When I was growing up, cellphones and the internet weren’t widespread, so the extreme “kill them” messages weren’t as common. Phones only became a big thing when I was in 7th grade, which meant I didn’t come across much hate speech. In high school, friends would throw around “are you that thing?”, meaning “gay”, when we argued. But it was just teasing, not coming from actual hatred.
There was a book I read called Chronicles of Addis Ababa, and it mentioned queer people. This was before I even understood what queerness was, let alone recognised it in myself. I once heard an Orthodox preacher talk about queer people he had met in Addis Ababa, but I didn’t connect any of it to my life because I didn’t think I was one of them. There were also people insisting that queerness was the work of the Illuminati.
I can’t fully remember my childhood; it’s been more than twenty years, but I know it felt quiet and restrained. I wasn’t the kind of kid who played with other children. I didn’t enjoy the physical games other boys were drawn to. I always wanted to stay clean, my clothes never got dirty, and I preferred being at home. Most of my friends were girls. I don’t remember many specific moments from that time, and as a teenager I convinced myself that the way I looked at boys was admiration rather than attraction. I didn’t understand much about myself then. I had questions, why seeing boys made me feel happy, why the admiration felt so intense, but I never tried to answer them.
When I joined university, I met someone who had feelings for me, and we started dating in my first year. He wasn’t in university; he was the one who initiated everything. To this day, I’m still surprised by how confident he was. He just said, “Hey cutie, you’re beautiful,” right there on the street. Considering the country’s climate, it was unbelievable. He was also the first person to tell me about Facebook and other social media platforms. Now that I’m older, I realise that the feelings I had for him pushed me to question myself.
After we broke up, I met another guy, again, not online. He taught me how to create a fake account and exist as a queer person on the internet. Before that, I knew people like me existed somewhere in the world, but I wasn’t sure if there were others here. I used to think I was the only one. Meeting other queer Ethiopians helped me understand that I wasn’t alone.
After the first guy, I went through a period of deep self-hatred and internalised homophobia, the kind so many of us experience. None of the religions accepted people like me, and neither did society, so I started hating my identity. I regretted it constantly and wished God would change me. After meeting the second guy and discovering the queer community, I realised I wasn’t alone. That made accepting myself much easier. I researched more, tried to understand my queerness, and slowly things began to make sense. I have been on Facebook for about ten years now, and every time I met another queer person, I felt seen. I talked to a few people casually, it didn’t lead to anything serious, but it helped me understand that my experiences weren’t unique. There were others like me, people with similar interests, fears, and hopes. Social media helped me talk to people, make meaningful friendships, and find my community. I even found queer activists whose work helped me understand myself and the community better.
On Facebook, I talk to people, read educational posts, make friends, and join discussions with people who think like I do. I used to share cropped photos of myself and other posts for self-expression. I’m not as active now, but I still use it to get information about gatherings with people I know, at least from the time when queer events were more common. I prioritise my safety, so I’m cautious. Beyond that, I try to educate myself on health-related topics, something I did even before I realised, I was queer. I also take my mental health seriously, so I avoid unnecessary online drama that might add stress.
After meeting someone through social media or dating apps, the actual dating part begins, and this is where the real caution comes in. We have to understand timing, location, and the safety of every situation. If the only open seats at a restaurant are in the couples’ section, even if the waiters encourage us to sit there, I refuse. We have to put to consideration the country we live in and protect ourselves from danger. There are people who genuinely believe we should be killed for simply being who we are, so hiding becomes a form of self-protection, from what we wear to how act.
My first date was simple. We met and went for a walk. We couldn’t hold hands because we have to hide our relationships in ways straight couples never do. Even hugging makes us anxious because it feels like everyone is watching. The system works for straight couples; they are backed by religion and society, so they have nothing to fear when they go out. That’s why on my first date; we didn’t do anything besides talk. To this day, I only feel comfortable being fully myself indoors. Even ordering wine at a club feels risky because you can never be sure how people will react, and that is scary.
This constant need to hide is the main reason dating as a queer person is so difficult. Until you are in a safe place where you can completely be yourself, every step requires caution. Love is a good thing. Even with the issues within our own community, even when it gets complicated, love is still a good thing. No one deserves to be alone, so no one should stand in the way of people finding someone to share their life with and loving them.
Most of my relationships are usually only centered around sex and they are very similar, so I don’t really have anything exciting and interesting. When I was a student, I met up with a guy, and I told him that I can’t afford anything. I was thinking that if I told him upfront and explained my situation then he wouldn’t think that I am after his money. If it doesn’t hurt either of us and if he agrees, we could date and we could even go on a vacation outside town. We booked a room and then he told me he would come back and left. I thought it was a pay first and spend the night scheme, turns out he actually had left without paying. When I was trying to leave, I got into trouble with the hotel staff. I told them that he is my brother, and I don’t know what happened to him. I had no money to pay for the room, and eventually they let me go when they realised that he is not coming back. Surprisingly, I met him at an event years later and he apologised.
Living alone gives us freedom, but we should not go out of control just because we have freedom. We should still be careful whenever we decide to come out to people. We have to make sure that the friends we invite over are ones that care about our safety. We have to make sure that our neighbours are safe enough for us to be loud in our homes. Our safety is in our hands, just because we have moved out does not mean we should stop thinking about it or else we will end up in dangerous situations. We must make sure that people who might barge into our homes are people we trust and whether our neighbours are nosy or not. If you are careful, living alone is a very a great experience. It lets you be yourself truly and meet up with friends. You can do whatever you want when you live alone. I am able to wear heels at home, invite friends over, cook and have fun together and get the type of happiness that I cannot get elsewhere.
When you compare the western world to this country, the difference is staggering. There, they believe that it is possible to get married and have a family as a gay person. Here, 90% of queer people are struggling just to accept themselves and deal with their feelings, yet most only end up managing their sexual urges. No one is really thinking about their future. There is a lack of awareness and people don’t take the time to learn, and this mentality bleeds into the queer community as well. There are people within our community who don’t seem to understand other queer people or even themselves. I can only remember this; I don’t have exciting experiences.
I am a crossdresser. When we used to have private queer events, my friends and I would dress up how we want. Now, there are no such events, and the situation is not safe, so I prioritize my safety. The clothes I wear may not be the ones I want to wear, but I don’t want to put myself in danger. Sometimes even when I am dating someone, they might not understand my queerness and expression. Not everyone has the ability or resources to understand things in the same manner. So, it can be different how I express myself in front of different people. Sometimes trying to make someone understand your identity and expression just makes things complicated. So, if he is willing, I prefer to do it bit by bit. It depends on the person’s understanding. There is so much ignorance about my identity within our community, let alone the heterosexual community.
It is definitely getting better, but the community still largely fails to respect pronouns. People will say “why use ‘she/her’ pronouns when you’re a man?” I don’t care much about pronouns, but I prefer ‘she/her’ pronouns. This does not usually have a good reception, however. Not being able to express myself as a crossdresser is very difficult for me, especially having to wear “men’s” clothes instead of “women’s” clothes is like hiding yourself. But I am not ashamed of having to hide. When you mature enough, you understand that you choose your battles and choosing how much of our queer identity we show or which parts of the community hurt us, is something we control. Yes, it is extremely hard, but survival comes first. Maybe in 200 years, queer people will be able to live freely. Definitely, they will!
In the past, the view people had on fem-presenting men was horrible.
Even for the role I had in the queer community, I faced same prejudices. The views were also extremely negative towards trans and non-binary people. There were people who proudly exclaimed that they hate fem guys and that we are disgusting. Now they at least say they are simply not interested in dating us. That shift is happening because people now have many ways to educate themselves, and a lot of work is being done to spread awareness.
Progress is not something to be gained in a fortnight, but it will come gradually. It’s painful, but it is happening, slowly, but happening. Non-binary people are still rarely understood, acknowledged, and often left feeling invisible. Even with all these problems, accepting it as is gives a kind of peace. I’m not saying we should surrender to our problems, but we do need to focus on how to navigate them.
There are not many places where you can fully be yourself. There are very few people who would accept your identity if you told them. But we shouldn’t let that destroy our mental health. We don’t need acceptance from everyone. It even took me time to accept myself. So, we should keep fighting, keep spreading awareness about our identities, but also learn to accept and live within the reality we have now.
It took me a long time to understand my non-binary identity after accepting that I am queer. Knowing yourself is one of the best things ever. Understanding how I want to express myself has also helped me figure out who to date in order to preserve my mental health.
Not everyone is fully supportive, and not everyone has the ability to understand our identities. That’s why it’s important to choose open-minded people to spend time with. To reduce mental distress, I’ve learned to step away from spaces that don’t accept or recognise me. It has helped me avoid places where I would otherwise hide myself and feel invisible.
Fully understanding our identity gives us the ability to lead a better life.