Chronicling the Struggles of LGBT People Around the World
Chronicling the Struggles of LGBT People Around the World
5 minute read
Joseph Kawesi, 31
Uganda, March 2015
Joseph Kawesi, a transgender woman, sits at home in the Ugandan capital of Kampala with her mother Mai, 65.
Kawesi still has nightmares about the night in December 2012 when she says police officers dragged her out of her home after a tip-off that she might be gay. She says the officers beat her, and then raped her with a club. Kawesi is now an activist working to support LGBT people affected by HIV/AIDS in Uganda.
Uganda's president signed an Anti-Homosexuality Act into law in Feb. 2014, that broadened the criminalization of same-sex relationships, adding to colonial-era laws that already prohibited sodomy. The law was overturned on a technicality in August, but Parliament could pass a new anti-homosexuality bill this year.Robin Hammond
By many measures, the world is a safer and more welcoming place for gay people than it was ten years ago.
A growing number of national and regional governments have passed laws legalizing gay marriage and unions between people of the same sex. Other countries have tightened legislation that prohibits anti-gay discrimination and hate speech targeted at people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT). “There’s been enormous progress globally and locally,” wrote Kenneth Roth, executive director of Human Rights Watch earlier this year. “It’s important to note that the fight for LGBT rights is not a Western phenomenon; many of the governments at the forefront of the defence of LGBT rights are from the developing world.”
But while LGBT rights may be generally improving around the world, many more people live in countries where homosexual acts or identifying as gay can lead to state-ordered physical punishment.
Human rights groups say that in some of these countries — including Russia, Nigeria and Uganda — governments have targeted LGBT people as a way to redirect peoples’ anger from the governments to a vulnerable minority. All three countries have introduced anti-gay legislation in the past three years and in all three countries human rights groups have reported simultaneous increases in attacks on LGBT people.
Photographer Robin Hammond, who is from New Zealand, first started documenting these issues when he was on assignment in Lagos, Nigeria, and read about five people who had been arrested for being gay. He then decided to expand his work to seven countries, photographing LGBT people of 15 different nationalities.
Hammond says he wants to improve peoples’ lives rather than simply chronicling their suffering and is today launching a non-governmental organization named Witness Change, which aims to kickstart social media campaigns and put on traveling exhibitions to help raise funds for grassroots organizations that are dealing with the highlighted human rights issues, including LGBT rights.
He described the process he has developed for taking his portraits — and for asking his subjects to write down their personal stories:
While I predominantly use photography to talk about the issues that are important to me, the medium has shortcomings — it can connect, but rarely does it explain. So I wanted the survivors of discrimination to talk for themselves about what they’ve been through. With each of the 65 subjects I asked that they write down their story of discrimination and survival. They chose what to say and how to say it. This resulted in extremely powerful testimonies, some five pages long, some a single sentence.
For many it was the first time they’ve told their story. The point is to have their voices heard. Many have lived lives of silence.
After they wrote their testimony I would ask more questions.
We would then take a photograph. The photographs are all posed portraits. The way the photograph is posed is a collaboration between myself and the subject. I would ask them how we could illustrate their story. The results were sometimes interesting. Some told me to come back another day and I would return to find them in full drag. Others said. “They tied me like this — show it”. Kasha, the Ugandan lesbian activist, wanted to be shown as a strong leader. I asked her if she had a symbol of strength — she rose her fist. Joseph, a transgender woman from Uganda, spoke about his mum and how grateful he is that she accepts him for who he is, so I photographed them together.
Of course some did not really know how to stand or pose. I would offer them ideas on what I thought might look interesting. Some took on those ideas, some were rejected.
Many of the photographs were unexpected. Many are not posed as I would have visualized before meeting the subjects. The poses were informed by their stories and very much by how they wished to be photographed. The point is that it was really important the subjects had as much control as possible. It is their story, and their image.
I photographed these portraits on a large format 5×4 (5-inch by 4-inch) field camera using Polaroid-type film. The reason is aesthetic but also so I could show the subject the photograph. I always gave them the veto over the image. Some subjects were obviously concerned about their safety, so it was important they felt safe if they had requested to have their identity hidden.
I would do, on average, one portrait per day. A lot of time was spent with each subject getting to know them, discussing their lives, and talking about the project.
The photographs and testimonies personalize and make real an issue often spoken about in abstract ways, in discussions about laws and sanctions and politicians.
Some people may find some of the images uncomfortable. I know many people will be saddened by the testimonies. This is the reality of life for many LGBTQI people in our world.
Robin Hammond is a freelance photojournalist based in Paris, France.
Alice Gabriner, who edited this photo essay, is TIME’s International Photo Editor.
Joseph Kawesi, 31
Uganda, March 2015
Joseph Kawesi, a transgender woman, sits at home in the Ugandan capital of Kampala with her mother Mai, 65.
Kawesi still has nightmares about the night in December 2012 when she says police officers dragged her out of her home after a tip-off that she might be gay. She says the officers beat her, and then raped her with a club. Kawesi is now an activist working to support LGBT people affected by HIV/AIDS in Uganda.
Uganda's president signed an Anti-Homosexuality Act into law in Feb. 2014, that broadened the criminalization of same-sex relationships, adding to colonial-era laws that already prohibited sodomy. The law was overturned on a technicality in August, but Parliament could pass a new anti-homosexuality bill this year.Robin HammondKasha Jacqueline Nabagesera, 34Uganda, March 2015
“We have a very long way to go in this struggle but I am glad that we are not just sitting back," says Kasha Jacqueline Nabagesera, 34, one of the early pioneers of the gay-rights struggle in Uganda.
In 2003, she founded Freedom and Roam Uganda, a gay-rights advocacy group; last December she published and distributed Bombastic, a free magazine focused on the personal stories of Uganda's gay men and women. Robin HammondHakim Semeebwr, 26Uganda, March 2015
Hakim Semeebwr, a transgender woman and sex worker in Kampala, Uganda, is also a drag queen and goes by the name Bad Black. She says: "Ugandans, they had something in their heads that gays are sick, cursed, abnormal and not African. Now that we are out, they can't deny we are Ugandan."Robin HammondIshmel (left) and Gabriel (right) (not their real names)
Nigeria, April 2014In December 2013 they say a vigilante group, suspecting them of being gay, took them from their homes in the northern state of Bauchi. Under Bauchi's Islamic Sharia law, the penalty for gay sex is death by stoning. Ishmel and Gabriel say they were deprived of food and light and beaten in prison. They were eventually acquitted of the crime because there were no witnesses (Shari'a requires four), but both say they were cast out of their homes for bringing shame on their families. Since January 2014 when then-President Goodluck Jonathan signed a law criminalizing same-sex relationships, arrests of gay people in Nigeria have multiplied. Robin HammondBuje (not his real name)
Nigeria, April 2014
Buje spent more than 40 days in prison after being taken from his home by a vigilante group aligned to the Bauchi City Shar'ia Courts in December 2013.
After guards beat him in prison with electric cables, Buje confessed to committing homosexual acts. They lashed him 15 times with a horsewhip as punishment. He says his family told him: “God should take your life away so that everyone will have peace because you have caused such shame to our family.” Since Nigeria’s president signed a harsh law criminalizing same-sex relationships in Jan. 2014, arrests of gay people have multiplied and advocates have been forced to go underground or seek asylum overseas.Robin HammondTiwonge Chimbalanga
Malawi, Nov. 2014
Transgender woman Tiwonge Chimbalanga married Steven Monjeza in 2009 but on Dec. 28 of that year they were arrested and charged with various offences relating to unnatural indecent practices between men. The magistrate sentenced them to 14 years imprisonment, saying it was to protect Malawian society from being “tempted to emulate this horrendous example.”
Because Malawi is a signatory to numerous human rights treaties, there was international outcry over the case. Amnesty International declared them both 'prisoners of conscience.' After five months in prison, on May 29 2010, then President Bingu wa Mutharika pardoned Chimbalanga and Monjeza, releasing them on the condition that they had no further contact with one another. Fearing for her safety, Chimbalanga fled to South Africa where she lives now. She is still struggling to find a job.
In July 2014, the Justice Minister announced that Malawi would review its anti-gay laws and no longer arrest people for homosexual activity, but it remains illegal. On April 17 2015, a new law came into force banning all same-sex marriages and unions.Robin HammondFlavirina Naze
South Africa, Nov. 2014
33-year-old Flavirina Naze, a transgender woman from Burundi, says she left her home country because she had suffered physical attacks because of her sexuality. In Burundi, the penalty for same-sex sexual activity is imprisonment for up to two years.
During a transgender conference in South Africa in 2009, Naze says an LGBT activist warned her that it might be dangerous to return to Burundi because persecution of the LGBT community was increasing as elections approached.
Fearing for her life, she decided to stay in South Africa, where she was granted asylum. When her asylum permit expired, she could not afford to renew it and is now in South Africa illegally, where she cannot get a job. She has become a sex worker in order to survive.Robin HammondDolores (left) and Naomi (right)
Yaoundé, Cameroon, Dec. 2014
Transgender women Dolores and Naomi say they were stopped at a police checkpoint after spending the evening at a club and taken to the station because they could not produce identification. They say police beat them severely every night for a week, until they were sent to provisional detention, where they remained for three months. Eventually they were found guilty of homosexuality and sentenced to five years in prison.
Human rights campaigner and lawyer Alice N’kom appealed the conviction and prosecutors dropped the case due to a lack of evidence. Dolores and Naomi were acquitted in January 2013 after 18 months in prison. “I was obliged to undertake any kind of activity to survive,” says Dolores. “Prison is the worst place I have ever been.”Robin HammondAmanda (not her real name)
South Africa, Nov. 2014
Amanda says she was traveling with a friend in 2007 when a man asked her if she dated girls and if she was a lesbian. When Amanda said yes, she says the man pulled out a gun, put it to her head and said: “I’m going to show you are a girl.” He told her to strip off her clothes and raped her. He ran away but Amanda went to the police station and the police managed to arrest him.
He was eventually found guilty and sentenced to 10 years behind bars. But Amanda, 28, still feels afraid. “I hope I will be okay one day because he got what he deserves."
Despite South Africa becoming the first country in the world to prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation in 1993, homophobic sentiment and violence runs high. Robin HammondBoniwe Tyatyeka
Cape Town, South Africa, Nov. 2014
Boniwe Tyatyeka holds a framed photograph of her daughter Nontsikelelo (also called Ntsikie) who disappeared in September 2010. One year later, her decomposed body was found in a neighbor’s dustbin; she had been raped, beaten and strangled to death. According to Tyatyeka, the neighbor said he had done it to change her because she was a lesbian.
South Africa was the first country on the continent to legalize same-sex marriage and its constitution guarantees LGBT rights, but social stigma around homosexuality remains. “Nitsikie was a child with dreams,” Boniwe says. “Even now when I’m on the go, I am always looking out like I will hopefully see Ntsikie.”Robin HammondNisha Ayub
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Jan. 2015
Nisha Ayub, 35, is a transgender woman who was arrested and sentenced to three months in prison for cross-dressing, a practice illegal under Malaysia's Islamic law. She was imprisoned in the male section, where she says she was verbally and physically abused.
Despite having breast implants earlier that year, she says she was made to walk topless through the prison and the guards shaved off her long hair. "One of the worst things about being in prison is that you don't feel like you own your body anymore," she says.
Once released, Ayub discovered she had lost her job in a hotel so she became a hostess in a bar, where she had to perform sex acts for money. Eventually, she heard of an NGO in Kuala Lumpur helping transgender people and now she advocates for other transgender women in Malaysia.Robin HammondAbinaya Jayaraman
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Jan. 2015.
Abinaya Jayaraman always considered herself a boy until her late teens, when she started to learn about the transgender community. She was very scared to tell her strict family about her true identity but in June 2008, she finally told her mother but was rejected, she says.
Desperately lonely, Jayaraman attempted suicide in April 2009 with a cocktail of sleeping pills and painkillers. She says her mother didn’t visit her once during her three-month hospital stay. The family later disowned her and threw her out of the house. Uncomfortable with acting like a man at work, she eventually quit her job in corporate banking and turned to sex work to survive.
“I have no choice. I’m lonely, homeless and live in fear because I decided to be who I am. If I had the chance I would leave Malaysia and go somewhere where I can live and earn with dignity," she says. In Section 377 of Malaysia’s Penal Code, homosexual acts between men and women are criminalized and can amount to whipping and a 20-year prison sentence.Robin HammondO (right) and D (left)
St Petersburg, Russia, Nov. 2014
Lesbian couple O (27) and D (23) were holding hands and sharing a kiss on their way home after a jazz concert late at night on Oct. 19 when they say they were attacked. A stranger accused them of being lesbians, punching and kicking them repeatedly.
Although Russia decriminalized same-sex relationships between consenting adults in private in 1993, there are currently no laws prohibiting discrimination towards LGBT people. In June 2013 Russia introduced federal law criminalizing the distribution of LGBT “propaganda” among minors, which prompted international uproar.
“Now, in Russia, holding hands is dangerous for us,” says O. “But if the goal of these attackers was to separate us, they failed. They only made our relationship stronger.”Robin HammondMitch Yusmar
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Jan. 2015
47-year-old transgender man Mitch Yusmar is photographed at home in Malaysia with his partner of 17 years, Lalita Abdullah, and their adopted children Izzy and Daniya.
The Malaysian government retains a penal code criminalizing sodomy that dates back to the colonial era. It can include a 20-year-prison sentence and even corporal punishment. Yusmar’s relationship with his partner is not legally recognized and they live in fear that their family could be torn apart if something happened to Abdullah, who is the only legally recognized parent.
“The core of our being is our family,” he says. “It can become very frustrating that we need to work doubly hard to ensure that our basic rights are looked after. But we have hope that some day things will be better.”Robin HammondSally
Beirut, Lebanon, Feb. 2015.
Sally, a transgender woman, arrived in Lebanon last summer fleeing her home in Syria when one of her family members joined the Islamic State of Iraq and Greater Syria (ISIS). She says ISIS kidnapped, interrogated and likely killed her last partner.
“They are worse than the Syrian investigation services. ISIS consider gays as a contagious disease, so that’s why they kill them,” she says. Sally says many of her gay friends have been captured and stoned to death, shot or pushed from the roof of buildings, even when there is no proof (which is required under Islamic law).
Sally now has a short-term job in Beirut teaching literacy to survive and is waiting for resettlement. “I can never go back to Syria. If I went back, they would kill me," she says.Robin HammondKhalid Beirut Lebanon, Feb. 2015.
Khalid, 36, left his home in the Iraqi city of Baghdad after a great deal of persecution. He had been in a relationship for a year with another man when one day in 2013, his boyfriend’s older brother found them in bed together and informed both families.
In Iraq, same-sex relationships are legal but are considered taboo by the majority of the population and honor killings are common. “I was really afraid for my life,” says Khalid. He left home and went to rent a room in Baghdad’s red light district but in the second week of his stay, the landlord came into his room drunk and raped him.
Khalid moved into another area of the city but he started receiving death threats from a work colleague who belonged to an extreme religious sect. One night, the colleague propositioned Khalid and, when he refused, pulled out a gun and raped him. “After that I couldn’t look into the eyes of anyone at work,” he says.
Khalid then began a relationship with a doctor and moved in with him, but one night the doctor invited two friends round and the three men raped Khalid. He knew that violence against gay people was increasing, and that a religious group had killed two of his friends already.
Two Lebanese organizations, ‘Proud’ and ‘Secret Garden’ advised him to leave Iraq. He left at the end of January 2015 and came straight to Beirut, where he applied for refugee status and is awaiting resettlement. He says: “What we are facing is beyond what anyone could imagine, because reality is much worse than what I mentioned.”Robin HammondGad (not his real name)
Beirut, Lebanon, Feb. 2015
33-year-old Gad says he left the war-torn city of Homs, Syria in July 2014 because his neighborhood was bombed several times. He moved to Lebanon in search of a job to assist his parents. He found work at the hammam giving massages. (Gay men often go to hammams for sex)
In August 2014, police raided his place of work and took the staff and clients to the Hbeish, the morality police. He says they kicked, punched and beat them with water tubes, demanding names of other gay people.
The Lebanese penal code prohibits having sexual relations that ‘contradict the laws of nature’, punishable by up to a year in prison. A humanitarian organization provided them with lawyers and they were released after 28 days, but since Gad’s release, he hasn’t been able to find a job or a place to live. “They cancel our dignity just because we are gays.” Robin Hammond