What it’s like to be Ugandan and queer when your country turns against your identity

On Tuesday, 21 March, the same day South Africa celebrated Human Rights Day, Uganda’s Parliament passed a bill that would facilitate gross human rights violations of the country’s queer community. The law aims to punish the promotion of homosexuality and conspiracy to engage in homosexual acts. Although the law was passed in Parliament three weeks ago, it has yet to be signed by President Yoweri Museveni. 

Frank Mugisha, a Ugandan LGBTQ+ activist, said in an interview with DemocracyNow that he believes the president is taking his time to sign the bill for many reasons, one of which is that local advocates and civil society are encouraging him not to sign the legislation hurriedly because of the intense backlash and consequences that will follow. 

Uganda’s anti-LGBTQ+ legislation comes at a time when there seems to be a global uptick in homophobic and transphobic legislation, such as in the US where at least 417 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced this year alone. 

In Uganda, hostility towards queerness existed well before the new law was passed, which is not the first to try to codify homophobia in the country. 

Natukunda* (a pseudonym, as she chooses to be anonymous) identifies as pansexual and despite being part of the Ugandan diaspora in South Africa, still spends much time in Uganda, especially since her parents moved back to Kampala in 2019. 

“I love Uganda, obviously, because my parents come from there, and it’s a beautiful country and the people are lovely. So for them to pass something like [the Anti-Homosexuality Act] is very disappointing because now I’m very stuck between wanting to identify as Ugandan … but then it’s also opposed to who I am, specifically my sexuality.  

“Besides my siblings, no one [in Uganda] knew that I was queer. Not even my parents — my parents still don’t know. So I was very much just known as straight when I was home. In fact, sexuality was never really spoken about, because African families don’t really speak about that.” 

In South Africa, Natukunda felt able to express her sexuality. 

“[In Uganda] I would see people — men or women — that I would be attracted to but I’d never really act upon it. I just keep to myself. It was only something I would express here in South Africa,” she said. 

She said that, in Uganda, “Say now there was someone I’m interested in, the only time you could express affection with them is, like, if you were at a bar or nightclub that was very, like, on the down-low and it was dark and you’re around people that are comfortable with LGBT+ people around them. Otherwise, you keep all of that at home, in your private space. You don’t express it out there.” 

Natukunda recalls seeing two men walking down a street in a Ugandan city, holding hands and smiling. Everyone around them stopped what they were doing and stared at them.   

She said that those who are part of the diaspora will face a very specific set of challenges when going back home because they openly display their sexuality when out of the country, whereas queer people in Uganda have always kept it hidden. The question is: “So now if I go home, will it really be safe?”  

However, she said it is important not to sensationalise what the queer community in Uganda is experiencing at the moment as Museveni still has yet to sign the bill. 

Transgender woman, going through transition, poses for a portrait at a safe house in Kampala, Uganda, that supports LGBTQI+ residents. (Photo: Luke Dray / Getty Images)

‘There have always been queer Africans’ - Breaking the cultural connection

Civilians and various organisations protest against Uganda banning LGBTQ rights at the United Nations Information Centre on 31 March 2023 in Pretoria, South Africa. (Photo: Gallo Images / Papi Morake)

This story first appeared in our weekly Daily Maverick 168 newspaper, which is available countrywide for R25.