Dear Diary,
I thought coming to the UK would be safer. I thought I'd be free to be myself. I thought I wouldn't have to face discrimination and hate ever again. I was wrong.
I'm not any safer in this asylum, I can still feel judging eyes watching me constantly. The staff here isn't very nice. They think I can't understand English but I can understand them calling me a girl, even when I don't identify as one, I can understand them calling me slurs, I can understand them making fun of me.
When I first arrived with a couple of other refugees, they divided us up by gender. I told them I was non-binary but since I was assigned female at birth, they put me with everyone else who was assigned female at birth. I came here to not be discriminated against and the first thing that happens to me is an act of discrimination.
The other refugees looked at us with pity. I heard some of them say that we shouldn't have come here; that it wasn't safe here. One person had bruises and marks all over their body. Their clothes were all wrinkled and had tears in them. They looked like they hadn't slept in weeks and looked horrible. I've already begun questioning my decision to come here. A trans man told me that there was barely anything for us out here. Once they decide to let us go, we're left to fend for ourselves. He also told me that many people had left since they experienced assault. Apparently, many people died here too. I'm scared.
I left everything I had behind: my family, my friends, all of my memories. Everything has been left behind so that I could come here and be in safety and be myself. But the way it seems, I won't be able to do that here too. I miss home. I feel homesick and scared. I miss my mother. I wish she was here to tell me everything will be alright. But she's not; and I may never see her again.
It hurts, you know? The country I was once so proud to call home betrayed and hurt me. It forced me to leave for the fear of my life. It forced me to be somewhere alone and scared.
I want to go home, diary. I have no one here.
-- Venus
Dear Diary,
I feel horrible. I have never hated myself more than I have today.
I love Ava. She's given me all the love in the world and I love her so much. Then why can't I do such a small thing for her? All she wants is a child. That's all she's ever asked of me. Why can't I give her that one thing?
Today, I went to the adoption center to try and start expanding Ava's and my family. They told me since we were a same-sex couple, we legally cannot adopt a child. I feel both angry and hurt. The heterosexual couples are allowed to adopt, why can't we? Because we both are females in love? It's not fair.
I just want to make my wife happy and be happy with her and our child. What have we done wrong? Why are we being punished for loving each other? There's times like this I think that she would have been better off with a man. She could have had her own family the way she wanted with one.
Life in general would have been so much easier for her if she was married to a man. She has been declined from so many jobs simply because she married another woman; she gets mocked and made fun of on the streets while walking with me; when we're together, we get cat-called more frequently by the perverts that sexualise same-sex female marriages. We suffer so much just to be able to love each other.
It's simply not fair. Why us? Why do we suffer for loving while others don't? Why, diary? Why?
-- Jina
Dear Diary,
I had another nightmare. I dreamt that I was back home in Malaysia. It was horrifying, to say the least.
I remember how they caught me and him together. He was sobbing and screaming my name out of fear. He didn't want to get beat. He was scared but all I could do was watch. Everytime I tried protecting him, they hurt me. They forced me to watch as they stripped and whipped him. He was put in jail for 20 years, and after those 20 years, I never saw him again. Maybe he emigrated somewhere else like I did, maybe he's happy with a husband and kids now. I just hope he's okay.
They whipped me too. I still remember how they dragged me away from him and threw me on the floor. They beat me and called me names. They then whipped me until I was bleeding everywhere. Even today, the marks haunt me when I look at them in the mirror. I can still see the blood falling and feel the pain I felt while being whipped. They whipped me as much as they liked, and till this day, I'm not sure how many whips I received. They didn't give me any ointment or medical supplies to treat myself. They didn't care if I died or if my wounds got infected. In their eyes, I was just a worthless homosexual. They put me in jail for 20 years. I was only allowed out once, to attend the funeral of my mother. Getting permission to leave for that event was difficult, I didn't think I would have been able to go.
Once my time was over, it had been too late for me to go live my life properly. I was too old to find a spouse and the rumours of me being gay had spread around and no one wished to associate themselves with me. I knew what I had to do. I had to get to safety and a place I could love freely. I left everything behind and came here, to Canada. Coming here was a whole difficult process but I'm just glad I'm safe.
I can only pray that one day I'd be able to go home. At the end of the day, I just want to go home.
-- Azlan
