We Exist, We Resist, We Are Not Invisible: Queer, Atheist, and Humanist Refugees in South Sudan
“When home becomes a battlefield, survival itself becomes an act of defiance.”
Introduction: Living on the Edge of Existence
My name is Abraham Junior. I am a queer leader, a humanist, and an atheist (ex-Muslim) refugee living in the Gorom Refugee Settlement Camp in South Sudan. I belong to a fragile and persecuted community of LGBTQIA+, atheist, and humanist refugees and asylum seekers — many from Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and other Great Lakes countries — forced to flee because of who we are and what we believe.
This is not just my story. It is our collective voice — that of queer refugees, atheist friends, transgender siblings, lesbian sisters, and many HIV-positive individuals who continue to fight for survival. Our stories are rooted in East Africa, where state violence, religious persecution, and societal hate combine to crush our identities. Yet, we are still here.
The Ugandan Nightmare: Identity as a Crime
In Uganda, being LGBTQIA+ is criminalized. Non-religious people are often branded as “evil” or “possessed.” For those of us who are both queer and non-believers, life becomes nearly impossible.
Many in our community have survived horrors:
- Corrective rape of lesbian women, intended to “cure” them.
- Public beatings, stonings, and burnings of transgender individuals.
- Forced religious exorcisms targeting bisexual and atheist individuals.
- Police blackmail and family betrayal leading to arrests or violent attacks.
- Forced annual “medical” examinations to assess one’s gender or sexuality.
We did not want to leave our homes. But we had no choice. Survival became our only goal.
Kenya: The Mirage of Safety
We thought crossing into Kenya and registering in places like Kakuma Refugee Camp would bring safety. That dream quickly turned to ash:
- Fires were deliberately set on LGBTQIA+ shelters.
- Sexual assaults and gang attacks occurred regularly.
- Lesbian sisters were forced into sex work to survive, leading to unwanted pregnancies, fatherless children, and transmission of HIV.
- Hostile authorities blamed us for the violence we endured.
- Isolation, hunger, unemployment, and targeted arrests became the norm.
Despite our peaceful protests and appeals to UN agencies, many were punished instead of protected. Eventually, fleeing again became the only option.
In broad daylight, Kenya’s commissioner publicly declared that there was no room for LGBTQIA+ community members in the country. We were told to leave and seek safety elsewhere.
South Sudan: Exile Inside Exile
South Sudan is deeply conservative and religious. Same-sex relationships are taboo. Gender diversity is rejected. Atheism is feared.
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.
My transgender sister, Ciara, bears physical scars from repeated attacks. She has been stoned while collecting water, mocked in public, and denied healthcare. Her story is one of thousands.
Amid an ongoing civil war, gunfire between government and rebel forces often surrounds our camp, traumatizing us daily.
Women and Children: Vulnerability and Survival
Lesbian sisters face impossible choices. Many have turned to sex work for survival — not out of desire, but desperation. Rejected by families, denied jobs, and cut off from education, they live with constant threats of violence and exploitation.
One sister confided, “I sell my body so I can eat. I hate it. But what else can I do?”
Children in our care face systemic rejection. Schools deny admission, teachers bully them, and classmates ridicule them. Without access to education, these children are robbed of a future before it begins.
Living with HIV: Fighting Stigma and Neglect
Many in our community live with HIV. Clinics are far away, understaffed, and often hostile to queer and trans individuals. Medication frequently runs out. Many avoid seeking help out of fear of exposure and discrimination.
Living with HIV is already difficult. Living with HIV as a queer refugee in South Sudan is a daily battle against both disease and stigma.
The Trauma of Conversion Therapy
Many of us carry invisible scars from conversion therapy: forced religious rituals, fasting, prayer sessions, verbal and physical abuse — all meant to “cure” us.
Even in camp, some hide their identity to avoid more religious “interventions.” UNHCR staff have advised us to “keep a low profile.”
No Safe Spaces, No Protection, No Voice
There is no LGBTQIA+ community center. No legal aid. No safe health care. When we are attacked, we have nowhere to go. Police do not protect us — they extort and arrest us on false charges.
We are not seen as victims. We are seen as easy targets.
UNHCR South Sudan: A Vital Yet Delayed Lifeline
UNHCR acknowledges our extreme vulnerability. Some of us have been profiled and told we qualify for resettlement. We call this our pathway to safety.
But that process is on hold. We wait, month after month, hoping for a chance to live free.
We deeply appreciate the efforts of some individual UNHCR staff, but the system moves too slowly for people in daily danger.
A Collective of Resilience: Voices from All of Us
We are Ugandans, Rwandans, Burundians, Congolese, and Sudanese. We are gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, atheist, and humanist. We are HIV-positive fighters, sex workers, and children of persecution.
Despite everything, we survive. We share food. We gather in secret. We support one another. Our survival is resistance.
Urgent Crisis: Forced Eviction from Gorom
On May 14, 2025, a meeting was held in Gorom Camp with the Government of South Sudan’s CRA commissioner and UNHCR’s Assistant Commissioner, Madam Gloria. LGBTQIA+ community members were told to vacate the camp within 10 days.
We were not allowed to ask questions. The order was clear: disperse throughout Juba or face court charges.
This is an urgent threat to our lives. We are frightened, unsupported, and at risk of violence, abuse, and homelessness. We ask for immediate international intervention.
A Call to Action: Stand With Us
To everyone reading this — in Africa or abroad — we ask:
- Advocate for LGBTQIA+ protections in African refugee contexts.
- Push governments and agencies to accelerate resettlement of high-risk refugees.
- Donate to grassroots refugee-led organizations.
- Share our stories in media, parliaments, queer communities, and schools.
- Confront myths and hate with truth and solidarity.
We are not nameless. We are not invisible. We are human.
We exist. We resist. We endure. We want to love, contribute, heal, and thrive. With your support, we will.
