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For many refugees, the move to a new country marks a difficult departure from familiar cultural norms and customs, often posing challenges in their initial transition abroad. But despite that swift change and period of adjustment, newcomers still carry a trove of knowledge and lived experiences that enrich not only the people they meet, but also the communities, workplaces, organizations, and institutions they become part of. That idea is at the heart of the Qissa Festival, a gathering that celebrates newcomer and refugee writers and rejects the idea that newcomer artists are “emerging subjects,” instead recognizing them as “established artists, thinkers, and cultural producers.” “An artist may have twenty years of professional experience in their home country, but in Toronto they are labelled as ‘emerging,’” say festival co-founders Haroon Khalid and Anam Zakaria. “Through this festival, we want to challenge that notion.” Eight creatives will share stories on March 29th at Small World Music in Toronto, starting at 11 a.m. Among their roster of talent is screenwriter, playwright, and filmmaker Tala Motazedi, who fled Iran two-and-a-half years ago. Now the PEN Writer-in-Residence at George Brown College, Motazedi credits her move to Canada as the start of a long healing journey addressing the challenges of living under a restrictive regime. Motazedi hopes that queer people and immigrants alike will find her movies healing in their own way. “When I came to Canada, a safe place, I started to do my real job of talking and writing. Making movies about my community, queer people, this is my duty. This is my destination,” she says. “From now to the future, I will make, talk, and write about the queer [experience].” (Motazedi’s 2023 film Orca, a tale of an Iranian record-breaking female swimmer, was banned in Iran, forcing her to leave the country.)It's a sentiment that is felt by many other artists looking to share their work with an audience.The Qissa festival will feature multidisciplinary performances, including readings, screenings, exhibitions, and oral histories telling the stories of Toronto-based immigrants and refugees. Rainbow Railroad recently spoke with the Qissa co-founders about the festival’s origins, the significance of spotlighting immigrant and refugee artists, and more. The following interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. Rainbow Railroad: Can you talk about Qissa and how the festival came to be? Both Qissa and the festival emerged from our personal experiences as racialized immigrant artists in Toronto. With Qissa, we wanted to create a space where immigrants tell their stories in their own words, without having to fit into a particular mould or framework, which is usually informed by the Western Gaze. The festival is then a way through which we bring our vision to life, with newcomer and refugee writers leading the conversation about their own experiences, without being told what stories are important to tell, and which ones are not.Why did you decide to put this event together? What do you hope potential attendees will take away or learn from it? Perhaps the biggest impetus behind this festival was to challenge the notion that newcomer and refugee writers are ‘emerging.’ We realized that even the most well-meaning support programs frame newcomer and refugee artists as ‘emerging.’ This ends up informing the kind of programming that is developed for these artists. So, an artist may have twenty years of professional experience in their home country, but in Toronto, they are labelled as ‘emerging.’ Through this festival, we want to celebrate these incredible artists for the depth of expertise and experience they bring, while encouraging the attendees to reflect on the current programs and support systems within the arts and beyond, including how they may need to be re-examined and re-imagined. We also hope that this is a space for attendees who have a love for the arts to engage with some brilliant performances and thoughtful conversations, and for other newcomers and refugees to feel seen and validated. Your event aims to highlight creatives "not as emerging subjects, but as established artists, thinkers, and cultural producers." Can you talk more about this? What do you hope artists will gain from their participation in this event? So, a lot of support programs that are established for newcomers and refugees are designed to ‘help’ them integrate into the Toronto landscape. Inevitably, a majority of these programs put the burden on recent immigrants to navigate systems — job market, housing, arts sector —  without necessarily challenging the unfair and discriminatory systems. This sometimes positions immigrants as recipients of information, rather than a source of information, which is why many programs don’t necessarily reflect what recent immigrants actually need in terms of how to establish themselves here, but rather what people perceive they need. Through this festival, we want to put recent immigrants at the centre, to lead the conversation around the experiences of newcomers and refugees. We worked with all these writers to co-create this festival, from performances, panels, and programming. We wanted to create a space where participating recent immigrants can truly be themselves without being told what they need to do to ‘integrate.’What is the importance of spotlighting refugees and newcomers? Despite there being so many support systems already existing for refugees and newcomers, as recent immigrants ourselves, and based on our qualitative research with other immigrants, we believe that there is a wide gulf between what immigrants need and what support systems offer. Given how much money is invested in these newcomer and refugee support systems, we believe it is imperative to have these conversations, and challenge some of the dominant narratives around newcomers and refugees. At the same time, engaging with refugee and newcomer literary talent and art, beyond stereotypes and tropes, also creates a platform for both celebration and reflection on the stories people carry, and the stories they want to tell versus the stories we sometimes impose or want to hear.Why was it important to include queer artists and creatives?At the core of what we do is challenging the white gaze through which stories of racialized immigrants are told. And particularly in the contemporary political context, may that be wars being fought elsewhere, or political movements in Toronto, rainbow-washing is a dominant phenomenon, which is deeply entwined with the white gaze — perceptions of global south, and saviour narrative of the global north. Any story about the white gaze is incomplete without the story of queer artists and creatives.If you’d like to attend the Qissa festival, please RSVP here.

This Black History Month, we are honouring the historical and contemporary fight for Black queer liberation. This includes sharing the stories of Black-led LGBTQI+ organizations that are on the frontlines of freedom. Today, we are featuring TransWave Jamaica, an organization working to advance the health, welfare, and well-being of the transgender community in Jamaica and the Caribbean.For TransWave Jamaica (TWJ), the fight for trans and gender-nonconforming rights is inextricably connected to the global struggle for Black liberation. In Jamaica, where the impacts of colonization are still felt, trans communities face intersecting forms of marginalization that demand collective, community-led responses.“Our work at TWJ is deeply rooted in the global struggle for Black liberation,” says Yakeem Reid, Media and Communications Specialist at TransWave Jamaica. “The realities faced by trans and gender-nonconforming Jamaicans are inseparable from those lives impacted by the residuals of slavery, racism, and anti-Black violence.”Black liberation movements across the Caribbean and the wider African diaspora have long emphasized dignity, safety, self-determination, and collective care. These values guide TransWave’s approach to advocacy and service delivery, grounding their work in local leadership and lived experience rather than externally imposed models of change.Reimaging Systems: Decolonial Perspectives on LiberationColonization in Jamaica left behind rigid gender norms, punitive laws, and moral frameworks that continue to criminalize and stigmatize LGBTQI+ people. TransWave confronts this legacy head-on by challenging colonial laws and attitudes while centering Afro-Caribbean and Indigenous ways of understanding gender, community, and care.“Our advocacy prioritizes local leadership, lived experience, and culturally grounded approaches,” Reid explains, “resisting the idea that liberation must look like models imported from the Global North.”This decolonial perspective also shapes how TransWave engages with humanitarian systems that were never designed with Black, queer, and trans people in mind. Rather than positioning communities as passive recipients of aid, TransWave insists on dignity, consent, accountability, and long-term investment.“Reimagining humanitarian systems from a decolonial perspective means dismantling systems that treat Black, queer, and trans people as anything less than experts of their own lives,” says Reid. “It’s about shifting power to community-based organizations and valuing local knowledge.”Solidarity Beyond Symbolism In July 2025, TransWave Jamaica received support from Rainbow Railroad’s Crisis Response Fund for a six-month project that provided direct assistance and support to 60 trans and gender-nonconforming individuals facing urgent risks.This partnership helped support access to housing, care packages to meet basic needs, and psychological empowerment workshops. Across borders, solidarity means more than symbolic gestures. “True solidarity moves beyond performative allyship to sustained, accountable partnerships,” Reid says. “It looks like global allies listening to Jamaican trans voices, supporting locally led work, and challenging harmful narratives about the Caribbean as inherently violent or backward.”TransWave’s work is informed by a long lineage of Black queer and trans resistance. Reid points to figures such as Audre Lorde, whose writing on difference and survival resonates deeply within the Caribbean context, as well as Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson, whose grassroots organizing reminds us that trans liberation has always been led by individuals who experience multiple levels of marginalization. Caribbean activists, many of whom organized without recognition or protection, also continue to shape TransWave’s understanding of courage, care, and resistance.Centring Joy and Celebration for Trans Jamaicans For many queer and trans Jamaicans today, the global fight for asylum, safety, and dignity echoes historic Black liberation movements rooted in survival. “Seeking asylum is not about opportunity but about survival,” Reid notes. “The same systems that once justified enslavement and colonial control now determine whose lives are worthy of protection.”Despite immense challenges, TransWave finds hope in the present. Youth-led organizing, mutual aid networks, trans creatives, and regional collaborations are expanding conversations around bodily autonomy, economic justice, and political participation. Care and joy, which are often overlooked in crisis-driven responses, remain central to this resistance.“In a society that often denies trans people safety and celebration, moments of laughter, affirmation, and collective care are radical,” Reid says. “Joy allows our community to breathe, to imagine beyond crisis, and to reclaim wholeness.”Sustained by the resilience and pride of trans Jamaicans who continue to show up for one another, TransWave Jamaica embodies a truth long held by Black liberation movements worldwide: resistance is ongoing, community is essential, and freedom is collective.

As part of Rainbow Railroad’s efforts to better respond to LGBTQI+ refugees’ resettlement needs, we launched a Queer Refugee Internship Program for refugees who have an interest in contributing their lived expertise to the global forced displacement response. Our program provides a unique opportunity for refugees to gain vital work experience, learn new skills, and connect with professionals while elevating the voices of queer refugees. We’re highlighting the stories of individuals who were part of the Queer Refugee Internship Program’s most recent cohort. In this post, a recent QRI shares his experience on both the Communications and Engagement teams. I’m a proud queer Afro-Caribbean man. These intersectional identities don’t automatically guarantee open acceptance in many societies; unfortunately, this can lead to one ‘performing’ heteronormativity or shrinking oneself to access certain opportunities, particularly employment, especially when an individual expresses themselves androgynously.With a passion for queer rights, I leapt at the opportunity to work for an organization whose values so seamlessly aligned with mine. During the spring and summer of 2025, I interned with the Communications team at Rainbow Railroad. It was a wonderful opportunity to apply my years of experience in digital marketing.I was enthused to be tasked with online community management for the organization while applying data analytics to support communications strategy and staying abreast of relevant global news for media reports.During Pride, I supported the management of the organization’s social media channels and tracked online fundraising. I personally designed the placards used during the All Out Rally for 2SLGBTQ+ rights. It was a proud and pivotal point in my career, one in which I made the choice to publicly align myself with an organization that champions queer rights unapologetically. I also had the opportunity to engage with donors, influencers, volunteers, staff, and community members during the annual Rainbow Railroad Freedom Party.I attribute my success on the Communications team to my colleagues who welcomed me with open arms and supported any ideas, suggestions, or proposals I brought to meetings.For the first time, I produced my own fundraiser for Rainbow Railroad within my online community. I was generously encouraged by a colleague on the Development team to undertake this venture in a way that felt most authentic to me. I was able to use storytelling to highlight the important work that Rainbow Railroad does and humanize those who benefit from our services and support, and I’m grateful to have been successful in that effort.In the fall, the Engagement team extended an offer for me to join them as the Mobilization Intern & Communications Liaison. I didn’t hesitate to return and expand my skills within an organization whose work continues to fulfill me.This role allowed me to learn more about post-resettlement programming including Community Support Teams, the Community Access Fund, the Housing and Livelihood Assistance Fund, the Queer Refugee Internship (of which I was a part), and the Queer Refugee Ambassador program across Canada and the U.S.With the guidance of my team I took part in outreach to help form Toronto’s first Community Support Team: a group of volunteers who commit to providing community integration support to an LGBTQI+ asylum seeker. It was truly enriching to see community members so willing to give back and be of service to newcomers.I also identified various organizations whose missions closely aligned with Rainbow Railroad and conducted outreach to propose partnerships in developing Community Support Teams in Toronto. I was successful in securing potential partners and paving the way for these relationships moving into 2026.This initiative was further strengthened by attending the Voices for Change Conference 2025, hosted by Hope for Refugees International (HRI). It was an excellent opportunity to network and connect with fellow attendees and organizations.I’m very proud to have been part of a team that began the groundwork and laid the foundation for what will become many Community Support Teams across the GTA.My work experience at Rainbow Railroad is a testament to what happens when hard work and dedication meet opportunity. Working for Rainbow Railroad fostered a deep sense of belonging, particularly for my queer identity. These internships allowed me to contribute to an organization whose values truly align with mine.

Lee Blair, a romance author and anthology organizer based in Portland, Oregon, never expected a love of queer romance to inspire a movement in support of LGBTQI+ people around the world. But through Candy Hearts, a charity romance anthology she founded, Lee has helped turn stories of queer joy into tangible support for LGBTQI+ refugees, raising awareness and more than $11,000 in funds for Rainbow Railroad in the process.Lee first learned about Rainbow Railroad in 2024, when fellow Candy Hearts author Beck Grey suggested the organization as the beneficiary for the anthology’s second volume. “I wasn’t familiar with Rainbow Railroad prior to that,” Lee says, “but I’m so glad they made the suggestion so I now know about the amazing work you do.” What began as a recommendation quickly became a values-aligned partnership. In 2025, Candy Hearts: Volume 2, which features original stories from 24 queer romance authors, donated all proceeds to Rainbow Railroad.Transforming Global Reach into a Movement for International Solidarity Choosing Rainbow Railroad was intentional. While Candy  Hearts has a largely North American readership, its contributing authors span the globe. Lee wanted the anthology’s impact to reflect that reach. “Rainbow Railroad’s mission and values was such a natural fit for the impact we wanted to make,” she explains.What keeps Lee coming back is the tangible difference Rainbow Railroad makes. She has continued the partnership with Candy Hearts: Volume 3, now available, with all proceeds supporting Rainbow Railroad through March 31, 2026. “As much as I wish organizations like this weren’t necessary,” Lee says, “I’m so glad Rainbow Railroad is here to make a difference and help people find the safety and security they deserve.Harnessing the Power of Queer JoySeeing the impact of her fundraising is deeply emotional for Lee. Romance, particularly low-angst romance that is lighthearted in tone, is often dismissed as unserious, she notes. Yet these stories, centered on queer love and acceptance, have helped make a real difference for LGBTQI+ refugees. “Watching our low-angst stories make a direct impact on supporting LGBTQI+ refugees is incredible,” she says. “It truly makes me emotional.”That impact is personal, too. After coming to terms with her own queerness later in life, Lee sees Candy Hearts as a way to give back. “To be able to use stories of romance and queer joy to support community members in trouble means the world to me.”Lee believes individuals and communities have a critical role to play through donations, advocacy, sharing platforms, and supporting organizations. Her message to LGBTQI+ people seeking safety is simple and powerful: “You are strong. You are worth safety. You are valuable and important.”And for those considering supporting Rainbow Railroad for the first time, Lee doesn’t hesitate: “Do it. Supporting Rainbow Railroad means they can use our collective resources in powerful ways we could never achieve alone.”

This Black History Month, we are honouring the historical and contemporary fight for Black queer liberation. This includes sharing the stories of Black-led LGBTQI+ organizations that are on the frontlines of freedom. Today, we are featuring Rise Initiative for Women’s Right Advocacy (RiWA) South Sudan, an organization promoting and protecting the health, economic, political and social rights of women and other marginalized groups in South Sudan.The legacy of colonization continues to shape life in South Sudan, where imposed borders and decades of political instability have deepened inequality and normalized violence for those pushed to the margins of society. Since 2024, Rainbow Railroad has received more than 250 requests for help from individuals in South Sudan. Individuals who self-reported with the status of “asylum seeker” accounted for 34.60% of requests for help, followed by registered refugees at 31.18%, and “no legal status” with  25.10%.Of the individuals who reported on their health and welfare concerns, 100% had concerns about their lack of basic needs. Of the individuals who reported on their safety concerns, 100% had concerns about community rejection.Inherited Systems of Violence and ExclusionIn South Sudan, LGBTQI+ rights are severely restricted. Currently, same-sex intimacy is criminalized, with punishments of up to fourteen years in prison. The gender expression of trans people is also criminalized. The law criminalizing same-sex intimacy has remained in place since the British colonial period, when British law was enforced in Sudan. South Sudan retained this policy after gaining independence from Sudan in 2011. In this context, frontline organizations working in South Sudan are doing more than delivering services; they are actively resisting the long shadows of colonial harm by centering community-led care and advocacy. RiWA South Sudan is one of these organizations, striving to increase access to critical health services, social supports, and economic empowerment initiatives for those experiencing multiple levels of marginalization.Community-Led Care on the FrontlinesAsan Juma, human rights defender, activist and Executive Director of RiWA, shares the following: “RiWA confronts the legacy of colonization by promoting community-led advocacy that prioritizes local knowledge, lived experiences, and culturally relevant solutions rather than externally imposed approaches.” In September 2025, RiWA received funding through Rainbow Railroad’s Grassroots Mobilization Fund, a partnership model that invests in the long-term capacity of grassroots LGBTQI+ movements to create change.Through the funding they received from Rainbow Railroad, RiWA will continue to provide critical frontline support to local LGBTQI+ community members, including psychosocial and mental health services, emergency relief items, and rights awareness and legal empowerment workshops. This project will support 170 individuals in South Sudan. Reimagining Support Through a Decolonial LensFor the organization, when providing support to Black queer and trans communities, it is vital to reimagine systems of support through a decolonial perspective. Juma describes what this means in practice:“It requires shifting power to affected communities by ensuring they are involved in decision-making, program design, and service delivery, allowing them to shape solutions that directly respond to their needs. It means creating safe, inclusive, and confidential protection pathways that recognize the increased risks faced by Black, queer, and trans refugees, including family rejection, violence in camps, and discrimination from service providers.”In addition to providing essential services, they also ensure that there is space for healing and joy, which are powerful acts of resistance.“Through sports, especially women’s football, we create opportunities for joy, teamwork, self-expression, and confidence building. Sports allow community members to reclaim their bodies, celebrate their identities, and challenge harmful gender norms,” she explains. “RiWA organizes community dialogues, storytelling sessions, and creative expression activities such as art, music, and cultural engagement, which allow individuals to celebrate their identities while preserving cultural pride.”Carrying Forward a Legacy of ResistanceThe work can be challenging, but Juma is sustained personally by deep investment in the work, as she shares: “Seeing small but meaningful changes, whether in someone’s confidence, safety, or access to justice, fuels my belief that progress is possible even in harsh environments.” She also finds inspiration in the work of queer African activists including Stella Nyanzi, Frank Mugisha, and Richard Lusimbo. Although Black History Month is often focused on the past, resistance is ongoing. Juma also sees the connection and ongoing legacy of historic Black liberation movements: “Past movements highlighted the importance of intersectionality, recognizing that people experience oppression differently based on race, gender, class, and sexuality,” Juma shares. “This framework helps shape current advocacy efforts to ensure LGBTQI+ refugees are protected from multiple and layered forms of discrimination.” By supporting LGBTQI+ people to survive, organize, and lead, the work of RiWA South Sudan challenges inherited systems of exclusion and helps build pathways toward dignity, self-determination, and lasting justice.

It's been decades since Ghana gained independence from the British Empire, setting off a chain reaction on a continent where dozens of countries struggled under the weight of European rule. But while British colonialism may seem like a hallmark of the past, its legal and cultural legacies remain deeply embedded in the present. Colonial-era anti-LGBTQI+ laws continue to shape legal systems and public attitudes, disproportionately impacting Black LGBTQI+ people across Africa and the global diaspora. In recent years, attacks against queer, trans, and gender nonconforming individuals have intensified alongside a broader global political shift to the far right, emboldening politicians to embrace and champion the backsliding of LGBTQI+ rights. Today, more than 60 UN member states criminalize consensual same-sex intimacy worldwide. Around half of such nations reside in Africa, with similar laws enforced across parts of the Middle East and Caribbean. Read More: The Anti-Homosexuality Act Now: The Path Forward for LGBTQI+ Rights in UgandaThe erosion of LGBTQI+ rights is rooted in a growing number of punitive laws: Uganda’s 2023 Anti-Homosexuality Act, one of the most extreme pieces of anti-LGBTQI+ legislation in the world, imposes life imprisonment for consensual same-sex relations. Nigeria’s Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act, passed a decade earlier, goes beyond just banning marriage equality.  The law also prohibits same-sex public displays of affection and criminalizes LGBTQI+ organizations and gatherings. And across the continent in Kenya, same-sex intimacy between men is subject to up to 14 years in prison.In each of these instances, the criminalization of LGBTQI+ people can be traced back to anti-LGBTQI+ laws imposed by Britain. Some experts argue, however, that some countries have since expanded and intensified those provisions.  “What we are witnessing today goes far beyond colonial legacy,” says Dennis Wamala, a Program Officer at Rainbow Railroad, who fled Uganda and relocated to Canada with the organization’s support. Read More: ‘Silence Was Not Survival’: How Dennis Turned His Story into Action“In countries such as Uganda, these laws have been deliberately expanded and weaponized under the influence of religious extremism and political opportunism. The result is legislation that is not only more punitive than the original colonial statutes, but openly inhumane,” he adds. “This is not about protecting culture or morality, it is about using LGBTQI+ people as political scapegoats to mobilize fear, distract from governance failures, and consolidate power.”A history of colonial anti-LGBTQI+ laws   Homosexuality was first codified as a civil crime in Britain following King Henry VIII’s passage of the Buggery Act of 1533, which made sexual relations between two men punishable by death. The law, which described same-sex sexual relations as “detestable and abominable,” remained in place in some way or another in England and Wales until 1967. In the centuries following the passage of the act, negative attitudes towards homosexuality remained dominant in society, with little movement towards equality. By the late 1800s, as several European nations, and particularly Britain, moved to take control over the African continent, such beliefs of queerness were imposed on African colonies under the British Criminal Code Act of 1916. The law criminalized "carnal knowledge against the order of nature," similar to the 1862 Indian Penal Code—used in the then-British colony of India—which also criminalized same-sex intimacy. The impact of British anti-LGBTQI+ laws The new laws imposed on African colonies marked a significant shift from a range of societal norms, where homosexuality was not consistently treated as a crime and, in some societies, was accepted within social life. While conservative voices today may promote anti-gay laws to protect traditional “African family values,” with Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni calling homosexuality a “deviation” and asking lawmakers to resist “imperialist” pressure, research indicates that there were no policies outlawing homosexuality in Africa prior to colonization. Nevertheless, the influence of modern-day religious and Evangelical movements, and their homophobic nature, has become common all across Africa, as it's also been embraced as a popular political tactic to earn support from voters.  The consequences are tangible. Uganda currently ranks third in the list of countries where Rainbow Railroad receives the most requests for help. Since the passage of the Anti-Homosexuality Act in March 2023, Rainbow Railroad has received more than 3,400 requests for help.  That's not to say that LGBTQI+ equality has not made strides among some former colonies. South Africa became the first country on the continent to legalize same-sex marriage in 2006, ahead of England and New Zealand. The state functions as a pioneer in the region despite current challenges impacting queer, trans, and gender nonconforming refugees who flee to the country from other nearby regions. In June 2024, the Namibian High Court decriminalized same-sex relations—reversing a colonial-era law inherited from South Africa. A year earlier, the court recognized some civil unions between same-sex couples conducted abroad. That advancement came with swift backlash: In 2025, Namibian President Nangolo Mbumba passed a bill to block recognition of same-sex marriage, likely in response to negative cultural attitudes towards queer, trans, and gender nonconforming individuals. Elsewhere, similar tensions continue to unfold. The Kenyan Court of Appeals last year adjourned constitutional challenges to their existing penal code, which criminalizes same-sex actions. Earlier, the state considered Family Protection Bill 2023, which would expand current penalties for same-sex intimacy and further prohibit homosexuality, same-sex marriage, gender-affirming care procedures, and more. More than 2,200 requests for help from Kenya have been recorded from 2020 to 2025, with a near 200% increase from 2022 to 2023.Looking aheadThe legacy of colonialism continues to shape the legal and social realities facing Black LGBTQI+ people today. But it does not define the future. Across Africa and the global diaspora, activists, community leaders, and advocates are challenging inherited laws, reclaiming histories, and building movements grounded in dignity, care, and self-determination.Progress is often uneven, and frequently met with resistance, but it is undeniable. Court victories, community organizing, and international solidarity are opening new pathways towards safety.The work ahead remains urgent. Dismantling colonial-era legal systems, confronting political opportunism, and addressing deep-rooted stigma will require sustained commitment. The story is still being written, not only in courtrooms and legislatures, but in the everyday courage of people refusing to disappear. And in that collective resistance lies a powerful truth: change is not only possible, it is already underway. 

Like many couples today, Stefania and Angela first connected online, feeling an immediate connection through their virtual communications. “I drew her portrait, began supporting her emotionally, and she supported me in return,” Stefania shares. “Very quickly, a spark passed between us, and we realized that we loved each other.”In Russia, where Stefania and Angela both lived prior to resettling, LGBTQI+ people face discrimination without legal protections. In recent years, the climate has worsened.Criminalized for Who They Are: LGBTQI+ Life in Russia Today“We were forced to leave our country," says Stefania, referring to the 2023 Russian Supreme Court decision that labeled the LGBTQ+ community as "extremist" and "terrorist." The court ruling banned the couple from "living openly and safely" and legitimized "bullying, discrimination, and violence against us,” Stefania says.Under these circumstances, Stefania and Angela also experienced financial hardship, and struggled to meet their basic needs. “All of this was compounded by constant discrimination and the threat of violence,” she explains.After reaching out to Rainbow Railroad, Stefania and Angela made plans to relocate to Spain. The decision to leave was not taken lightly, and their travels were fraught with anxiety. “We were also afraid that passport controls might stop us, or that we might say something wrong,” Stefania shares. However, their travels passed without incident, and Stefania and Angela began to rebuild their lives in a new country.Starting Over in Spain: Freedom to Love OpenlyFor both women, Spain was a chance to experience their relationship in a way that they had never imagined. Stefania describes the feeling of freedom that the couple shares now:“After the move, the constant tension left our bodies. We hold hands in public, kiss openly, and live freely in our rights. We became calmer, freer, and genuinely happier.”They have taken advantage of everything that a new country has to offer, and celebrate many aspects of their new home. “We rejoiced in the tasty food, the landscapes, and the feeling that almost everything around us was filled with warmth and care. We finally breathed in freedom,” Stefania says. They have built a new, chosen family with their neighbours, and have decorated their home together: “We were given cozy blankets, and on the shelf I placed a candle and several Funko Pop figurines.” A Pride flag hangs in their apartment: a symbol of the visibility that they can now celebrate. Together, they now enjoy simple pleasures, the moments in a romantic relationship that many people take for granted: “What brings us joy is cooking together, going for walks, watching movies, and simply hugging each other.”The Internet as a Pathway to Love and SafetyStefania and Angela are excited to celebrate Valentine’s Day, for the first time since they started dating, in a country where they experience safety and security. Stefania describes their hopes for the day, sharing, “I think we might have a picnic on the pier and watch the sea together.” LGBTQI+ people in Russia now face additional barriers in seeking assistance. In October of 2025, Russia blocked access to Rainbow Railroad’s website, cutting off a vital resource for LGBTQI+ people at risk. The internet—the same way that Angela and Stefania met each other and sparked a deep connection—was also a critical tool on their pathway to safety. Still, Stefania and Angela urge other LGBTQI+ people at risk to have hope in the potential of a safer future: “Do not give up, and believe in something better,” Stefania says. Since the moment they met, their relationship has been a way forward, representing hope, resilience, and the future that they can now build together. 

Meet Sizwe, Rainbow Railroad's Policy Officer.

Rainbow Railroad condemns the decision of Russian authorities to continue their crusade to criminalize queer people. Earlier this week, the government threatened to designate the Russian LGBT Network, one of the country’s largest LGBTQI+ civil society organizations, as an “extremist organization.” If approved, any participation in the organization’s activities, including volunteering, providing services, or displaying its symbols, could lead to administrative or criminal prosecution. This action follows the continued escalation of anti-LGBTQI+ repression, including the 2023 ruling that labelled the “international LGBT movement” as extremist and enacting legislation that restricted gender-affirming care and legal gender recognition.Russian authorities have intensified efforts to limit access to LGBTQI+ information online, including blocking Rainbow Railroad’s website, censoring independent media, and expanding laws that criminalize access to materials labelled “extremist.” These measures sever a critical lifeline that many LGBTQI+ people rely on to obtain information on existing legal protections, guidance, and pathways to safety, deepening isolation and increasing vulnerability for LGBTQI+ Russians already at risk.Rainbow Railroad has repeatedly denounced the broader campaign targeting LGBTQI+ civil society across Russia and the wider region. “This is life-threatening for many LGBTQI+ Russians. Anti-LGBTQI+ judicial actions are directly driving protection needs and forced displacement,” says Ilana Landsberg-Lewis, CEO, Rainbow Railroad.In 2025, Rainbow Railroad received over 600 Requests for Help from LGBTQI+ people living in Russia or Russian citizens, representing a more than 50% increase compared to the previous year. Notably, 65% of requests were submitted by LGBTQI+ Russians still residing within the country. LGBTQI+ Russians requesting help specifically cited the dangers of being openly queer in Russia, and the legal risks created by the designation of queer movements as “extremist.” “These figures reflect escalating risk, shrinking civic space, censorship of information channels, and the growing barriers LGBTQI+ people face in accessing protection and support,” says Langsberg-Lewis. “All these risks have been reported by our Russian partner organizations, who are all being targeted by this harmful campaign.”Rainbow Railroad has supported LGBTQI+ individuals fleeing persecution from Russia since the Chechnya anti-gay purges and continues to expand emergency relocation pathways and crisis response systems for those at risk. In response to the current escalation, Rainbow Railroad is mobilizing emergency assistance to support the Russian LGBT Network to ensure that LGBTQI+ Russians affected by these developments continue to have access to safety, reliable information, legal protections, and secure pathways to refuge. As Russian authorities attempt to ban human rights organizations, restrict the public display of LGBTQI+ symbols and public expression, they cannot erase LGBTQI+ communities or the global queer movement that sustains them.We call on the Canadian government, the European Union, community members and international partners to act with urgency and principle by sustaining funding for human rights defenders and frontline LGBTQI+ civil society organizations worldwide, and consider the following actions:Expand emergency visas and dedicated human rights defender protection streams for LGBTQI+ Russians forced into exile.Publicly condemn the weaponization of “anti-extremism” laws used to criminalize identity, suppress civic space, and legitimize the systemic assault on the rights of LGBTQI+ people.Increase flexible and rapid-response funding for frontline LGBTQI+ organizations providing humanitarian protection, relocation assistance, and crisis services to LGBTQI+ Russians in forced displacement.Safeguard access to independent LGBTQI + information channels and secure communication platforms that connect LGBTQI+ people who face persecution to life-saving protection pathways and LGBTQI+ support networks.We call on our community to donate in support of Rainbow Railroad’s work to mobilize emergency assistance for those most at-risk. The attempt to label Russian LGBTQI+ organizations as a national threat is part of a broader effort to erase communities from public life. Yet their continued existence is a powerful act of resilience. Rainbow Railroad stands alongside those working in difficult and courageous spaces to defend the rights, safety, and dignity of the most vulnerable, and we call on the international community to act with urgency to protect them.

For years, fear dictated Julie’s days. Where she could go, who she could trust, how visible she could afford to be. In Uganda, being openly trans meant living in the shadow of criminalization, harassment, and violence. Survival meant vigilance. Freedom felt unimaginable. Yet today, Julie is building a life rooted not in fear, but in possibility.Julie is a proud transgender woman from Uganda, a country where simply existing as an LGBTQI+ person can be life-threatening. For her, identity and survival were never separate. “For many years, life there was filled with fear — constant threats, harassment, and violence simply because I dared to live as myself,” she shares.Her advocacy for LGBTQI+ rights only intensified the danger. In a context where queer and trans people are criminalized, visibility can come at a devastating cost. She fled Uganda for Kenya, carrying the weight of loss, fear, and uncertainty about what the future might hold. With support from Rainbow Railroad, that future eventually led her to Canada.Finding Home and Beginning to Heal“Canada is the first place I have ever been able to call ‘home,’” Julie says. After years of living in survival mode, she arrived in a country where she could finally breathe. “It’s a country where I can live without fear, where my gender identity is respected, and where I can finally begin rebuilding my life.”Safety, however, is only the first step. Like many newcomers, Julie faced the challenge of starting over — navigating a new culture, new systems, and the emotional toll of displacement. Healing did not happen overnight. But community made the difference. “Adjusting to a new culture has not been easy, but the support from kind people, community groups, and friends has made it possible,” she reflects.Over the past year, Julie has taken steps toward reclaiming her future. She began college studies focused on caregiving, learning about empathy, compassion, and meeting both physical and emotional needs. “This program has not only given me new career opportunities but has also helped me heal,” she says. Each lesson became a reminder that care is transformative, especially for those who have endured harm.Strength, Pride, and the Power of BelongingWhen Julie reflects on the year behind her, two moments stand out. One was deeply personal: completing her first practicum and helping someone “regain confidence after illness.” The other was collective and joyful: marching in Toronto Pride and Edmonton Pride, “proudly carrying my flag among other newcomers.”“These moments taught me that I am stronger than I ever believed,” she says.For Julie, strength now means more than survival. “I discovered that strength is not just in survival but in rebuilding with purpose.” Balancing school, work, and the lingering weight of past trauma has not been easy, but it has shaped her into someone grounded in hope.What brings her joy today is something that once felt out of reach: community. “Dancing with friends, sharing meals, or helping someone in need fills me with gratitude,” she says. “In those moments, I feel the true meaning of safety — belonging without fear.”As a new year begins, Julie’s hopes are clear. She wants stability. She wants to complete her studies. And she wants to give back. “I want to use my education to advocate for vulnerable people, refugees, elders, and anyone who feels unseen, reminding them that healing and dignity go hand in hand.”Her message to those who made her journey possible is simple and powerful: “Your love and solidarity gave me back my future.” And to LGBTQI+ people still living under threat, her words carry both urgency and hope: “You are not alone. There is a world waiting for you. A world where you can live freely and be celebrated for exactly who you are.”Right now, LGBTQI+ people around the world are being criminalized, targeted, and forced to flee simply for being who they are. Julie’s journey was made possible because someone chose to act.As we begin this new year, you can help make safety, healing, and hope possible for others like Julie. Donate today to support LGBTQI+ people fleeing persecution and help them find a place where they can live freely, with dignity and pride.

“Today, safety means sleeping without fear of a knock on the door,” Steven says.

How Rainbow Railroad’s Crisis Response and Grassroots Mobilization Funds are empowering frontline organizations with funding assistance during a period of increased need.