from other refugees and from locals. They are beaten, stabbed, burned out of their shelters. They are denied medical care. They cannot work. Their food rations from the World Food Programme — already meagre — now last less than a week, because the Trump administration’s sweeping cuts to foreign aid have gutted the humanitarian system that kept them alive.

They wait for resettlement that may never come. They await a world that will acknowledge they exist.


IDAHOBIT exists because the world keeps forgetting.

It needs reminding that homophobia and transphobia are not distant abstractions; they are policies, laws, and fists. They are people sleeping in shifts, taking turns to stand guard through the night against attack. They are mothers separated from children. They are people surviving on hot water and grass soup.

They are human beings who asked for nothing more than to live honestly and safely, and were told that was too much to ask.

IDAHOBIT is not a celebration of what has been won, but a reminder of what remains unfinished.

Days like this matter only if they change something for the people who cannot wait for the world to catch up. If you want to make that change real, support the organisations that keep them alive.

If you would like to support LGBTQI+ refugees in Kakuma, Gorom and beyond:

MAREPA — emergency shelter for LGBTQI+ refugees in Nairobi, Kenya

Rainbow Railroad — helping LGBTQI+ people escape persecution worldwide

Queer Pride Africa — GoFundMe — refugee-led sustainable projects in Kakuma

Kakuma Refugee Camp — Food, Medication & Security — GoFundMe — direct support for LGBTQI+ refugees in the camp

Amnesty International Australia — advocacy for refugee and human rights protection

I am also happy to advise people on how to assist individuals or extended families and communities across Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania and other African problem areas.

©2026 Geoff Allshorn. I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared. Some editorial/artistic assistance supplied by Claude AI.

This Mother’s Day, Remember Her

Artist: Louis Chow.

She didn’t choose to flee her home.

She didn’t choose to gather her children in the dark and run: from war, from persecution, from a government that wanted her family dead, from militias that burned villages, from bombs that fell on schools, from the kind of danger that makes a leaking boat in open water seem like the safer option.

She didn’t choose to have her children ostracised, attacked and forced to flee home and family because of their sexuality.

She didn’t choose years of living in limbo… in camps, in temporary shelters, in bureaucratic purgatory… while the UNHCR processes and defers, while her children grow up without permanence, without a future they can count on, without a place to call home, or a community to call village or family.

She didn’t choose to have her case ignored, delayed, or denied by nations that speak of compassion and practise indifference.

She didn’t choose to flee to countries in Europe or Australia, only to be met with suspicion, hostility, and hatred… told she is a burden, a threat, an inconvenience… by people who have never had to choose between danger and dignity.

She didn’t choose to live under the shadow of forced deportation: to watch governments like the current United States administration tear families apart and send people back to the very dangers they escaped, caring nothing for what awaits them there.

She didn’t choose to watch her children go hungry in refugee camps stripped of funding, camps where foreign aid was cancelled, where food ran out, where clean water became unavailable, where medicines disappeared, because powerful men in powerful countries decided her children’s lives were unimportant.

She didn’t choose any of this.

She chose only to fight against all odds to keep her children alive; to keep going when everything said stop.

She chose to love fiercely in conditions designed to break her.

On Mother’s Day, we celebrate the mothers we know and love. But let’s also hold space for the mothers we never see: the ones at the edges of our world, carrying the unbearable with grace we will never be asked to find.

They are mothers too.


Photo by Ante Emmanuel (Pexels)

This Mother’s Day, consider supporting organisations working with refugee families and those most at risk:


©2026 Geoff Allshorn. I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared. Some editorial/research assistance supplied by Claude AI.

Silenced but Unbroken

The Struggle of LGBTQ Refugees in East Africa

By Charity*

Photo supplied

For many refugees, displacement is already a story of loss, survival, and hope. But for LGBTQ refugees, it is often a story of double persecution — fleeing danger in their home countries only to face new threats in the very places meant to protect them.

I know this reality not from reports or headlines, but from lived experience.

In 2022, I was arrested in Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya alongside three other transgender women. Our only “crime” was existing openly as who we are. Life in the camp was marked by constant fear. Transphobic individuals targeted us regularly — through threats, harassment, and violence.

Despite reporting these incidents, our voices were often ignored within systems that were supposed to protect us.

We were told, directly and indirectly, to stay silent. But silence was never an option.

We chose to speak out, to organize, and to demand visibility. Our advocacy grew stronger, and so did the backlash. At one point, a Kenyan senator initiated a committee to investigate why LGBTQ refugees were in the camp. Instead of addressing the violence we faced, we were accused of “spreading homosexuality,” as if our existence was a threat.

Still, we refused to disappear.

Threats from the Senator in 2023 (photo supplied)

We organized a Pride event in the camp — a bold act of resilience and visibility. For a moment, it felt like we were reclaiming our dignity. But that moment was short-lived. Police officers arrived and dismantled our celebration, reinforcing the message that we were not welcome, even in spaces we tried to create for ourselves.

Months later, the situation escalated further. The camp manager issued a directive ordering all LGBTQ individuals to leave Kakuma or face arrest. When we requested legal documentation to leave safely, it was denied. Instead, arrests began.

We were trapped — told to leave, but denied the means to do so.

In a desperate search for safety, we made a difficult decision during a community meeting: to flee. South Sudan was the closest option, and despite the risks, we crossed the border hoping for protection.

But the challenges followed us.

Discrimination, insecurity, and lack of protection persisted.

Yet, even in the face of repeated hardship, we did not give up.

Through continued advocacy and the support of international allies, I was eventually relocated to Canada. Today, I live in safety — but my journey is far from over. My voice carries the stories of many who are still left behind.

In places like Gorom Refugee Camp in South Sudan, LGBTQ refugees continue to endure violence, exclusion, and neglect. They remain invisible in policies, unheard in systems, and unprotected in spaces meant to offer refuge. Many are still waiting for resettlement, for recognition, and for the basic dignity every human being deserves.

This is why I continue to speak out.

(Remembering LGBT+ refugees whose voice is often silenced)

International Priorities

Resettlement countries such as Canada should urgently prioritize LGBTQ refugees in refugee camps because they face layered and life-threatening vulnerabilities that go far beyond the general hardships of displacement. Unlike other refugee groups, LGBTQ individuals are often exposed to targeted violence, discrimination, and social exclusion both from within refugee communities and sometimes from local authorities, leaving them without meaningful protection or safe living conditions.

In many camps, there are limited or no specialized services such as safe housing, mental health support, protection mechanisms, or confidential reporting systems that address their specific needs. As a result, LGBTQ refugees are frequently forced to live in constant fear, isolation, and invisibility, where even accessing basic humanitarian assistance can expose them to further harm. Prioritizing their resettlement is therefore not about preference, but about protection of the most at-risk individuals within already vulnerable populations.

Countries like Canada, which have strong human rights commitments, have both the capacity and moral responsibility to ensure that LGBTQ refugees are given urgent pathways to safety, dignity, and long-term protection.

The international community must act urgently to protect LGBTQ refugees. This includes ensuring safe and inclusive asylum systems, addressing discrimination within refugee camps, and accelerating resettlement processes for those at risk.

Silence and inaction only deepen the suffering.

We are not asking for special treatment — we are asking for safety, dignity, and the right to exist.

Our resilience should not be mistaken for acceptance of injustice. We have endured, resisted, and survived. But survival is not enough.

It is time for the world to listen. It is time for change.

*Charity is an activist and refugee advocate who has previously written articles from Kakuma and Gorom.


This blog ©2026 Geoff Allshorn. All rights are hereby returned to the author. I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared.

Protection Briefing

Published to coincide with International Human Solidarity Day 2025

Protection Briefing: Protection Challenges and Advocacy Engagement for LGBTQ Refugees in Gorom Refugee Settlement, South Sudan

Prepared by: Trans Initiative Gorom

Period Covered: May 2025 – Present

Purpose: To highlight protection concerns, advocacy engagement, and priority needs of LGBTQ refugees

1. Executive Summary

Since May 2025, LGBTQ refugees in Gorom Refugee Settlement have experienced increased protection concerns linked to changes in settlement arrangements and heightened community tensions. These developments have contributed to fear, instability, and uncertainty regarding safety and access to protection. Through advocacy, documentation, and engagement with UNHCR and international partners, LGBTQ refugees and community advocates have sought protection-oriented responses and durable solutions. While engagement has helped reduce some immediate risks, significant protection gaps remain.

2. Background and Context

LGBTQ refugees in Gorom Refugee Settlement have faced long-standing vulnerabilities related to discrimination, visibility, and social exclusion across refugee settings over several years. These challenges have affected access to services, safety, and overall well-being.

Following arrival in Gorom, proposals were made to relocate LGBTQ refugees to alternative locations, including remote camp settings. Community members raised concerns regarding isolation, limited access to information, and potential protection risks in such environments. Advocacy and dialogue with UNHCR and other relevant actors emphasized the importance of protection-sensitive approaches and individual risk assessments.

As a result of this engagement, relocation to remote settings was paused, and individual-level processes were initiated. While challenges persisted in Gorom, these efforts reduced immediate exposure to heightened protection risks.

3. Engagement on Durable Solutions

Given the prolonged protection challenges faced by LGBTQ refugees, community advocates engaged UNHCR to explore durable solutions. Many LGBTQ refugees have experienced repeated insecurity across multiple displacement contexts, highlighting the need for long-term protection pathways.

In 2024, some cases were referred for resettlement consideration through established UNHCR processes. However, during the Trump administration, the United States refugee resettlement program was suspended, resulting in the interruption of these resettlement pathways and increased uncertainty for individuals already facing heightened protection risks.

4. Recent Developments and Protection Impact

In early 2025, new settlement-level directives affecting LGBTQ refugees contributed to increased fear, instability, and concerns about safety. These developments resulted in disruptions to daily life, increased movement, and heightened anxiety among LGBTQ refugees.

The situation underscored the need for:

  • Protection-sensitive programming
  • Non-discriminatory access to services
  • Individualized protection assessments
  • Continued engagement between UNHCR and affected communities
  • 5. Advocacy and Community Engagement

    LGBTQ refugees and community advocates prioritized advocacy, documentation, and engagement with UNHCR, international partners, and humanitarian actors to raise awareness of protection needs. These efforts focused on constructive dialogue, visibility of protection concerns, and strengthening community-based protection mechanisms.

    Advocacy contributed to increased attention from international actors and reinforced the importance of inclusive and protection-centered approaches within the broader refugee response.

    6. Ongoing Protection Gaps

    Despite continued engagement, key challenges remain:

  • Limited availability of durable solutions for LGBTQ refugees at heightened risk
  • Persistent fear and uncertainty regarding safety
  • Insufficient access to safe and inclusive shelter options
  • Limited availability of specialized psychosocial and protection support
  • 7. Priority Recommendations

    We respectfully encourage UNHCR, donor governments, and humanitarian partners to:

    • Expand resettlement opportunities for LGBTQ refugees facing heightened protection risks
    • Increase protection-focused funding for inclusive shelter, psychosocial support, and community-based protection
    • Ensure non-discriminatory protection practices across all refugee assistance and services
    • Strengthen protection monitoring and community engagement mechanisms
    • Continue dialogue with LGBTQ refugee-led groups to inform protection responses

    8. Positive Developments

    We acknowledge and appreciate the engagement of resettlement countries, including Canada, in providing protection pathways to some LGBTQ refugees from Gorom. These examples demonstrate the life-saving impact of targeted protection interventions and the importance of expanding such opportunities.

    9. Conclusion: A Shared Responsibility

    The situation of LGBTQ refugees in Gorom highlights both ongoing protection challenges and the value of sustained advocacy and engagement with UNHCR and international partners. Continued support is essential to ensure safety, dignity and access to durable solutions for LGBTQ refugees facing heightening risks.

    Donor governments supporting the humanitarian response in Gorom play a vital role and can further strengthen protection by expanding resettlement slots for LGBTQI refugees most at risk. UNHCR remains central to coordinating protection responses and advancing durable solutions through continued engagement with affected communities.

    Donors and humanitarian partners can support flexible, protection-focused funding that prioritizes safety, shelter, and psychosocial support. Activists and civil society can continue to raise awareness responsibly, amplify refugee voices, and advocate for inclusive protection pathways. Together, these actions can help ensure that LGBTQI refugees are not left without options for safety and dignity.

    See Also:

    Geoff Allshorn and others, 1 June 2025. “When I Needed A Neighbour, Were You There?”, Humanist World blog.

    Daniel Itai, 28 May 2024. “South Sudan refugee camp is ‘not a safe haven’ for LGBTQ residents”, Washington Blade.

    Joto La Jiwe, 8 August 2025. “LGBTQI+ refugees in South Sudan trapped between a rock and a hard place”, 76 Crimes.

    Abraham Junior, 20 June 2025. “The forgotten struggle: LGBTQ refugees and asylum seekers in South Sudan”, Washington Blade.

    Abraham Junior, 2 September 2025. “We Exist, We Resist, We Are Not Invisible: Queer, Atheist, and Humanist Refugees in South Sudan”, The Humanist magazine.

    Paula Caro Rojas, 25 October 2024. “Surviving in the Gorom refugee camp in South Sudan”, Melting Pot Europa.

    Staff Writer, 21 June 2025. “LGBTQ+ Refugees in Gorom Denied Medical and Legal Help”, Radioyei.


    This blog ©2025 Geoff Allshorn. All rights hereby returned to the authors of this report, who can be contacted through me.
    I show my respect for Elders past and present and acknowledge the Wurundjeri-Willam people, the Traditional Custodians of the Land on which this blog was prepared.