By Lamin Bangura
On a humid evening in Freetown on the (insert date), police officers stormed a private birthday gathering after receiving a tip that “gay people” were meeting there. Eight people were arrested, none charged, all humiliated. For the next 24 hours, they were held in a cramped cell, mocked, and denied access to lawyers. One of the women detained remembers being told she needed to be “cleansed.”
Incidents like this rarely make the news, yet they are far from rare. Across Sierra Leone, LGBTQ people continue to live under constant threat, from police raids and community attacks to workplace harassment and public shaming. Under the Offences Against the Person Act of 1861, same-sex intimacy is still punishable by life imprisonment. Though prosecutions are uncommon, the law fuels fear and legitimizes persecution.
“This law has become a tool for abuse, allowing the police to act on suspicion and prejudice rather than evidence,” says Fatmata Jalloh, a lawyer with AdvocAid Sierra Leone. “It doesn’t just criminalize intimacy. It criminalizes existence.” A recent report by Rainbow Alliance Sierra Leone and Human Rights Watch found that in the past year alone, at least six police raids in Freetown, Bo, and Makeni have targeted people perceived to be LGBTQ. Survivors reported verbal abuse, physical violence, and demands for bribes before release.
For one woman caught in such a raid, the trauma didn’t end at the police station. After a private photo of her with her female partner was circulated in her community, she became a target of public ridicule and threats. Her name, Victoria, later surfaced in human rights documentation as one of several individuals persecuted under the guise of “morality enforcement.” Her case, like many others, exposed how personal privacy is weaponized in a climate of fear.
“Victoria’s experience mirrors what countless others endure but cannot speak about,” says a member of Dignity Association, a local group supporting survivors of abuse. “People lose their jobs, their homes, and their peace of mind, all for simply being who they are.”
At Purposeful, a feminist organization working closely with youth and human rights defenders, social workers describe the atmosphere as one of “polite hostility.”
“You’re tolerated in public spaces until someone decides to remind you that you don’t belong,” says one staff member. “That’s what discrimination looks like when it hides behind culture.”
The Human Rights Defenders Network Sierra Leone and the Centre for Accountability and Rule of Law (CARL) have both condemned these abuses, calling for the repeal of colonial-era laws that criminalize same-sex relationships. CARL noted in a recent statement that “justice cannot coexist with laws that make citizens unsafe for being themselves.” International institutions have also raised concern. The Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) has urged Sierra Leone to strengthen protections for marginalized groups and uphold commitments under the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. Yet progress is slow. Many survivors choose silence over safety, afraid that speaking out will only make them more vulnerable. Still, a quiet movement of lawyers, community advocates, and human rights organizations continues to push back, insisting that equality is not a Western idea because it’s a Sierra Leonean right.
As one activist summed it up:
“You can’t claim freedom while some people must live in hiding. True justice is when no one has to whisper who they are.”
