Rasheedat is a bisexual woman from Nigeria. In Nigeria, same-sex sexual activity is illegal, and LGBTQI people can be punished with a maximum 14 year prison sentence. Same-sex sexual activity is also criminalised under sharia law at the state level, under which the maximum sentence is death by stoning.
Rasheedat faced harassment and persecution as a bisexual woman in her home country and was forced to flee to the UK to try and find safety.
This is Rasheedat’s story:
Discovering my sexuality
Growing up in Nigeria, discovering my sexuality felt both confusing and isolating. I attended an all girls secondary school in my maternal grandmother’s hometown and it was here that I became aware that I felt attracted to both boys and girls. I didn’t have the words to describe it then.
I was around 14/15 years old when I realised these feelings weren’t just a phase. However, in a society where being queer is seen as sinful and even criminal, I felt trapped. You learn very quickly to keep those feelings hidden because the consequences can be severe violence, rejection, or imprisonment.
When my parents found I had a female partner they were so disappointed. I was taken into custody by the Nigerian Army and was subjected to severe punishment for three days. I was left with a scar on my arm that’s a permanent reminder of what I went through.
My parents then forced me to marry a man.
Hiding in Nigeria
In Nigeria, hiding wasn’t a choice – it was survival. I avoided conversations about relationships, and I always had to present myself in a way that wouldn’t raise suspicion. Even during the asylum process, I felt pressure to “prove” something so deeply personal to strangers, which was stressful and exhausting. There’s an assumption that bisexual people are “confused” or not genuine, so I constantly feared not being believed.
Getting to the UK and applying for asylum
Applying for asylum was a mixed experience. Some people were understanding, but I also faced doubts. There’s a stereotype that bisexuality is not as “real” or as dangerous as being gay or lesbian, which can make the asylum process harder. I had to repeatedly explain that I faced real risks in Nigeria regardless of who I was dating at the time, because just identifying as bisexual is enough to put your life in danger there. My identity wasn’t believed which made the Home Office refuse my asylum claim.
Now I am in the UK, I do feel safer and freer, but there are still barriers. Safety doesn’t automatically erase the years of fear and shame I grew up with. Sometimes I still hesitate before sharing my identity because I’m used to hiding. But overall, being in a place where I’m not criminalised for who I am has been life-changing. I can imagine a future where I don’t have to live in fear.
Help from Micro Rainbow
Micro Rainbow has been a lifeline for me. From providing safe housing to creating a community where I feel accepted, their support has helped me rebuild my confidence and trust. They gave me a space to heal and meet people who share similar experiences. That sense of belonging is something I never had before.
My message for Bisexual Awareness Week
My message is this: being bisexual is valid, even when others try to erase or doubt you. For those of us who come from places where our identity is criminalised, seeking safety isn’t about choice – it’s about survival. If you’re bisexual and feeling invisible or misunderstood, know that your identity matters, and you deserve safety, love, and freedom. For the world, I want to say: believe us, support us, and understand that our struggles are real.
