ibra

an LGBTq refuge with no human rights

[byamukama100]

Being a gay refugee in South Sudan means waking up every day with uncertainty. I live with fear, discrimination, and the constant struggle to meet even the most basic needs. Finding food, safe shelter, clean water, or even someone willing to offer work can feel impossible because of who I am.

Many people believe that being a refugee means you are already safe, but for some of us, safety is still something we dream about. I carry the pain of leaving behind my home and the hope that one day I will find a place where I can live without fear, without hiding, and without being judged for my identity.

Despite everything, I refuse to give up. I still believe that kindness exists, that there are people who care, and that one day I will have the chance to rebuild my life in a place where I can live with dignity and peace.

If you are reading this, please remember that behind every refugee is a human being with dreams, fears, and a heart that longs for acceptance. Your compassion, your voice, and your support can make a real difference.

Please keep me and others like me in your thoughts. We are not asking for luxury—we are simply asking for the chance to live safely, with hope, dignity, and equal humanity. ❤️🏳️‍🌈

[byamukama100]

I had dreams, hopes, and a vision for my future. I never imagined that one day I would be forced to flee my home and become a refugee. I never imagined that I would end up in a place where survival itself would become a daily struggle.

Being a refugee is painful.

Being gay in a refugee camp is a different kind of pain.

Every day, I carry fears that many people never have to think about. I worry about my safety. I worry about being judged, rejected, or harmed simply because of who I am. I hide parts of myself just to make it through another day.

Sometimes I sit alone and wonder what my life could have been. I wonder what it feels like to live without fear. To hold someone's hand without looking over my shoulder. To wake up without the weight of loneliness crushing my chest.

The hardest part is not the hunger. It is not the heat. It is not even the uncertainty of tomorrow.

The hardest part is feeling invisible.

Feeling like your suffering doesn't matter. Feeling forgotten by a world that keeps moving while your life stands still.

There are nights when I cry myself to sleep and ask God why my life had to be this way. Why I had to lose my home. Why I had to hide who I am. Why every step toward happiness feels so far away.

Yet every morning, I wake up and continue.

Not because I am strong all the time, but because I have no choice.

I continue to hope that one day I will find a place where I am safe. A place where I can live openly, love freely, and finally feel human again.

Until then, I carry my pain silently and pray that someone, somewhere, hears the voices of LGBTQ+ refugees who are suffering in silence.

We are not just statistics.

We are people.

We are hurting.

And we deserve a chance to live without fear. 💔🏳️‍🌈

#RefugeeLife #LGBTQRefugees #HumanRights #Hope #RefugeesWelcome

[byamukama100]

Most people see the word “refugee” and think it only means lack of food, shelter, or money. But for some of us who are gay in the refugee camps of South Sudan, the suffering goes far beyond hunger and poverty. There is a pain we carry silently every single day — fear, loneliness, rejection, and the constant feeling that our lives do not matter.

Many people do not know what it feels like to wake up every morning afraid of being discovered, insulted, beaten, or abandoned simply because of who you are. They do not know what it feels like to hide your tears because showing weakness can make you a target. They do not know the pain of pretending to be someone else just to survive another day.

In the camp, people live close to each other, and rumors spread fast. One small suspicion about your sexuality can destroy your safety. Some of us have been rejected by our own families, chased from our homes, threatened by communities, and left with nowhere to run except these camps. Yet even here, we are still not fully safe.

There are nights when the rain falls hard on the shelters, and you lie awake wondering if life will ever change. Wondering if anyone in the world truly sees your pain. Wondering if you will ever live one day without fear. Some people smile during the day but cry quietly at night because the weight of survival is too heavy.

Many LGBTQ refugees are fighting depression silently. Some have lost hope completely. Some have even lost their lives because the pressure, hatred, and isolation became too much to carry. And the saddest part is that most of the world never hears these stories.

We are not asking for luxury. We are not asking for special treatment. We are only asking to live as human beings — to sleep without fear, to exist without hiding, to be treated with dignity, and to have hope for a future.

Behind every LGBTQ refugee is a story filled with pain, survival, courage, and unanswered prayers. Please do not ignore us. Our lives matter too. 🏳️‍🌈💔

[byamukama100]

Today my heart is heavy remembering my friend back in Uganda.

He was kind, soft-hearted, and full of dreams, but the world around him never allowed him to live freely as himself.

Every day, his family pressured him to marry a woman, to have children, to “be a real man” in their eyes.

But deep inside, he knew he could never lie to himself or to an innocent woman. He did not have feelings for women, and no matter how hard he tried to pretend, the pressure became too much for him to carry.

People judged him.

People threatened him.

People made him feel like his existence was a shame.

He cried in silence.

He suffered in silence.

And one day, the pain became stronger than his hope.

He took his own life.

Sometimes I still ask myself:

What if someone had simply loved him for who he was?

What if his family had chosen compassion instead of pressure?

What if he had been allowed to exist without fear?

Maybe he would still be alive today.

This is the painful reality many LGBTQ people face in Africa. Some of us flee our homes and end up in refugee camps, not because we want to leave our countries, but because we are trying to survive. We run away from hatred, violence, forced marriages, threats, and rejection from the very people who should protect us.

Behind every refugee is a story nobody sees.

Behind every smile is hidden trauma.

Behind every silence is pain too deep for words.

Please, before judging LGBTQ people, remember that we are human beings. We deserve love, safety, family, and the right to live honestly without fear.

Rest in peace, my dear friend.

You deserved a better world than the one that broke you. 🕊️💔

[byamukama100]

Every day in this refugee camp feels like a fight just to survive. Not only because of hunger, sickness, or poverty… but because I am gay in a place where people like me are hated for simply existing.

Sometimes I sit quietly at night and ask myself, “Why was my life meant to be this painful?” I escaped fear hoping to find safety, but even here, I still live in fear every single day. Fear of insults. Fear of violence. Fear of being abandoned. Fear of tomorrow.

People think refugees only need food and shelter, but they do not understand the deeper pain of feeling unwanted everywhere you go. Imagine having no real home, no protection, no one to hold your hand when life becomes too heavy. Imagine crying silently because you are tired of being strong all the time.

There are days when my stomach hurts from hunger, and nights when I cannot sleep because of stress and sadness. I watch other people living normal lives while I struggle just to feel human. Sometimes I smile outside, but inside I am completely broken.

Being a gay refugee in Africa can feel like carrying the whole world’s pain alone. Many of us suffer in silence because we are scared nobody will care, scared nobody will listen, scared our stories will only bring more hate.

But despite everything, I am still here. Still breathing. Still hoping that one day I will find a place where I can live freely without fear, where I can be loved without conditions, and where my life will matter like everyone else’s.

If you are reading this, please remember refugees are human beings too. Gay refugees are human beings too. We do not choose this suffering. We only dream of safety, peace, love, and dignity.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is simply care. ❤️

[byamukama100]

Some nights I lie awake asking myself how a human being can feel so invisible in this world.

Being a gay refugee in 🇸🇸 South Sudan is not just hard… it is lonely in a way words can barely explain.

Every day I carry fear inside me. Fear of rejection. Fear of being hated for simply being who I am. Fear of dreaming too much because life has taught me that dreams can break your heart.

I did not choose to be born this way. I did not choose war, suffering, displacement, or the refugee life. But somehow I am expected to survive all of it while hiding my true self from the world.

Sometimes I smile in conversations, but deep inside I am fighting battles nobody sees. I miss what many people take for granted — safety, love, belonging, and someone who truly says, “You matter to me.”

I know many people see refugees as numbers, but behind every refugee is a human soul carrying pain, memories, and hope. Behind my silence is someone trying very hard not to give up on life.

I still believe there are kind people in this world. People who understand that being gay does not make someone less human. I pray one day I can live freely without fear, without pretending, and without apologizing for existing.

If you are reading this, please remember: a little kindness can save someone who is quietly falling apart. ❤️

[byamukama100]

Tonight I will sleep hungry again in this refugee camp in South Sudan. 💔

Being gay here means living with fear, rejection, and suffering every day. Sometimes I feel forgotten by the world, like my life does not matter to anyone.

I am not asking for luxury — only help to survive. Even a small kindness, food, or support could mean everything to me right now. 🏳️‍🌈

[byamukama100]

Being gay in a refugee camp in South Sudan feels like surviving two wars at the same time. One outside, and one inside your own heart.

Every day in the camp is filled with fear, hunger, loneliness, and uncertainty. Most people around us believe being LGBTQ+ is something evil, so we are forced to hide who we are just to stay safe. Sometimes even speaking too softly, dressing differently, or being seen with the wrong person can lead to insults, threats, beatings, or being completely isolated from the community.

Life here is already hard for everyone, but being gay makes it even more painful.

Some of the challenges we face every single day:

• Constant homophobia and discrimination

• Fear of physical violence or attacks

• Being rejected by other refugees and neighbors

• No safe place to openly express ourselves

• Depression, anxiety, and emotional exhaustion

• Sleeping hungry because support is very limited

• Lack of medicine and healthcare

• No stable shelter during heavy rain and cold nights

• Being insulted or humiliated for simply existing

• Living in silence because speaking out can be dangerous

• Feeling forgotten by the world

There are days when I go without food and survive only on water. There are nights when rain enters the shelter and there is nowhere dry to sleep. Sometimes the emotional pain becomes heavier than the hunger itself.

What hurts the most is feeling invisible — like the world knows we exist but chooses not to see our suffering.

I’m sharing this not for pity, but because this is the reality many LGBTQ+ refugees are living through every day in silence. A kind message, emotional support, or any help truly means more than words can explain.

To everyone who still believes people like us deserve love, safety, and dignity — thank you for not forgetting us.

[byamukama100]

Every day in this refugee camp feels like surviving one more night instead of living a real life. Being gay here is not just loneliness — it is fear, hunger, hiding, insults, and waking up each morning wondering if today will become worse than yesterday.

People think a refugee camp is a place of safety, but for some of us, it became another prison. I live surrounded by people who hate me for simply existing. The insults never fully stop. The threats never fully disappear. Even walking to collect water or food can feel terrifying when you know others are watching you with anger in their eyes.

There are days I sleep hungry because getting food is impossible. Days when my body is weak but my mind is even more exhausted. Sometimes I stay isolated for my own safety, sitting silently and wondering if anyone in this world truly sees us or cares that we are suffering like this.

What hurts most is feeling forgotten. Watching the world move on while people like me are trapped in survival mode every single day. No family protection. No safe home. No country willing to protect us yet. Just fear and uncertainty.

I try to stay strong, but honestly, there are moments when hope feels very far away. Still, I keep holding on because maybe somewhere out there, someone will read this and understand that behind these words is a real human being trying desperately to survive.

If you support LGBTQ+ refugees, please do not stay silent. Your kindness, your voice, your support, or even sharing our stories can mean the difference between despair and hope. Some of us are surviving on almost nothing and fighting battles we were never meant to fight alone.

We are human too. We deserve safety too. We deserve to live without fear too.

[byamukama100]

Some nights I lie awake asking myself… what is the meaning of life when the world already decided you don’t deserve to belong?

I did not choose to be born gay. I did not choose to lose my family, my safety, my home, and my peace because of who I am. Yet every day in this refugee camp in South Sudan feels like punishment for simply existing.

People talk about hope like it’s easy to hold onto. But how do you keep hope alive when you wake up unwanted, insulted, threatened, forgotten, and alone? When even your own tears start feeling invisible?

Sometimes I wonder if my life matters to anyone at all. If there is any reason I survived all this pain. If somewhere beyond this suffering, there is a place where I can finally breathe without fear and be loved without conditions.

I am tired of pretending to be strong all the time. I am tired of carrying pain nobody sees. I just want one moment where life feels kind to me too.

Maybe the meaning of life is simply to keep surviving long enough to find the people who will finally see us as human beings.

I don’t know anymore.https://gofund.me/5708c099b

[byamukama100]

Today is another long day in the refugee camp here in South Sudan.

I woke up before sunrise, not because I wanted to, but because the heat inside the shelter becomes unbearable so early. The little sleep I get is always interrupted by fear, noise, hunger, and thoughts that never leave my mind.

Being a gay refugee here feels like carrying a secret that could destroy you if the wrong person hears it. So every day, I pretend. I hide parts of myself just to survive. I smile when I’m breaking inside. I stay quiet when I want to scream.

Today I spent hours sitting outside, watching people move on with their lives while I wondered if mine will ever truly begin. Sometimes the loneliness is heavier than the hunger. I miss feeling safe. I miss feeling human. I miss being accepted without fear.

Most people think refugees only need food or shelter, but many of us also need love, protection, and someone who simply cares enough to ask, “Are you okay?”

Some days I feel invisible. Other days I feel like the world has already forgotten me.

But I’m still here. Still fighting to survive. Still hoping that somewhere out there, someone will see this post and understand that behind the word “refugee” is a real person with pain, dreams, and a heart that is tired of suffering alone.

If you read this, thank you. Sometimes even kindness from a stranger can keep someone going for one more day. 🖤

[byamukama100]

Some days I sit in silence and ask myself how much pain one heart can carry.

Living as a gay refugee in a refugee camp in feels like surviving in a place where I am not only forgotten, but where I am forced to hide who I am just to stay safe. I did not choose to be born this way, and I did not choose this life of fear, loneliness, and rejection.

Every day I wake up with the weight of being unwanted — not because I have harmed anyone, but simply because of who I am. In a place where people should find protection, I am still fighting to protect myself from hatred, judgment, and isolation.

Sometimes the hardest part is smiling in front of others while inside I am breaking. People see a face, but they do not see the sleepless nights, the silent tears, or the pain of feeling like the world has no place for me.

I am tired of pretending to be strong all the time. I am tired of suffering in silence. I am tired of feeling invisible.

More than anything, I just want to live in a world where being myself does not feel like a crime. I want peace. I want safety. I want to be seen as a human being worthy of love and dignity.

Sometimes the most painful thing is not the suffering itself, but feeling like nobody hears it.

[byamukama100]

Tonight I am writing this with a heavy heart from a refugee camp in South Sudan.

Many people scroll past posts like this every day, but behind these words is a real human being silently fighting a life that has become too hard to carry alone.

I am a gay refugee, and that means I live with two kinds of pain. The pain of losing safety, and the pain of being hated for simply being who I am. Some days I go hungry. Some nights I cannot sleep because fear and sadness sit beside me until morning. I keep asking myself how long one person can survive feeling invisible.

The hardest part is not only the suffering around me. It is feeling like the world can see my pain and still keep moving.

I do not write this for pity. I write this because my heart is tired. I write this because I still believe there may be one kind soul out there who can read this and truly feel what I am going through. Someone who will not just like this post and move on. Someone who will stop. Someone who will care. Someone who will reach out and say, “You do not have to face this alone.”

Sometimes a single message can become hope. Sometimes one caring person can change someone’s life.

If my words touch your heart, please do not ignore them. Please send me a message. Your kindness could mean more than you know.

#GayRefugee #LGBTQRefugee #RefugeeLife #NeedSupport #PleaseDontLookAway

[byamukama100]

Sometimes I sit alone and ask myself, why was I born this way?

Why was I born gay in a place where being myself feels like a crime?

Why was I born a refugee, already carrying pain that I never chose?

Some days, it feels like life gave me two battles at the same time — fighting for safety, and fighting to be accepted for who I am.

I smile in front of people, but deep inside my heart is tired from carrying so much pain in silence.

I do not want pity.

I only wish someone could understand what it feels like to live each day feeling unwanted, forgotten, and alone.

Maybe there is someone out there who understands.

Maybe there is someone who can remind me that my life still matters.