In Uganda I hardly knew any other people 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. All those joyful, free people — and the police taking part in the festivities. It’s very different in her home country, Uganda. Because of her sexual orientation, Sarah had to flee.
From the asylum centre in Almere, Sarah Trecia speaks clearly and eloquently about everything she has experienced. She is careful about what she shares — some things are too raw, too painful. Anything she posts online risks being seen by people back in Uganda.
LGBTQ+ rights in Uganda are notoriously poor — in practice they are almost non-existent. The country made international headlines in May 2023 for passing one of the world’s harshest anti-LGBTQ+ laws. Even before that, same-sex sexual activity was already criminalised. The new law increased penalties: homosexual acts can carry life imprisonment. For certain ‘aggravated’ offenses — for example sexual contact with someone who is HIV-positive — the country even prescribes the death penalty. Repeat convictions for homosexuality can also lead to the death penalty. In addition, you can face up to twenty years if you are seen to ‘promote’ homosexuality, which criminalises the work of LGBTQ+ activists and service providers.
It’s clear why Sarah chooses her words carefully. Yet she doesn’t need many words to give voice to queer refugees and to paint a vivid 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 made it here, but she didn’t manage to flee. She was arrested. As far as I know, almost two years later, she is still detained.”
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 really want contact. From the current situation she is therefore not aware of their state. But she does know: “Being arrested is the easy part. At least when the police pick you up after the crowd has found you. The population in Uganda is extremely homophobic.Mob justice, where an angry crowd takes matters into its own hands and beats someone they believe has done wrong, is common.”
Wentworth Miller
“I tried not to be, but as a teenager I knew I was different,” Sarah continues. “I fought it, I prayed against it. That obviously didn’t work. I always kept my being a lesbian a secret. There was no other option. Most people like me flee. I hardly knew any other queer people because it’s almost impossible to find out 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 the trust needed to be accepted into them.”
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 am a big fan ofPrison Break. When I found out Wentworth Miller is attracted to men, I thought: hold on — I’m not the only one! The same went 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 can’t be this.’”
Her family now knows she is a lesbian because of what happened. She still has contact with one cousin, but with no one else. “They don’t want to see me.” Sarah falls silent. “Fortunately in Amsterdam there is an organisation where other queer refugees and I can turn with questions or problems, Queer to Support. I’m also in therapy, once a week. That helps a lot — mentally I wasn’t doing well when I first arrived. I’m not keen on talking about my own problems much. Every resident at the asylum centre has their own things to worry about. No one is here for no reason.”
During Pride Sarah will talk about what she experienced. She did so last year too: she sailed on the Femmazing boat and was interviewed for a short video. Maybe that’s why Pride Amsterdam asked her to be an ambassador this year, she thinks. “The exact plans aren’t known yet, but I will at least tell my story in interviews in the hope of inspiring others. In any case this is for mehuge. I never expected to be asked to do this. I’m also nervous. First of all because I havesocial anxiety and soon I’ll have to speak in front of groups, about myself no less. But it will be fine — I usually focus on a point on the wall so I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone, that helps.”
Brave, but vulnerable
There’s another reason for those nerves. “Having my face shown everywhere is very nerve-wracking for me. Maybe someone back home will see it. And there are also homophobic Ugandans living in the Netherlands. Will I still be able to socialise with compatriots here afterwards, for example at the asylum centre? I don’t know the answer. But this is an opportunity to be who I am and to stand up for people like me.”
Brave and vulnerable go hand in hand, as Sarah’s story shows. “I have to ask myself how much of myself I want to show. I’ll think carefully about that, but I also don’t want to live in fear. That fear has to stop somewhere, but that iswork in progress.”
Besides her speeches, Sarah will also fully enjoy Pride. What she’s most looking forward to is being on the boat. “I’d skip the next few months and jump straight there if I could,” she laughs. “When I sailed last year, I didn’t know what was happening to me. All those joyful, free people cheering you on and celebrating together without looking over their shoulder — it was very strange for me, especially that the police were part of it. It opened a new worldview for me. I looked around in amazement. If you grow up in Uganda, it’s almost unimaginable.”
Although she finds it hard to put into words, she says she was stunned. “It’s like someone who has never experienced peace trying to explain it to someone who has never known war. I was truly astonished.” Sarah is currently waiting for her interview with the IND; only after that 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’d had that 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 hidden love message.”
Pride ambassador since 2025
