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This is to support lgbtiqa people in East Africa so that they can get a home and also pay rent to live in a safe place

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South Sudan is the youngest nation in the world a country born from struggle, resilience, and the hope for freedom. But for LGBTIQA people living within its borders, that promise of freedom remains painfully out of reach.

This is a story of invisibility, resistance, and the quiet bravery of queer people who wake up each day in a place where simply existing is treated as a crime.

🏳️‍🌈 1. The Legal Landscape: Criminalization as a Constant Threat

In South Sudan, same-sex relationships are illegal under the Penal Code Act of 2008. The law uses vague colonial-era language like “unnatural offences,” but the consequences are clear: up to 10 years in prison for consensual same-sex intimacy.

This isn’t just a technicality. It is a weapon a way to justify harassment, violence, and the idea that queer people are “outsiders” in their own country.

There is also a specific law criminalizing “men dressing in the fashion of a woman,” which targets trans women, gender-nonconforming people, and anyone who dares to express themselves freely.

Even though actual court prosecutions are rare, the laws work as a shadow over people’s lives. Their purpose is not to punish openly but to silence.

🏳️‍⚧️ 2. Social Stigma: The Weight of Being Unseen

The law is only one piece of the oppression.

The everyday reality for many queer people in South Sudan is shaped by cultural stigma, deep-rooted conservatism, and fear.

• Families may expel or “discipline” queer relatives.

• Communities gossip, threaten, or ostracize.

• Religious leaders often call homosexuality immoral.

• Public officials speak of “zero tolerance” as if queer people are enemies of the nation.

This creates a climate where people cannot speak, cannot seek help, cannot live publicly.

Queer people are often isolated physically, emotionally, and socially because revealing the truth of who they are could cost them their safety, their family, or even their life.

🪬 3. The Hidden Reality in Refugee Camps

For some LGBTIQA people, fleeing their community doesn’t end the danger.

In refugee camps including camps in and around South Sudan queer refugees face:

• harassment from other residents

• violence and threats in shared shelters

• denial of medical care

• pressure from camp authorities to remain silent

Some camps have no system in place to protect vulnerable queer individuals.

There are cases where gay men, lesbians, and trans people have been beaten, chased, or even forced to hide their identities from humanitarian workers to avoid retaliation.

Instead of being places of refuge, many camps become places where danger multiplies.

💔 4. The Emotional Cost of Being Queer in South Sudan

Living in a society where your identity is criminalized takes a deep emotional toll.

People carry:

• the fear of being discovered

• the trauma of previous attacks

• the loneliness of having nobody safe to trust

• the exhaustion of hiding constantly

• the grief of watching others suffer the same pain

Many queer South Sudanese live with a sense of invisibility as if the world has forgotten them, as if their existence is too dangerous to acknowledge publicly.

But invisibility is not the same as absence.

Queer people are there. They have always been there.

And they deserve to be seen.

🔥 5. The Resilience Nobody Talks About

Despite the dangers, LGBTIQA South Sudanese people are not passive victims. They are survivors, creators, and fighters.

They build quiet networks of support.

They form friendships that become lifelines.

They share safe houses, coded language, and hidden meeting spaces.

They listen to each other’s stories in whispered conversations small acts of solidarity that become acts of resistance.

Every time someone chooses to love in a place that forbids it, that is resistance.

Every time someone supports a queer friend in secret, that is resistance.

Every time someone refuses to let fear define their identity, that is resistance.

🥀 6. The Cost of Silence, and Why Speaking Matters

People often ask:

“Why talk about this? Why post about queer South Sudanese lives?”

Because silence kills.

Because lack of visibility allows violence to continue without accountability.

Because queer people in South Sudan deserve global solidarity, awareness, and protection.

Talking about this issue does not endanger them — it shines a light on a reality many people don’t want to acknowledge. The more the world knows, the more pressure grows for safety, inclusion, and change.

🌍 7. The Hope for a Better Future

Change is slow, but it is possible.

Around the world, many countries once used the same colonial anti-LGBT laws that South Sudan still enforces.

And one by one, many of them have reformed, repealed, or rejected those laws.

Progress begins with:

• education

• visibility

• conversations

• international support

• and the bravery of those living the reality every day

Queer South Sudanese people are already imagining a better future one where they don’t have to hide or live in fear.

They deserve a country that sees them as citizens, not criminals.

As humans, not problems.

As valuable, beautiful lives deserving dignity.

🌈🌿 8. A Call to Solidarity

If you are reading this:

• Share this post.

• Talk about queer South Sudanese people.

• Support LGBTQ+ refugee organizations.

• Believe the stories of those who speak out.

• Amplify voices that are silenced at home.

Visibility is not enough, but it is a beginning.

And every time we speak, we make the world a little safer for those who cannot speak openly yet.

❤️🖤💚 9. To Queer People in South Sudan (if any of you ever see this)

You are not alone.

Your life matters.

Your identity is valid.

Your existence is not a crime it is courage.

There is a world outside that sees you, loves you, and wants you to survive.

Stay safe. Stay strong. Stay yourself. Checkout our website below contact the team and volunteer to this wonderful organisation.