My sweet pup is fighting for her life right now. Every day is a struggle, and the vet bills are piling up faster than I can handle. I’m heartbroken and desperate—if you can spare anything to help, it would mean the world. Thank you for your kindness.”

A boy named Omar used to sit with me, whispering stories of the city he dreamed of—one where people like us could be free. I told him that place did not exist, not for people like us. He smiled anyway. Then one morning, he was gone. Some say his family found out.

I used to have a name. Now, I am just another number, another body in a sea of the displaced. The food lines are long, the water is never enough, and the nights are the worst. The whispers in the dark, the eyes that follow me. They know.

Nowhere to Belong

The tents stretch endlessly, their tattered edges flapping in the dry wind. I have been here for two years. Two years since I ran, since the men in my village found out. Since my father told me I was better off dead.

Loneliness settled in like an unwelcome guest. While others found comfort in their communities, I had to navigate this space alone. I longed for a kind word, for someone to tell me it was okay to exist as I was. Instead, I found myself retreating further

The threats and stares began almost immediately. Some whispered behind my back; others didn’t bother hiding their disgust. Once, a group cornered me, accusing me of “bringing shame” to the camp. I was terrified they would hurt me, but I was equally afraid to report it

When I arrived at the refugee camp, I thought I had escaped the worst. But I quickly learned that safety was relative. In a crowded space filled with people from different cultures and beliefs, being openly gay felt like another fight for survival.

The Weight of Two Battles
I never thought I’d have to leave everything behind—family, friends, the familiar warmth of home—but being who I am put me in danger. As a gay man in a country where love like mine is considered a crime, survival often meant hiding my true self.

He sat alone, his heart heavy. His partner of ten years, the love of his life, was gone, taken by a society that never fully accepted them. Fear, hate, and judgment wore him down. “We fought so hard,” he whispered. “But I can’t do this alone. Please, stand with us. Love deserves a chance to win.”

Every day, I wore a mask, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, praying for a freedom I didn’t believe would come. When I finally found the courage to tell my truth, the backlash was swift and painful. My father disowned me, my mother wept like I had died, and I lost almost everyone I held dear.

Growing up gay in Africa was a silent battle I had to fight every day. The fear of rejection from my family, the whispers from neighbors, and the sermons that painted me as sinful made me shrink into myself. I couldn’t tell my mother; I saw the pride in her eyes when she spoke of my future.

I’m a gay person struggling deeply. My family disowned me, and I’ve faced constant rejection and hate. Loneliness consumes me, and each day feels heavier. I’m emotionally broken, with no safe space or support. If you’re able, please help me find hope, resources, or a community. I truly need you.