Transgender woman from Mzimba
* A survey called ‘Under Wraps’ conducted in 2019 estimated that over 186,000 individuals identified as gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or queer in Malawi at that time
* The number must have likely grown as more people come out despite stigma and legal risk
* The survey also revealed that nearly nine in every ten Malawians surveyed at that time described same-sex physical intimacy as “unnatural” and that they would attack an LGBTQI person
By Penelope Kamanga
At his young brother’s wedding, laughter and music had filled the air, but also one question had cut through it all: “Site, when are you getting married?” Relatives had chorused in a teasing unison, unaware of the sting behind their words.
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His parents, too, were worried that their 30-year-old son was “too serious with his books” or was he just simply just “too shy.” What they had not known was that Site carried a truth too heavy to speak aloud — he was gay.
Behind his polite smile lay a secret that could have shattered his world — a truth he had feared might cost him not only the love of his family but also his safety and freedom.
“If I tell them, they would think I am cursed,” Site said softly. “I know for sure they would rather disown me than accept me. So, I just keep quiet and pretend all is well.”
In Lilongwe, a 19-year-old student nicknamed ‘The Natty’, is in a similar situation. Her mother boasts to friends that her daughter “doesn’t do boys” and assumes she is simply focused on her education. What her mother does not know is that ‘the Natty’ is a lesbian.
“I can’t even tell my closest friend. What if she tells the whole school? It would destroy me,” ‘the Natty’ says. “My parents are staunch Christians. They will never forgive me. It would kill them if they found out that am gay and I don’t want them to die I love them too much.”
To her family, her discipline is a source of pride. To herself it is a shield that hides her true self.
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Others navigate even more complex realities. Solo (not his real name), 35, is married with one child, but he is secretly a bisexual: “I love my wife, but I also have feelings for men,” he says.
“I can’t talk about this with anyone. If she found out, it would break her. If society found out, I’d be finished. So, I live two lives — one for the world, and one in my heart,” he explains.
For, a 22-year-old transgender woman fondly called Tatha by her friends, the struggle is different — she has been turned away from job interviews simply because of how she looks.
“People look at me like I’m a joke,” she says. “I just want to work and live like everyone else. But the moment they see me, they laugh or whisper — it hurts.”
Site’s, Nattys, Solo’s and Tatha’s stories are not unique. Across Malawi, many lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQI+) people live double lives — outwardly conforming to social and religious expectations, while silently carrying the weight of who they really are.
A survey called Under Wraps conducted in 2019 estimated that over 186,000 individuals identified as gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or queer in Malawi at that time. The number must have likely grown as more people come out despite stigma and legal risk.
The survey also revealed that nearly nine in every 10 Malawians surveyed at that time described same-sex physical intimacy as “unnatural” and that they would attack an LGBTQI person.
In the survey, it stated that widespread negative attitudes made LGBTQI+ individuals to feel unsafe hence the hiding. The fear is also reinforced by Section 153 of the Malawi Penal Code, which criminalises same-sex intimacy with penalties of up to 14 years in prison.
Combined with social stigma, family rejection, harassment in public spaces, and the risk of police abuse, this hostile environment forces many LGBTQI+ Malawians to live in the shadows — concealing their identities, avoiding certain places, shunning public displays of affection, and even choosing silence rather than reporting abuse.
Healthcare, which should be a refuge, is often another site of exclusion: “Some colleagues laugh when they suspect someone is gay. That stigma is deadly,” admits a Blantyre-based nurse, who asked not to be named.
“We are supposed to treat everyone, but training on how to handle key populations is very limited.”
UNAIDS has repeatedly warned that criminalisation and stigma hinder efforts to combat HIV/AIDS. In Malawi, key populations — including men who have sex with men — face higher risks but lower access to services.
Religion also plays a central role. Malawi is a deeply religious nation, where both Christianity and Islam strongly influence social norms. Rev. Banda, a pastor in Lilongwe, reflects this tension: “The Bible is clear that marriage is between a man and a woman.”
He added that this idea of men marrying men or women marrying women is ungodly and against God’s creation: “As a church, we cannot support practices that go against the Word of God. When a nation accepts such sins, it invites God’s judgment.
“We must stand firm in protecting our children and our society from what the world is trying to normalise,” he firmly stated.
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Commenting on what they would do if a person from the LGBTQI+ community came to their church, Rev. Banda said they would not chase them away: “The church is open to everyone, but we cannot affirm sin.
“We would pray with them, counsel them, and encourage them to repent and turn back to God’s design for their life. They are welcome to sit in the congregation, but they cannot take up leadership or continue in those practices while claiming to follow Christ,” he said.
But Rev. Cliff Nyekanyeka said if his child or a trusted church member came out as gay, he would accept that person and would neither take a whip nor throw a stone at them.
“I would first recognise the image of God in that person. Because that image of God demands respect, I would walk with that person to understand and support them,” he said. “The first step is to seek understanding.”
He added that God loves sinners because He desires their repentance: “If God did not care about our unworthiness, then Jesus Christ would not have come.The fact that they are a minority does not make them non-existent.”
But many LGBTQI Malawians say “love without acceptance” still leaves them unsafe, with Site saying: “I believe in God too — but my church teaches me that people like me are an abomination. Sometimes I pray and ask God why He made me this way,” Site whispers.
Despite the stigma, small circles of support exist. Organisations such as CEDEP and the Nyasa Rainbow Alliance provide safe spaces, counselling, and HIV services for LGBTQI+ people.
Christopher Kukada, a human rights activist, argues that silence only worsens the problem: “We cannot build a healthy Malawi if we continue to exclude entire groups of people. Health, dignity, and love are human rights — not privileges for a few.”
In private, WhatsApp groups and underground networks serve as lifelines. The Natty says she draws hope from these spaces: “At least online, I can talk to people who understand me. It makes me feel less alone.”
For Site, The Natty, Chimwemwe, Tadala, and many others, living in the shadows is not a choice — it is a survival strategy. But even in secrecy, they hold on to hope.
“One day,” says Tadala, “I want to walk freely in the streets of Malawi without hiding who I am. Just like everyone else.”
Until that day comes, LGBTQI Malawians will continue to navigate a society where silence offers protection, but at the cost of truth. In the shadows, their resilience is remarkable. Yet, like all human beings, they long for the light.
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