In Uganda I hardly knew anyone else like me
Video: André Kloer
Text: Tim van Erp
Photo: Jon Haywood
Sarah Trecia didn’t know what hit her the first time she celebrated Pride in Amsterdam. So many joyful, free people. And the police took part in the festivities. That’s very different from her home country Uganda. Sarah had to flee because of her sexuality.
From the reception centre in Almere, Sarah Trecia speaks clearly and eloquently about everything she has been through. She, however, keeps a careful watch over what she does and does not want to share. Some things are too raw, too painful. And anything she posts online might be seen by people back in Uganda.
LGBTQ+ rights in Uganda are notoriously poor — effectively non-existent. The country made headlines in May 2023 for introducing one of the world’s strictest anti‑LGBTQ+ laws. Even before that, same‑sex sexual activity was criminalised. The new law tightened those restrictions: homosexuality can now carry a life sentence. For certain “aggravated” homosexual acts, such as sexual relations with someone who is HIV‑positive, the law prescribes the death penalty. The same applies if someone is convicted multiple times for homosexuality. In addition, you can face up to twenty years in prison for “promoting” homosexuality, which criminalises the work of LGBTQ+ rights activists and support workers.
It’s clear why Sarah chooses her words carefully. But she doesn’t need many words to give a voice to queer refugees and to paint a powerful picture of her own story. The 26‑year‑old fled to the Netherlands after she was caught with another woman in her home country. “I came here, but she couldn’t escape. She was arrested. As far as I know, almost two years later, she is still in detention.”
Given Ugandan law, it’s likely that the woman will spend the rest of her life in prison. Sarah tried to keep in touch with the woman’s family, but they don’t want contact with her. From due to the current situation she’s not informed. But she knows: “Being arrested is the easy part. If the police pick you up after the crowd has found you, that is. The population in Uganda is extremely homophobic.Mob justice, where an angry crowd takes matters into their own hands and beats someone they believe has done something wrong, is common.”
Wentworth Miller
“I tried not to be it, but as a teenager I already knew I was different,” Sarah continues. “I tried to fight it, to pray it away. That didn’t work, of course. I always kept it a secret that I’m a lesbian. There was no other option. Most people like me flee. I barely knew anyone like me, because you can hardly tell who is queer; almost no one will share that with you, it’s too dangerous. There are some underground groups, but it takes a long time to build enough trust to be admitted.”
As she grew older, Sarah realised there was nothing wrong with her. “Mostly thanks to the internet. There I read about celebrities who are gay. I’m a big fan ofPrison Break. When I found out Wentworth Miller likes men, I thought: wait a minute, I’m not the only one! The same was true for Ellen DeGeneres, whom I was obsessed with. What I read online didn’t match what I’d been told my whole life: ‘This is not right, you cannot and must not be this.’”
Sarah’s family now know she is a lesbian because of what happened. She still has contact with one cousin, but nobody else. “They don’t want to see me.” Sarah falls silent for a moment. “Luckily in Amsterdam there is an organisation where other queer refugees and I can go with questions or problems: Queer to Support. I’m also in therapy, I go once a week. It helps a lot — mentally I wasn’t doing well when I first arrived here. Beyond that, I don’t like to talk much about my own problems. Every resident at the reception centre has their own things to deal with. Nobody is here for no reason.”
During Pride, Sarah will speak about what she has experienced. She did that last year as well: she sailed on the Femmazing boat and was interviewed for a short video. Maybe that led Pride Amsterdam to ask her to be an ambassador this year, she thinks. “The exact plans are not yet known, but I will at least tell my story in interviews in the hope of inspiring others. In any case, this ishuge. I never expected to be asked to do this. I’m also nervous. First of all, because I havesocial anxiety and will have to speak in front of groups, about myself no less. But it will be fine — I usually focus on a spot on the wall so I don’t have to look anyone in the eye; that makes it easier.”
Brave, but vulnerable
There’s another reason for those nerves. “Having my face seen everywhere is very unnerving for me. Maybe someone back home will see it. And there are Ugandans living in the Netherlands who are homophobic. Will I still be able to socialise with fellow countrymen afterwards, for example at the reception centre? I don’t know the answer. But this is at least an opportunity to be who I am and to stand up for others like me.”
Bravery and vulnerability go hand in hand, as Sarah’s story shows. “I have to ask myself how much of myself I want to reveal. I’ll think carefully about that, but at the same time I don’t want to live in fear. That fear has to stop somewhere, but it iswork in progress.”
Besides giving speeches, Sarah plans to fully enjoy Pride. What she’s most looking forward to is standing on the boat. “I wish the next months would fly by so I could jump straight there,” she laughs. “When I sailed last year, I didn’t know what to expect. All those joyful, free people cheering you on and celebrating together without looking over their shoulder — that was very strange to me, especially that the police were part of it. It opened a new worldview for me. I stood around looking on in wonder. If you grow up in Uganda, you can hardly imagine this.”
Although she manages well, she finds it hard to put into words, she says. “It’s like someone who has never known peace trying to explain it to someone who has only known war. I was truly stunned.” Sarah is currently awaiting her interview with the IND; only afterwards will it be decided whether she can stay in the Netherlands. “I’m waiting. A friend here in the Netherlands gave me a ring she said was a sign of good fortune. She had owned the ring for years and felt I needed the luck more than she did. It was incredibly special. That’s why I wear the ring in my portrait as Pride ambassador as my secret love message.”
Pride ambassador since 2025
