A cold morning, a warm space, and big queer dreams

Let me start by saying: global warming is real, but sometimes it feels like it has a twisted sense of humor. One day, it’s blazing hot, and the next, it’s so cold you’re convinced someone hit the "winter" button. This particular morning? Freezing. As a petite human (seriously, I thought Nyandarua weather would toughen me up…but in hindsight was I expecting to grow fur?), I was bundled up in a jacket so big it swallowed me whole. Picture a human-sized teddy bear. That was me. But hey, I was warm, and that’s what mattered.

I was heading to a seminar by Katiba Institute. What was it about? At that point, I wasn’t entirely sure. But I was positive. Nervous, sure. Cold? Absolutely. But positive nonetheless.

The Blessing (and Curse) of Familiar Faces

When I got there, I spotted at least one familiar face—a little beacon of comfort. Now, if you’re queer in Kenya, you know how this goes. Seeing people you know can be both a blessing and a curse. In a supportive space like this one? It’s a blessing. But run into someone at, say, an event after a messy breakup? That’s a whole different vibe. You get me.

After breakfast (shoutout to whoever planned that spread), the sessions began, and I was immediately thrown into a river of knowledge about the issues we face as a community.

The Weight of Hate

Let’s take a moment to talk about one thing that hit hard: how religion has been weaponized against us. This isn’t news. But seeing how far it’s gone? Heartbreaking. They don’t just teach adults to hate—they’re teaching children to champion violence, using language like “wa chinjwe” ("they should be slaughtered").

Let’s pause. If you’re a Criminal Minds fan, you know how the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) studies serial killers. Part of their work involves understanding how killers dehumanize their victims to justify their actions. They stop seeing their victims as people.

Now, think about this in our context. As queer individuals, we’re often stripped of our humanity—labeled as "sin" rather than seen as people. This dehumanization makes it easier for others to justify hate, harm, or even violence against us. And the worst part? This dehumanization is fueled by religious leaders and politicians—people with influence and power.

A Moment to Breathe (and Eat)

I know, it’s heavy. So let’s take a breather. Lunch was amazing, and I have to share this hack: if you bite into a pineapple and it’s bitter, sprinkle a little salt. Trust me, it’s a game-changer. You’re welcome.

Learning the Law, Finding Solutions

The Katiba Institute seminar wasn’t just about highlighting the challenges. They broke down laws like the Linda Jamii Bill (please Google it—it’s worth your time) and others that aim to make queer existence not just a “sin” but a legal offense.

But the point of the day wasn’t to retraumatize us. It was about solutions. Fear and ignorance lose their power when we choose to learn and grow. This seminar was about dreaming big—about imagining and working towards a world where queer people are not just visible but powerful.

What if we were politicians, CEOs, or lawmakers? What if we were in the rooms where decisions are made? That’s what Katiba Institute dared to dream of, and that’s why we were there.

Leaving Less Scared, More Hopeful

By the end of the day, I was less scared to be queer. Because in that room, I saw people dedicating their weekday—a whole weekday—to fighting for a brighter, more colorful future for our community.

This seminar reminded me that we’re not just surviving; we’re actively building something better. And that dream? It’s worth every cold morning, every oversized jacket, and every step forward. 🌈