Some people may find the topics discussed in this article triggering. This article reflects people’s stories and the hardships they have faced. If you are an LGBTQI+ person seeking asylum and would like to access emotional support, please contact us.
“I know people are still facing lots of the challenges I faced” – The first LGBTQI+ person granted refugee status in the UK shares his story.
Warren, a gay man from Malaysia, came to the UK to study in 1990. After the government and his family found out that he was gay, it was too dangerous for him to go back. In 2000, he made history as the first LGBTQI+ person to be granted refugee status in the UK based on the grounds of sexual orientation.
Could you tell us a little bit about yourself and how you came to live in the UK?
I first came to the UK from Malaysia in September 1990, on a scholarship from the Malaysian government. In 1992, at university I met another Malaysian LGBT person for the first time. I was so excited, I told him everything about myself, including that I lived with my boyfriend at the time. A week later, I received a letter from the Malaysian government saying that someone told them I was gay and had converted to Christianity. My parents received the same letter, and my mother kept calling to ask if it was true. I denied it, changed my number, and went into hiding when my scholarship was revoked.
The Malaysian government interrogated me at their embassy. I thought it was frowned upon to be LGBT, but didn’t know there was a prison sentence. When you’re growing up, you don’t think about these things, you just are yourself and get on with life. I denied everything to keep my scholarship, but they still revoked it. I had no financial support and relied on my boyfriend at the time. When we broke up, I was alone in Edinburgh. A friend suggested I apply for asylum in 1994.
“I’m living proof that one day, things will get better.”
When you applied for asylum, there was no precedent for people being granted refugee status on the basis of being LGBTQI+ in the UK. What was that process like for you, and did you have any support?
The first organisation I went to for help was The Scottish Refugee Council, but they didn’t know much about LGBTQI+ asylum seekers because they were unheard of at the time. I had no financial assistance and often slept on friends’ couches or was homeless. A friend suggested I contact Stonewall Immigration Group (now Rainbow Migration). At that time, the main focus of the group was to make it possible for lesbian, gay and bisexual partners of British citizens to remain in the UK. I was the only person trying to apply for asylum by myself. They helped me find a lawyer, Wesley Gryk.
At the time, UK immigration law did not recognise LGBTQI+ asylum seekers. Wesley wrote to the Home Office, but they rejected my case, citing the UN definition of refugees. Finally, in 1999, a House of Lords ruling recognised LGBTQI+ people as belonging to a particular social group and therefore falling under the Refugee Convention. I waited for five years, unable to work, or study, I couldn’t do anything. And I was living on £30 a week in terrible conditions. The house I lived in was infested with rats, and I often went hungry. It sometimes got to the point of desperation; you just don’t know where to turn for help and sometimes you feel like you just want to give up. You get depressed, and you just don’t have any hopes anymore. I felt like I was not worth being here anymore. I tried to end my life a couple of times, but luckily, I was not successful. In June 2000, I was granted refugee status. When Wesley told me, I felt human again – whole again. Suddenly, you’re not in limbo anymore. The main purpose of me sharing my story is to help those who are currently going through the process, as I know people are still facing lots of the challenges I faced. In the end, you can rebuild your life and there is hope. I’m living proof that one day, things will get better. I just want to give people hope that it’s not the end of everything.
The asylum system is still incredibly difficult, especially for LGBTQI+ people, with requirements to “prove” your sexual orientation or gender identity, long and uncertain waiting times, and very little financial support. In your opinion and experience, why should things be different?
Although support is now easier to find thanks to the internet, the challenges remain or have worsened. I know how people feel because currently I’m helping LGBT refugees.
The process should be kinder and treat people more humanely. They have to think about what it does to your mental health, especially when you’re waiting, not knowing what to do.
The required forms are difficult, even for native English speakers. Imagine you just arrived, and you have to jump through all these hoops. Especially for LGBT people, coming from countries where it’s illegal to be LGBT. Some of them ended up in prison or got harassed or violently attacked. They come here, hoping for empathy or sympathy, or that someone’s going to help them, but all they got is more hostile treatment and face more adversity, especially from the government. This barrier is deliberately done to make life as difficult as possible, which shouldn’t be like that. I feel the pain, because I’ve gone through it and in the process of helping others, I get frustrated and angry for them. Sitting there, listening to the story and seeing them cry is just heartbreaking.
“We need more kindness and compassion instead of hostility.”
This LGBTHM, the theme is activism and social change. What steps need to be taken to improve the lives of LGBTQI+ people seeking asylum?
We need more kindness and compassion instead of hostility, and to listen to people seeking safety here. Not being able to work was very frustrating, and that needs to be changed. Sitting in a hotel room for 15 months and being fed, and that being the extent of your socialising is very hard and damaging.
The other frustration that I feel for people that I help, especially for trans asylum seekers, is the Home Office not allowing them to immediately change their name and gender marker. It causes gender dysphoria and puts them at risk of transphobia.
The media should stop sensationalizing and dehumanising refugees, painting everyone coming here for asylum as if we’re all the same. We are all individuals.
I help asylum seekers because I know how hard it is. Even something as simple as sharing a meal makes a difference. For many, buying food means sacrificing half their weekly support. If I can help one person, I’ve done my job.