‘You evil woman,’ a man on the street yelled out at me.
It was 2019 and I had just left the supermarket with my two daughters, who were 17 and five at the time. However, this man and his friend blocked our way.
‘Look at your beautiful daughters,’ one of them added. ‘You want to teach them your demonic ways, but we won’t let that happen. You deserve to be eliminated from this world.’
These men had previously seen me and my partner at the time being affectionate with each other, so I knew this was coming from a homophobic place.
I immediately grabbed my two daughters’ hands and ran the whole way back home, which was about half an hour.
While we were running, my young daughter started questioning why they were attacking us. I told her they were bad people and that we needed to hurry back and lock ourselves in the house.
Once we got back home, I tried to calm my girls down but I couldn’t help how traumatised I felt.
Devastatingly, that would be our last night altogether, after I was forced to flee my home country of Kenya – and leave them behind.
I was born into a Catholic family and introduced to church at a very young age. We rarely missed Sunday service and other holy days of obligation.
From an early age, I knew being a lesbian would not be accepted in my family – but that’s what I was. To keep myself safe, I had to hide my sexuality.
This is because the queer community experienced a lot of homophobia, including physical beatings by gangs that could result in death, curative rape – a hate crime in which somebody is raped to try to change their sexuality – pastors performing exorcisms and police arrests or money extortion. On top of that, we’re discriminated against by service providers, health professionals, landlords and employers.
In my 20s, I gave in to societal pressure and entered into a heterosexual marriage, which was awful for me from the very beginning. I had my first child a year or so later and that was a small ray of sunshine in a life that I felt intensely sad about.
The relationship was terrifying. So I left my marriage and became a single parent.
As a single parent, I focused on raising my daughter and my work that I loved and enjoyed. I had studied in the tourism sector so I worked a job in that. Later, I even registered my own tour company and operated it in Kenya for over a decade.
In the mid-2010s, I adopted my second daughter because I wanted my first to have a sibling, but I didn’t want to get pregnant again. I felt I had a complete family.
A year later, I got into a secret relationship with a woman I met through work, but we had to try to be discreet for fear of our own safety. It was lovely to be in a relationship with someone who loved me, but it was scary to be hiding myself all the time.
Unfortunately, I occasionally heard some unpleasant comments about my sex life from colleagues and friends. I hadn’t been in a relationship with a man for a while so they suspected I was a lesbian.
Our relationship became public when we attended a colleague’s party and we forgot to be discreet – we simply lost ourselves on the dancefloor, but that was enough for people to get properly suspicious of us.
This triggered an attack by the people at the party, who shouted homophobic slurs and physically attacked us. They pushed us out and continued beating us and we managed to escape in different directions.
After the party attack, I started receiving threats. That’s when I was threatened with death in front of my daughters and was accused of teaching them ‘satanic evil behaviours’, so I knew I had to flee. Staying was endangering their lives – and mine.
This was a very difficult and painful decision to leave my children, my career and my parents. Due to my job, I had a passport and documents for me but not for my daughters, so I made the difficult decision to leave them with my parents so that I could escape.
I truly never believed I would be away from them for so long. I travelled to London in May 2019 and initially stayed with a friend I knew here.
Though I was relieved to be away from my attackers, I was traumatised, scared, and unsure of my future. Of course, I missed my daughters immeasurably too.
At first, I didn’t know if I could be safe as a lesbian till I attended Pride in London that same year and interacted with other LGBTQ+ people. I just recall it being so colourful and being so surprising to see so many people and same-sex couples holding hands.
It was only after attending counselling meetings in the years since that I have been able to stop being ashamed of my sexuality and felt able to share my story.
I applied for asylum in 2019 but the interview was traumatising because they asked very intimate questions, including what homophobic abuse I suffered. I also felt badly prepared because I needed a translator and I thought that vital information was lost in translation.
To make matters worse, it was difficult to talk about issues with a total stranger because I had lived my whole life feeling ashamed of my sexuality.
Unfortunately, within a few months, my application failed. I was notified via a letter – essentially stating that they didn’t believe I was a lesbian. This was very painful.
They also suggested via the refusal letter that I could go back, live in a different town and continue living in hiding. I was depressed and disappointed.
But I refuse to hide who I am any longer because I believe everyone should be allowed to live openly without fear.
Asylum Matters
For more information about the charity, Asylum Matters, visit their website here.
Though safe, life in the UK is challenging and – at times – dehumanising. I have to rely on charity – such as clothing and food banks – and friends that I’ve met through church.
However, I have met many wonderful, supportive people in the UK, which gives me hope. Many have shown their solidarity with my campaign and petition #WeAreVirginia, which is an appeal on my asylum case for a chance to rebuild my life in this safe country.
To try to give back to the community, I volunteer in a number of charities, like Stories of Hope and Home, Journeys LGBT asylum group, and Hope Projects.
Once this is all hopefully over and I can stay in the UK, I look forward to being able to rebuild my life and bring my children to live with me. It’s terrible to be apart and I miss them so much.
I want to be reunited with them and I also hope to find love again.
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