"The mob can do what it wants to us, it has nothing to fear"

Uganda is one of the most homophobic countries in the world. Fabian Frank Kagimu is trans and the director of an organization in Kampala that supports trans people and advocates for their rights – insofar as that is even possible.

Text: Ralf Kaminski

Uganda has had one of the most homophobic laws in the world since 2023. What is the legal situation for trans people?

The law includes us, too. It's just that a trans identity is harder to hide than homosexuality. In fact, so far it's primarily trans people who have been charged under this law.

Has anyone been sentenced to death?

Not yet, but there have already been several long prison sentences. Because homosexuality is particularly difficult to prove, court proceedings drag on – and in the meantime, the accused sits in prison, often under very difficult and undignified conditions. During the proceedings, they are also repeatedly forced to undress in front of other people.

“We have to hide and conceal our true identity. Trans and other queer people are threatened, blackmailed, exploited, publicly stripped, beaten, and even repeatedly killed. ”

What does this criminalization mean for the daily lives of trans people in Uganda? We have to hide and conceal our true identity. Trans and other queer people are threatened, blackmailed, exploited, publicly stripped, beaten, and even killed. In fact, the mob can do whatever they want to us without fear of consequences. So most of us only go out late at night. It's simply impossible to lead a normal life. It's somewhat easier if you haven't yet undergone gender reassignment surgery. Because those who do can no longer find jobs and often lose their homes, as landlords risk imprisonment if they rent to queer people.

Has it always been this hard for queer people in Uganda, or were there better times in the past? We used to have less to hide, and there were organizations that publicly advocated for us and tried to help. Since the law came into effect, we have all been living in a state of emergency.

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PEDI: Support for trans people in Uganda

Fabian Frank Kagimu, a psychologist now 25 years old, co-founded Prism Empowerment & Development Initiative Ltd. (PEDI) in 2020. This NGO, led by trans women, provides free professional psychological support, operates an emergency shelter, assists with medical issues, and works to empower trans people socioeconomically and promote equality and fundamental human rights in Uganda. Since its inception, PEDI has supported over 200 trans women. Fabian recently spent four months in Europe building a network and expanding her organization's reach. Those wishing to support this work can donate directly to:

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Has it always been this hard for queer people in Uganda, or were there better times in the past? We used to have less to hide, and there were organizations that publicly advocated for us and tried to help. Since the law came into effect, we've all been living in a state of emergency.

Why is Ugandan society so homophobic? Is it based on certain traditions? Religion certainly plays a role. The initial restrictions in 2014 were less radical. Christian and Muslim communities then supported the tightening of the laws and their criminalization.

What would need to happen to improve the situation? Unfortunately, that's very difficult. Because of systematic legal discrimination, it's almost impossible to openly advocate for the interests of the queer community. The fact that many Western countries are now also cutting their development aid only makes everything more difficult. Next year's elections will hardly improve anything either. Therefore, as a community, we are primarily focusing on how we can protect ourselves and help ourselves. It's horrific how many young people are killed, how many lives are wasted. And even if the law were abolished tomorrow, it would take a long time for things to return to normal for us. So many have lost their jobs and their families and are suffering from severe mental health problems.

You co-founded PEDI in 2020. How did that come about? I had just started my psychology studies when a trans woman was brutally murdered in a hate crime. A friend and I were shocked, talked about it, and started organizing meetings that grew larger and larger – partly because people found like-minded individuals and friends in the group. We realized we could do more with it. Eventually, we officially registered as a youth organization that supports young people in their economic emancipation. We were even able to apply for funding. My co-founder, a trans man, has since emigrated to Canada. Many see fleeing abroad as the only solution, but in doing so, we lose many valuable people who are no longer fighting with us to improve the situation. And not everyone is doing well abroad. It's not easy to find work, and there's a lot of xenophobia.

How has your work developed since its founding? Initially, the focus was on trans women in rural areas who had difficulty accessing medical care. We also set up an emergency shelter, which was in high demand. Then there was a police raid. The shelter was closed, and we ended up in jail. After some time, we were released on bail and went to South Africa for a while until things calmed down somewhat. We've since opened a new emergency shelter, and once again, the demand is high.

Who lives in the emergency shelter? It's mostly trans people with health problems who need immediate help. But medical care and medication are extremely expensive, especially because trans people can't get treatment in state-run clinics. That's why we want to establish our own clinic with our own doctors in the medium term.

“ We now know many human rights organizations and lawyers who support us and help us in emergencies. But funding remains a major challenge – we are only nine active members and do everything on a voluntary basis. ”

How do you finance yourselves? Through donations. Every now and then we receive really large sums – this allows us to do things like set up emergency shelters. But there have been times when we didn't know how we would continue. We are grateful for every donation, no matter how small. But we also try to sell art to help finance ourselves.

Don't you have any outside help at all? Yes, we now know many human rights organizations and lawyers who support us and help us in emergencies. But funding remains a major challenge – we only have nine active members and do everything on a volunteer basis. That's why I spent several months in Europe this year trying to expand our network and increase our visibility. It's wonderful to be recognized as an organization and to be invited to speak in other countries.

How easy is it for trans people to get in touch with you? It usually happens through word of mouth. We're also present on various networks, for example in WhatsApp groups where we post flyers. Many use social media, but very cautiously. And sometimes we also have to organize transportation for people who contact us.

What are their most urgent needs?

Safety and humanitarian or medical assistance. Some need to be relocated within the country. We try to connect them with lawyers. Others come directly to our emergency shelter. Or we give them a little money for rent or food.

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Oppressed, discriminated against and threatened with death

Since President Yoweri Museveni came to power in 1986, his government has restricted freedom of expression, assembly, and association. Queer people and all those who advocate for their rights are particularly affected. The criminalization of same-sex acts in Uganda began during the British colonial period, but the Museveni government has drastically intensified repression and discrimination. In May 2023, Uganda passed one of the world's strictest anti-LGBTQIA+ laws: "Severe homosexuality" can be punished by death, and same-sex relationships by life imprisonment.

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Were you able to make a difference on a social or political level? We try, but because we have to be very careful, it's incredibly difficult. Since we still operate as a youth organization, we can occasionally involve authorities at the district level. We also have a few positive contacts with the police. In rare cases, we do openly represent the trans community. And there are other queer organizations in Uganda, like SMUG, that support us and are also trying to make a difference. But they, too, suffer from financial problems and from the fact that many activists give up sooner or later and leave the country.

How dangerous is it for you to openly advocate for trans issues? Very dangerous. We constantly change locations and risk being arrested all the time. In 2023, I spent six months in prison.

What did you experience there?

It was a terrible experience that I still suffer from. I was harassed and tortured. And I lost many relationships because I was officially imprisoned as a trans person.

Are you also harassed as an organization by the authorities or citizens?

Not since we last moved. Before that, it happened repeatedly. Once, they took our computer and all our documents to gather more information. And in December 2024, a member of our emergency shelter was beaten to death by a mob very close by – a terrible blow that deeply shook us. After that, we moved.

How and when did you realize you were trans?

Back in school, where I was always bullied. I felt different and was never in a relationship with a girl. At first, I thought I was completely alone with my feelings until I found a trans friend on Facebook when I was about 18. But it took some time before I could accept myself and started wearing lipstick, dyeing my hair, and dressing nicely. And to this day, I really only do that for myself at home because it's far too risky to appear like that in public and be recognized as a trans person.

Is that why you kept your male name?

Yes, it's easier and less risky.

Do your family and old friends know about you?

I never officially told my parents. But when the authorities put me in prison, they called them and told them why. They were inconsolable. I still have occasional contact with my mother, but no contact at all with my father or siblings. I don't have any old friends anymore either. But I have some new ones from university, mostly girls. They don't have a problem with it.

Have you ever been in a relationship? How difficult is it for queer people in Uganda to meet someone?

I'm single and live alone; anything else is practically impossible. There aren't any meeting places like bars or clubs, maybe just a safe space at an organization. We used to have Grindr, but it became very toxic. Other social media platforms are risky too. People contact you wanting to meet you, only to then beat you up, blackmail you, or report you to the police.

“ Seeing how people’s lives change through our work and support – that’s what motivates me and gives me courage despite everything. ”

How did you experience your four months in Europe?

It was a wonderful experience. The people are very open, completely different from home. I really enjoyed being able to live my trans identity there. It was my first time in Europe; I received a visa thanks to the support of NGOs in Germany – as a representative of a network for queer issues related to displacement. But of course, I also represented my own organization. I spent most of my time in Germany, but also briefly in Switzerland and the Netherlands.

How difficult was it for you to return to Uganda?

It wasn't easy. On the other hand, I'm also very motivated for our work and want to continue supporting my community. My new friendships and networks will contribute greatly to that. But we'll probably only achieve small changes.

What gives you hope?

Seeing how people's lives change through our work and support. Experiencing that my actions are crucial for this improvement. That's what motivates me and gives me courage despite everything.