My struggles as a butch lesbian in a refugee camp, need a hand to survive.
I’m finally sitting down to write this after a journey I never thought I’d have to take. My partner, our two kids, and I just arrived at Gorom camp in South Sudan. It’s been a long road from Uganda, through Kenya, and now here.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of being a butch woman in these spaces. Back home, we were already living on the edges, but being a refugee adds a whole new layer. In the camps, you are always "visible." People look at the way I dress or how I carry myself, and I can feel the questions before they’re even asked. You want to blend in for the sake of the kids, but you also can't hide who you are when your family depends on your strength.
The transition to Gorom has been a lot. Kenya was supposed to be a stopping point, but safety is a moving target when you’re queer. Now, in South Sudan, we’re trying to build something that feels like a "home" out of whatever we have.
I spent most of this morning just making sure our tent felt secure. My partner is incredible she keeps the kids calm and the spirit of our family alive, but I feel that pressure to be the shield. You worry about the kids hearing things or seeing the way people react to their two moms. You just want them to have a childhood that isn't defined by why we had to run.
It’s exhausting to always be on guard, watching your back while trying to find enough water or figure out the next step for our asylum case. But then I look at my partner and the kids, and I remember why we did this. We left to stay together.
To anyone else out there navigating the camp system as a butch lesbian or a queer family: I see the way you square your shoulders when things get tight. I see you protecting your joy in a place that feels like it wasn't built for us. We’re still here, and we’re still a family. That’s the biggest win we have right now.
If there is anyone that can support us with anything please donate on our fundraiser below⬇️
https://4fund.com/db35pd