My mum found out about my sexuality when I was 13 (Picture: Getty Images)
A week after my mother first beat me, my parents came home with two men.
They took me to a room in the house and asked me to take my clothes off. They grabbed me, held down my hands and spread my legs.
Kneeling down between my legs, the two men tried to circumcise me. I was screaming as he cut. Blood was everywhere. I wasn’t given any pain medication. They almost killed me.
It was the start of a lifetime of pain, physical abuse and trauma, all inflicted on me because of the simple fact I’m a lesbian.
I was born and raised in Nigeria – but I’m now in my 40s and live in the UK. I was granted asylum, but only after a five-year process during which I was detained, given notice for deportation, and left suicidal as I was left to languish in prison-like conditions.
In my experience, the British Home Office treats people in my situation like animals. That has to change.
My mum found out about my sexuality when I was 13. I was at home with a girl I was in a relationship with when she came home early from work. She started shouting at me, calling me an abomination.
I’d always had a good relationship with my mum. That changed in an instant. She started beating me from that day, and it didn’t stop. She’d use a cane, bat – anything she could get a hold of.
My parents wanted to take the devil out of me, and they thought it had worked because I wasn’t myself after I was attacked by those two men.
But I was just traumatised and sinking deep into depression. My sexuality stayed the same. It’s who I am.
In 2012, when I was 30, my parents sponsored me to come to the UK to study business management at university. During my first year, they pressured me into getting into a relationship with a man, telling me that they wouldn’t support me financially otherwise.
I married one in 2013 to appease them. But it was never going to last, and when we split after five months, my parents stopped paying my tuition fees.
I asked the Home Office to release me because of the risks I faced, but they refused
My student visa ran out in 2014, but I couldn’t go back to Nigeria. I was too scared of what I’d face because of my sexuality.
But I also didn’t have any money. I sofa-surfed with friends for three years, then the Home Office found me in 2017. They immediately took me to Yarl’s Wood, the notorious immigration detention centre that’s now been deemed ‘unsafe’ by HM Inspectorate of Prisons.
For six months, I was locked in what felt like a prison. I had to share a bedroom and a bathroom. My freedom felt like it had been taken away.
No one knew I was a lesbian, I didn’t dare tell anyone. I had heard about the violence gay people faced in detention and was terrified about being attacked.
I asked the Home Office to release me because of the risks but they refused. At the time, I didn’t know I could claim asylum in this country based on the persecution I faced at home.
People fleeing violence and persecution on the basis of their sexuality qualify as refugees under the 1951 Refugee Convention.
But the British Home Office has long been accused of not believing that LGBT+ asylum seekers are who they say they are. And in September 2023, Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, claimed that asylum seekers pretend to be gay to get ‘special treatment’.
To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web
browser that
supports HTML5
video
My first solicitor, who helped me make my asylum application, and my Home Office interviewer were both men. I was afraid to tell either of them about my sexuality. As a result, my application was refused and I was given notice for my deportation.
As the weeks went by, my mental health drastically declined. No one could help me because I was afraid to tell them I was a lesbian.
This, combined with the fears of being deported and the trauma of what had been done to me in Nigeria, led me to suffer with post traumatic stress. I was suicidal at several points.
I wasn’t the only one. I saw several women attempt to take their own lives at Yarl’s Wood.
My physical body was suffering too. My haemoglobin levels were so low that I had to have continuous transfusions to the point that I became bed-bound. I suspect it may have been to do with the quality of food we received, but I can’t say for certain.
Even then, the Home Office was still trying to deport me.
I contacted the immigration charity Medical Justice. They helped me prove why I couldn’t be deported – my blood level was too low for me to fly – and to be released from Yarl’s Wood on health grounds.
They also connected me with another solicitor, this time a woman, who I felt able to open up to. She challenged the Home Office’s decision in court, arguing that my case should be reviewed again, this time taking into account my sexuality.
Once I got out of Yarl’s Wood, I joined Women for Refugee’s Rainbow Sisters solidarity group for LGBTQ+ refugee and asylum-seeking women. Here, I found a community of people like me, friends who I talk to every day.
I didn’t have to hide anything from them. So many of them have gone through the same issues as me.
More from Platform
Platform is the home of Metro.co.uk’s first-person and opinion pieces, devoted to giving a platform to underheard and underrepresented voices in the media.
Find some of our best reads of the week below:
After Hallie told fellow Big Brother contestants about the cost of gender-affirming surgery, trans writer Alex Woolhouse tells her own story.
Huntington’s Disease is a rare illness that causes the brain to generate, and it led Charlotte Hewitt to almost fatally stab herself in the stomach.
Have you ever been on a blind date? Samson Dada thought his went ok, until it emerged his friends had paid the woman to go along.
And as war continues to rage, Ellie Middleton wants celebrities to lay off posting about the Israel-Hamas conflict.
Just as I was feeling more positive, the Home Office refused my claim in 2020, saying they didn’t believe I was a lesbian.
Their disbelief stunned me. Why would I suffer all these years if I wasn’t?
For the next two years, as I appealed, just existing was excruciating. I was living between temporary accommodation and with friends. Even with my new support system at Rainbow Sisters, life felt hard.
Finally, in September 2022, I received the news I’d been waiting so long for: my claim had been granted.
Since then, I’ve tried to rebuild my life, but it hasn’t been easy. It’s been hard to find a job because of my mental health, which I still struggle with. I’d like to pursue a career in science as a researcher, but have been told I need documents from my country, and I don’t know how to get them.
After being so suppressed and living in fear for so long, community and my new-found independence are building me back up. I don’t have the headspace for a relationship, so I’m currently single.
I wish the Home Office would treat us like human beings, not animals. That they would try to understand our trauma and why we fled our home countries.
*Name changed to protect identity
As told to Lauren Crosby Medlicott
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
Share your views in the comments below.
MORE : I’d be killed in Nigeria for being gay – Braverman makes me sick
MORE : I felt hopeless for the LGBTQ+ community – until this Big Brother
MORE : The Home Office warned I had less than 24 hours to move to the Bibby Stockholm barge
They thought it had worked because I wasn’t myself after I was attacked by those two men.