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.
Today marks exactly seven years since I took a stand for my community. On this day, as an LGBTIQ+ refugee who had fled persecution from my country, and after my own family excommunicated me because of my sexual orientation, I began advocating for more than 300 LGBTIQ+ refugees from Kakuma Refugee Camp: people who had endured violence, threats, and suffering for decades, simply for being who they are.
On December 11, 2018
fear filled the air,
hate wrote death threats on walls,
and even places meant for protection
could not keep us safe.
Yet we stood.
Twenty-one were moved first —
injured bodies, trembling spirits —
to receive medication, shelter,
and a chance at life beyond the camp.
That moment opened the path
to mass resettlement,
to survival beyond Kakuma.
I was the chairman.
So I became the target.
I paid with my body —
my hand, my index finger, gone.
When I see the scars,
my memory runs back to that day,
to pain that carried purpose,
to sacrifice that saved lives.
Three hundred souls
pulled back from violence.
Three hundred futures
no longer written in fear.
Today Joseph lives in Nairobi: alive, displaced, homeless and unbroken.
“If these words reach you, I humbly ask for support for safe shelter, for dignity, and for the chance to celebrate Christmas not on the streets, but in safety and peace.” These scars are my testimony. They tell the world that courage has a cost and that love, even in exile can rescue hundreds.
Anyone who wants to help Joseph is welcome to contact me, and we can arrange for help to be sent directly to him. His immediate need is for $100 AUS, which would see him get shelter into the New Year, plus an asthma inhaler.
Memory is not enough. Attention is not guaranteed. Justice must be demanded.
World AIDS Day is not just a memorial. It is a challenge.
This post is a challenge between the past and the present silence that endangers lives. It honours those lost, confronts ongoing injustice, and insists that we remember not only what happened, but what continues to unfold. From Melbourne to Kampala, from memory to moral action, our imperative to care must be honoured.
Early badge from VAAC (Victorian AIDS Action Council – later VAC and now Thorne-Harbour Health)
In a recent social media post, people were asked for their recollection of the 1980s and 1990s. Most of them happily recalled musicians or musical groups, movies, videotapes, the arrival of home computers, or generally reminisced about “the good old days” before the arrival of modern-day stresses.
My recollections are somewhat different.
The 1980s marked my arrival into young adulthood. Work. Freedom. Autonomy. Meeting others and developing my first extended family outside of my biological one (like Mary Anne Singleton and Mouse from “Tales of the City”). But the times also featured the insidious arrival of a terrible epidemic that started attacking and killing many of my friends.
The next fifteen years were frantic, full of illnesses and deaths, of stigma and discrimination, of angst and activism. There were days and months full of pain and fear and people living in a double closet: homosexuality and HIV.
Very few people nowadays seem to either know about (or recall) those days when a whole generation of young men (and others) was effectively decimated. How quickly we forget, especially because there are lessons we can learn a generation later. It seems the stigma of AIDS lingers a generation later.
This is not just an academic exercise. I recently learnt of the death from HIV/AIDS of an African Facebook friend. The dangers and outcomes are still very real.
Over forty years later, the virus still claims lives; not in the same neighbourhoods, perhaps, but in communities across Africa and Asia where silence and stigma persist. The difference now is not ignorance, but indifference. We know what works. We know what saves lives. And yet, we ignore.
In Uganda and Kenya, millions live under laws and social norms that stigmatise or criminalize their existence: laws shaped not by local tradition, but by imported hate. In 2023, Uganda passed one of the world’s harshest anti-LGBTQ+ laws, introducing the death penalty for so-called “aggravated homosexuality.” These laws were seeded by decades of lobbying from U.S. evangelical groups, exporting their hate under the hypocritical guise of “pro-life” and “pro-family” agendas.
The consequences are devastating: queer Ugandans are hunted, HIV-positive individuals fear seeking treatment, and human rights groups are silenced. In Kenya, similar pressures have led to rising violence and legal crackdowns. This is not just a moral failure, it’s a public health catastrophe. It’s part of a Third-World War.
In July 2025, the U.S. Congress passed the Rescissions Act, slashing $7.9 billion in foreign aid. PEPFAR was spared, but only narrowly. The broader rollback has disrupted HIV care in over 70,000 programs across 50 countries. A Lancet-backed study warns that nearly 500,000 children in sub-Saharan Africa could die from AIDS-related causes in the next five years if PEPFAR funding collapses.
“Silence = Death.” — ACT UP
“The opposite of forgetting is justice.” — Geoff Allshorn
“We are not post-AIDS. We are post-attention.” — UNAIDS advocate
World AIDS Day is not just a memorial. It is a challenge. If we forget the past, we risk repeating it; not in San Francisco or Sydney, but in Kampala, Nairobi, Dhaka. The virus is still here. So must we be.
“We feel abandoned—by systems meant to protect us and by a world that doesn’t seem to see our suffering.”
As of Monday 26 May 2025, hundreds of LGBT+ refugees have been abandoned by the government of South Sudan, a nation that criminalises LGBT sexuality and identity. These desperate people need OUR help. They have been waiting for months for refugee documentation and status, and it is time for them to get assistance instead of living in limbo.
(Remembering LGBT+ refugees in Africa, whose voice is often ignored)
We Are Desperately Calling for Support and Protection
We are LGBTQ+ refugees trapped in Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan. Many of us fled violence and persecution in Kakuma Refugee Camp, in Kenya, where we were threatened with arrest, denied legal protection, and exposed to constant danger. In desperation, we crossed into South Sudan—a country still in conflict—hoping UNHCR would offer us the safety and protection we were denied in Kenya.
We were interviewed for resettlement, and at one point, the U.S. had offered us hope through available resettlement slots. But that hope disappeared when the Trump administration suspended the refugee program. Since then, we have been left in Gorom, exposed to daily violence, discrimination, and exclusion.
Recently, the South Sudanese government ordered all LGBTQ+ refugees to leave Gorom for urban areas without legal documents or any support—leaving us more vulnerable than ever. UNHCR South Sudan has told us to follow government directives, but they have no safety measures in place, no resettlement options available, and no clear answers about our future.
We are at risk. We are scared. We feel abandoned.
We are calling on everyone who sees this: please speak out. Contact your government. Ask them to:
1. Pressure UNHCR to do its job and protect LGBTQ+ refugees in South Sudan.
2. Provide emergency resettlement slots for the most vulnerable among us.
3. Ensure no refugee is forced to choose between danger and invisibility.
Share this message. Raise your voice. Help us survive.
This heartfelt plea comes from one of my friends currently in South Sudan. This week, hundreds of LGBT+ refugee were evicted from Gorom Refugee Camp, under threat of police and community violence. They now huddle homeless on the streets of Juba, vulnerable in the capital city of a nation that criminalises LGBT+ sexuality and identity. They seek food and shelter and – more pressingly – transport to a neighbouring country for asylum and refugee processing.
“South Sudan boasts rich cultural diversity, with over 60 indigenous ethnic groups and 80 different languages spoken. The country’s cultural tapestry is woven from a wide range of traditions, customs, and languages, reflecting its complex and varied history…
… Traditional clothing styles in South Sudan vary greatly among the various ethnic groups, showcasing their unique heritage and identity. These attire are not merely a fashion statement but hold deep cultural significance.”
The history of the Azande people of South Sudan (and other nations across Central Africa) include known examples of same-sex relationships between young people. Male homosexuality is acknowledged as part of their indigenous history:
The topic of homosexuality in Azande culture has been regularly addressed, especially in the context of the unmarried warriors, who, during the several years spent living apart from women, had homosexual relations with the boys who were apprentice warriors. These practices, however, were not necessarily maintained as a lifelong pattern of sexual orientation. Generally, after their experiences with so-called “boy-wives,” the warriors entered into heterosexual marriages.
Vongara daughters enjoyed substantial personal freedom and independence from male control, hence their frequent association with adultery, lesbianism, etc”
In May 2024, UNESCO celebrated elect portion of the country’s cultural diversity in an attempt to heal division and violence:
With the help of UNESCO, 40 cultural groups from across the country gathered for two days in the capital Juba to celebrate the first ever cultural week under the theme: “Our culture, our identity, our diversity for social cohesion, unity and peace in South Sudan”.
The Past Creates Its Own Future:
Despite a long history of queer friendly cultures, South Sudan’s political attitudes towards LGBT+ people are deeply rooted in the ignorance of past colonial times and inherited archaic Christian bigotry. The nation’s current problems were largely birthed in Anglo-Egyptian rule between 1899 and 1956, as part of a longer history of oppression and conquest.
South Sudan is one of 67 countries that criminalizes homosexuality, 11 of them with the death penalty. LGBTQ advocates say even where such laws are not applied, they contribute to a climate of harassment, discrimination and violence.
Gorom Refugee Settlement, a small camp outside Juba, was supposed to be our last refuge. But even here, danger follows us. In December 2024, the camp was attacked by members of the host community. LGBTQIA+ refugees were specifically targeted — tents were slashed, people beaten and robbed. When police arrived, they arrested us — including two gay men who were only released after bribes were paid. None of the attackers were punished.
Another report confirms ongoing problems in the camp:
In early April the South Sudanese authorities wanted to kick all the LGBTQ refugees out the camp, and at the time the UNHCR managed to stop this from taking place. Now, however, refugees in the camp report that the new policy is back in place. LGBTQ refugees tells us that the UNHCR has asked the refugees to move to Juba in a few days.
According to these refugees the UNHCR has told them refugees that the agency will provide them with support in Juba. However, the refugees have been told by the South Sudanese not to stay together in one place, and they have not been offered transportation or new homes. Given that they are very poor, this is a recipe for disaster.
One of my LGBT+ friends currently in South Sudan, sent me an urgent appeal for help:
Dear Geoff,
I’m writing to you with a heart weighed down by pain, fear, and exhaustion. As you already know, our journey from Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya was one of survival. We were forced to flee because the Kenyan government, through the camp management, threatened us with imprisonment, stripped us of legal protection, and exposed us to violent attacks. Faced with no choice, we took the unimaginable risk of crossing into South Sudan—a country torn by conflict—in desperate hope of finding safety under UNHCR South Sudan’s protection.
At first, we had hope. We were supported by UNHCR South Sudan and even underwent resettlement interviews. We believed we would be resettled to the United States, which had offered refugee protection for vulnerable groups like ours. But when the Trump administration suspended the refugee program, our chance at safety was crushed. Since then, we’ve been trapped in Gorom Refugee Settlement—unprotected, unheard, and constantly at risk.
We have endured beatings, threats, sexual violence, and unbearable isolation. But the most recent blow came when the South Sudanese government, through the Commissioner for Refugee Affairs, ordered all LGBTQ refugees to leave Gorom and relocate to urban areas, without any legal documentation, support, or protection. We are trans refugees. We are visible and extremely vulnerable. This order is a death sentence.
When we pleaded with UNHCR South Sudan for protection, they told us to follow government directives—even when those directives compromise our lives. They said they can not offer us protection in Gorom and have no resettlement slots available. Yet they are also unable to tell us when any future opportunities might come. How do we survive in the meantime?
We feel abandoned—by systems meant to protect us and by a world that doesn’t seem to see our suffering.
Geoff, we are calling on you not just as an ally but as a voice that can reach places we cannot. Please raise your voice and ask your government to:
1. Urge UNHCR South Sudan to fulfill its protection mandate, especially for LGBTQ refugees who face targeted risks.
2. Provide emergency resettlement slots for the most at-risk LGBTQ refugees in South Sudan.
3. Hold UNHCR accountable for the safety and rights of all refugees, including us.
We are not asking for favors—we are asking for our right to live, to be protected, and to be treated with dignity. Please help make our voices heard before it is too late.
In hope and solidarity,
Another friend tells me:
Greetings dear,I hope you doing well.
I would like to inform you that Government of outh Sudan has decided to evict us from Gorom camp. They gave only ten days to organize and go to stay in the town. We tried to raise the matter to UNHCR to the highest level in Geneva, but they are all silent. Our time in Gorom is about to run out.
As I am experienced with similar incident in Kakuma.
We don’t have to wait for police brutalities and torture.
We don’t have to wait for police lorries to come to take us to prison,
We don’t have to wait for court since being LGBTQIA in South Sudan is one of the toughest countries criminalizing that status.
We are in perilous situation.
People are leaving one by one mostly those who have means to rent in the town.
I am now requesting you to stand with me and support.
I may need to go and get house as others and be away from the incident which would take place on that day.
Kindly consider helping please
Appreciated
Our moral imperative
If you want to consider whether hell actually exists, South Sudan is a good candidate. And the measure of how we respond – as individuals, human rights activists, members of LGBT+ or other minority communities, as constituents demanding humanitarian action from our national governments or international agencies – is a mark of how we might aspire towards (or fail to reach) civilisation.
We need to act immediately to save lives.
What Can You Do?
Appeal to Australia to intervene on the international stage on behalf of these refugees. They need shelter and food, safety, and urgent processing of their documentation as refugees.
Contact Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong and ask the Australian government to use its influence to intervene and assist.
Contact your local LGBT+ community groups, community churches or secular organisations, human rights groups, aid groups, refugee advocacy groups… anyone you can think of… and appeal for their immediate action.
Contact the UNHCR in Australia or internationallyand ask for their intervention. Remember that the UNHCR in South Sudan isIf the Australian office tell you that they are only an information service, ask them for information on how to contact Geneva or South Sudan directly. working under difficulty, so be respectful and polite.
DONATE MONEY to assist these refugee to find transport, shelter, food and safety. You might like to contact the UNHCR in Geneva and offer a donation to go directly to the refugees. Alternatively, you can contact me (send me an email via the email facility below and I will respond) and any donations will be directly and immediately forwarded to refugees.
What sort of world do we want to create? What sort of people does our collective conscience want us to be?
“When you are doing something that is right, you just do it and take care … Someone has to do this.” – Alice Nkom.
Bibliography:
“Grim Perspectives for the Protection of LGBTI Communities in South Sudan”, International Law Blog, 9 December 2021.
Lorna Dias and Melody Njuki, “US hate groups fuel anti-LGBTQ rights movement in Africa”. , Washington Blade, 23 May 2025.
Abraham Junior, “We Exist, We Resist, We Are Not Invisible: Queer, Atheist, and Humanist Refugees in South Sudan”,The Humanist, 28 May 2025.
Matthew LeRiche, Matthew Arnold. South Sudan from revolution to independence. 2012. Ethnic Groups and Flashpoints. p. xv. Columbia University Press. New York. ISBN 978-0-231-70414-4
SEmeka Onwubuemeli, “Early Zande History”, Sudan Notes and Records, Vol. 53, University of Khartoum, 1972, p. 47.
Shaan Roy, “South Sudan’s Cultural Diversity: Exploring Ethnic Groups And Indigenous Languages”, AfroDiscovery, 15 March 2024.
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.
