For Lesbian Visibility Day, we spoke to Virginia, a lesbian from Kenya who lives in one of Micro Rainbow’s safe houses for LGBTQI people fleeing persecution. Same-sex sexual activity is illegal in Kenya, and while the law only criminalises men, queer women are also subject to abuse, violence and harassment for their sexuality.
Read Virginia’s story to learn how she tried to remain safe while staying true to herself, and how, eventually, she was forced to leave Kenya to find freedom
Figuring out who I was
I first started feeling attracted to other girls around the age of 15, but I tried to ignore those feelings because they were confusing and made me worry about what it meant. It wasn’t until I went to college that I began to understand and accept my identity. I met my first partner there. She was kind, loving, and helped me see that there was nothing wrong with me. Her support gave me the confidence to begin accepting myself. But because being in a same sex relationship is illegal and dangerous in my country, our relationship had to remain secret to protect ourselves.
After college, I worked in the tourism sector in my home country, and this career afforded me some freedom. My first partner and I were able to spend time together in tourist hotels where people didn’t question us. But that freedom didn’t last. My family forced me into a heterosexual marriage, which turned out to be abusive sexually, physically, and emotionally. After the birth of my child, I reached a breaking point and left the marriage. Despite threats from my husband and pressure from my parents to return, I stood firm. I chose to raise my child on my own and focused on my career in tourism, which became a source of strength and gave me a sense of freedom.
Increasing threats of violence
Eventually, my partner and I were attacked at a party by people I knew – some were colleagues in tourism sector. It was shocking and painful to be targeted by people close to me. Later, while I was out with my children, two men I recognised confronted me and threatened to “eliminate” me, claiming I might influence my children with what they called a demonic lifestyle. I lived in constant fear not just for myself, but for my children. I was terrified they might try to sexually or physically assault me to try to “cure” me, and I worried my children could be harmed as well. That fear for our safety made it clear I had to leave.
Fleeing to the UK
Since arriving in the UK, I’ve been able to live more openly as a lesbian. I no longer have to constantly worry about how I dress or whom I’m seen with. I feel a sense of freedom here that I didn’t experience back home. For the first time, I can be visible without fear, and that has brought me both comfort and confidence.
The most meaningful support has come from being accepted and welcomed without judgment. Being treated with respect and having my sexuality acknowledged as valid and normal has made a big difference. It helped me feel seen and valued. Additionally, having access to counselling sessions has been incredibly helpful in managing the trauma I’ve experienced. These spaces have allowed me to begin healing and rebuilding my confidence.
Inclusive housing
Living in Micro Rainbow housing has also made me feel much safer, as I’m sharing accommodation with people who understand and relate to my experiences. Being surrounded by others from the LGBTQI community has helped me feel less alone.
Most of the people I’ve met in the LGBTQI community here have been welcoming and accepting, and they don’t seem to judge anyone. However, I’ve noticed that some LGBTQI individuals find lesbian asylum seekers to be quiet, shy, or withdrawn, which can lead to misunderstandings. I don’t think people fully understand the trauma and hardship many of us have gone through. For those of us who lived in fear for most of our lives, being open and confident doesn’t come easily. It takes time to heal, especially when one has never been around many openly queer people and spaces. There is a need for greater awareness, empathy and patience.
Engaging with and getting support from organisations
The support from Micro Rainbow staff has been incredibly helpful; they regularly provide information about where to get support, to join activities, and access other services. I also appreciate the monthly house visits, where any concerns are listened to and addressed.
I was introduced to Poetry of Justice, a group that uses poetry to advocate for justice by a friend. The group focuses on themes like migration and injustice, joining them felt like a powerful way to raise my voice. Writing my poem was both a form of expression and a way to advocate for people seeking sanctuary, especially those from the LGBTQI community. It was a cathartic process that allowed me to process my own experiences while also standing up for others like me.
Virginia Wairimu - Let The Shadow Out
Hiding behind closed doors
Holding the truth to my chest
A shadow moves behind the curtains
It lives in darkness, dripping with fear
It has the colour of distance and difference
It has the shape of questions that never seem to have answers
It smells like shame and secrets
It howls angrily: it is locked in with no key to the outside
Fighting internally
Internal bruises inflicted
Carrying burdens
Heavier than even oxen would bear
There is a monster here, it has let the shadow out
It amplifies my secrets, turning them into enemies
Unable to continue hiding, my shadow becomes a fugitive
But this shadow can transform.
Now I see it flying, free as a bird
Soaring through clouds of vulnerability and unfamiliarity
Searching for a warm nest to curl up in at night.
A final message from Viriginia for Lesbian Visibility Day
Every lesbian who comes to the UK seeking safety has gone through their own unique struggles. While the UK offers more freedom and safety to live openly, it’s important to remember that everyone heals and finds their confidence at their own pace. There’s no pressure to be open or socialise right away it’s alright to take the time one needs. However, it’s great to connect with other LGBTQ people when one feels ready. Building these connections can be incredibly comforting and empowering. We are not alone, and there’s a community here that understands and is willing to support us.
