The North American non-profit Rainbow Railroad has helped more than 13,000 LGBTQ+ individuals escape state-sanctioned homophobia and transphobia in their home countries since its founding in 2006. Latoya Nugent was one such refugee. In 2022, Nugent, now the organization’s Head of Engagement, claimed asylum from Jamaica into Canada.

On the heels of Rainbow Railroad’s new campaign, The Time Is Always Now, which launched on November 1, Nugent spoke to Autostraddle about the increase in persecution and displacement for LGBTQ+ people globally, the discriminatory laws passing even in the usual safe havens of the US and Canada, and her own story of rebirth as an openly queer woman.

This interview has been condensed for clarity.

Gabe: So how did you find out about Rainbow Railroad and about gaining asylum?

Latoya: I knew of the organization in a very peripheral way because of the kind of work I was involved in. I was a human rights defender back in Jamaica, and so a part of the work that I would do at the time was actually helping to support folks who were experiencing violence and discrimination in Jamaica who reached out to me for support.

And a part of that support required that there was an organization on the ground that would provide a kind of general context about what was happening in Jamaica and why a particular individual would need to flee. But I didn’t know a lot about the asylum process or anything like that. It wasn’t until after I attended a conference in Barbados in 2022. I was listening to a panel discussion on queer identity and forced displacement and how queer individuals could seek refuge in other countries, including countries like Canada.

There was an individual who worked at the organization at the time who was a part of that panel and also had the experience of displacement because of their sexual orientation and gender identity. It was really a very moving experience for me because I was going through a lot at the time and I wasn’t willing to really talk about it or come to terms with it. And just listening to the experiences that were shared by the panelists, I recognized that there was a safe way out. I decided that I would try to access this pathway not knowing even after listening to that discussion exactly what would be required of me, but deciding that I would make that first step and reach out. It was a very involved and intense, perhaps complex, process, but I’m very happy that I took that decision and I’ve been living in Canada since and I think it’s perhaps the best decision that I’ve made in my adult life.

Gabe: When did you realize that you were queer and that Jamaica was not going to be a safe place for you?

Latoya: That’s a complicated question for me. I realized long ago that Jamaica was not a safe place for me to be as a queer woman, but I was so committed to changing the culture, to changing the laws that criminalized LGBTQ+ people and changing the cultural attitudes of the society towards LGBTQ+ people.

I did not have queer language in my early years because I grew up in a very conservative family, quite religious. I was religious myself when I was younger and I was growing up in a homophobic society, but not having the language of even homophobia. That word was not a part of my vocabulary as a younger person. But I always felt a weight in the company of women, let’s put it that way. And so whatever difference I felt, I found a way to suppress it. It didn’t feel to me as if this is how God wanted me to be.

It wasn’t until I went to university and had the most beautiful experience, which I also had to deny at the time because I was very fearful of what it would cause if people knew how I felt about women. And the reason I say I knew from a very, very long time that Jamaica was not safe for queer people was because during my undergraduate years in Jamaica, as I was pursuing my first degree, I had the most visceral reaction from people who were in my study year, people who were going to the university with me at the same time. There was a suspicion on campus that I was queer-identified or that I was in a relationship with another woman, which was devastating for me because while I was exploring this, I was doing it secretly.

I knew that it was not safe because of the culture, the music, the homophobic slurs that would be heard. The warden who was in charge of student services and development at the time, who had responsibility for the residence where I was living, called me into a meeting and asked me to leave the residence.

There’s a lot of sexual harassment that you experience when people believe that you are a part of the queer community. I was fearful that I was placing myself in danger. That was my thinking at the time that I was the one placing myself in danger because of this identity. And fast forward several years later, having gone through several years of living in Jamaica, navigating homophobia in all its forms, I found advocacy and activism, and found some amount of healing in that kind of work. But then with that came perhaps the highest price that I’ve had to pay since coming to terms with that identity, which was my freedom.

Gabe: Because you were arrested for your activism.

Latoya: And after that arrest [in 2017], everything changed for me. I became very silent. I have sometimes said to folks that there was something about the violence of that arrest that silenced me. And I know that was the intention. As activists sometimes we don’t want to talk about that kind of impact, but that really was the impact it had on me. It silenced me for several years. I began to dislike this kind of work. I didn’t want to do any work with the community at all because I felt as if it cost me my dignity, it cost me my freedom. And it’s almost as if for years I put myself on the frontline and at the end of the day, you are on your own.

The community may want to help you, the community may want to support you, and they try to do that in several ways, but at the end of the day, you really have to fight certain battles on your own. And so I felt that the visibility, the work I was doing with the community, for the community and for myself just came at too high a price which I paid. I really just gave up on life and became very hopeless. I was very depressed. I had stopped living, really.

So when I finally felt brave enough to make that decision in 2022 to relocate with Railroad’s assistance, it felt as if it was the universe’s way of saying to me, you can start life again, and this is how you start life again. Was I expecting any of this? Perhaps not.

I recall when I arrived in Canada, there were a couple of people from the organization who were at the airport waiting. And I did a video just talking about how I was feeling in the moment. There was something so liberatory about that for me because it was the first time in several years that I was willing to publicly talk about anything at all to do with my queer identity or with the work of queer liberation. I didn’t realize it until after I was done doing the interview, just how liberatory it felt. I had stopped believing, I had stopped being hopeful. And so in that moment, it just felt as if I really do have a second chance at life.

Gabe: That’s really beautiful and well put and complicated. Is there also a feeling of, “Okay, I am leaving. I’m doing all this activist work. I can continue this work from Canada,” but also you’re acutely aware that there is a community in Jamaica that is still struggling?

Latoya: So having left Jamaica in the moment when I left, I did not feel guilty for leaving because I felt like I needed to prioritize my wellbeing. Having left and now living here for a little over two years, the guilt is starting to seep in because I was able to escape that.

I was able to escape what I know is the reality on the ground in Jamaica and I think because Jamaica, the government and the private sector, do such a good job of marketing from a tourist perspective, many people are not as aware of the kind of underbelly of homophobia and what it’s doing to an entire community in the country. Because a lot of times when people are either murdered or you’re homeless or jobless or they’re attacked, or queer women are raped and sexually assaulted, a lot of that, unless you are in the civil society kind of activist space, you may not be aware that all of that is happening in Jamaica because the public profile of Jamaica is this tourist Mecca and reggae and all of the cultural pieces that are celebrated globally.

Gabe: What are we in the States not understanding about what’s illegal in Jamaica? What laws are there and how are they influencing daily life?

Latoya: A lot of what is happening culturally is as a result of what is on the books legally. And so legally in Jamaica right now, same sex intimacy is criminalized. You can go to prison for up to 10 years if you are found to be guilty of same sex intimacy. And I’m talking about consensual same sex intimacy. The law does not distinguish that.

Another piece too is the way that marriage is designed in Jamaica prevents many queer and trans people from accessing the same rights as other Jamaicans because some of these rights and privileges that Jamaicans have are tied to or connected to their marital status.

Jamaica is often described as a very conservative society, and that is primarily because of the role that religion has historically played in shaping culture. Religion in Jamaica is a force to be reckoned with.

Although there is technically a separation of church and state in Jamaica, the church is extremely powerful, and is also politically powerful and has significant influence over our political leaders or policy makers and our lawmakers. So if you look at the way rape is defined, for example, it restricts who can be charged for the crime of rape or it restricts what can be categorized as rape. Another critical piece is how it prevents people in same sex relationships from accessing the same kinds of protection that other folks have access to under the Domestic Violence Act.

It is covert, if you will, it’s not as well known or well documented with the exception of cases where people within the community have been murdered, for example, or they have been attacked and it has become very well known in the news. So it creates the impression that there are some isolated events or isolated actions, but that isn’t actually the reality on the ground. There are people who live in fear every single day. There are people who’ve been homeless for a very long time, there are people who are discriminated against at their place of work, and even kids are bullied if they’re perceived to be queer and or trans. It’s more difficult when the state is against you.

And it doesn’t mean that you can’t find ways to survive in Jamaica. I did it for several years. I know many people who tried to find ways to carve out safe spaces and create community for each other. But it’s not sustainable and it’s extremely costly and it’s something you can access almost only from a place of privilege. Many people do not have the financial resources to be able to carve out those safe spaces where they can survive and where they can create community. And when you think of the intersection of poverty, for example, that just doubles and complicates the kind of experience that you would have in a place like Jamaica.

Gabe: Would you say that people shouldn’t go there on vacation?

Latoya: That’s complex. For one, there are many queer people who work in the tourism industry in Jamaica. And the other thing is, there’s a different Jamaica that you experience when you stay at an all inclusive resort. It’s not the “everyday Jamaica.” So there may be incidents of homophobia that you experience as a queer person visiting Jamaica, but it is not as likely if you go to the all-inclusive hotels because the staff there, the policies there, and the principles there are different from what exists in the Jamaican society.

As a matter of fact, it is something that some queer people who have the resources do so, do to escape the everyday homophobia that exists in the country. Some resorts actually almost act as a temporary place of refuge because people are treated a little bit differently at some of these hotels and some of them are even branded as being inclusive of the community. So it’s a complicated question to attempt to answer for those two reasons. One, lots of queer people work in the tourist industry and benefit from equal opportunity employment in the tourism industry. And two, especially as far as the all-inclusive results are concerned, we don’t typically experience the homophobia that exists in the wider society.

Gabe: What is the process of getting asylum for being queer? You mentioned it’s complicated.

Latoya: We provide multiple pathways for people to be able to relocate, including two critical pathways. One is what we call emergency travel support. This is where we assist someone to get to the border of another country and make an asylum claim in that country. And the asylum claim that you make in that country is usually with the intention and with the hope of permanently resettling in that country because it is not safe for you to live in your home country. You’re fleeing persecution from your home country and you are going to the border of another country.

Gabe: Do you have to have something pending against you? Do you have to say, “here’s proof I’m queer, here’s proof of an arrest?”

Latoya: Yes. Either that something happened to you or you are fearful of something happening to you. Or both, but you have to provide evidence to demonstrate why you are in danger and the evidence that you provide is in the form of police reports, hospital reports, letters of support from queer organizations that are familiar with your work, your story, letters of support from family members, a partner if you have a partner. You could also have to document the story of your life to show that because of your sexual orientation and/or your gender identity, you were in danger or you believe that you will be in danger if you continue to live in your home country. And in documenting the story of your life, you are showing through this narrative that it is not safe for you to live in your home country anymore.

You need evidence to back up your claim because the system starts by not believing you. That’s why you need all of this evidence. The system is not taking you at your word. The system requires you to back up, to support, to provide evidentiary support of the claims that you are making. It may sound simple in this conversation we are having, but to actually do all of that takes a considerable amount of time and you have no choice but to place yourself at risk to access that. Because if you think about it, especially for people who are not out, they may have to out themselves in some instances in order to get this proof that the US government needs or they may have to share sometimes very private and intimate experiences as part of proving why they need the US government to support them.

It takes a very long time. The asylum system is backed up. Lots of people are awaiting the opportunity to actually submit the claim. And after you submit your claim, you then have to gather all of this evidence and you have a hearing and there’s a lot of prep that has to go into the hearing because the hearings are intimidating. It feels very lonely and traumatizing because a part of proving why you need refuge in the US, for example, is also reliving and reopening wounds, almost reliving the trauma you’ve experienced in your home country as part of the process of proving to the US government that listen, I cannot live in my home country anymore.

We also have, through a partnership with the US government, a refugee resettlement program where Americans get to volunteer their time and their skill to sponsor a refugee. And because we are participating in this national program, it’s an added opportunity for queer refugees to access a safe resettlement pathway. So when someone goes to the border to make an asylum claim, it’s not always safe whether it’s a land border or they travel by air because you don’t know what will happen at the border.

You can make a claim, but there is no guarantee that this claim will be accepted through the refugee resettlement pathway. Through that partnership that we have with the US government, what happens is that there’s a way for asylum claims to be processed overseas before you actually set foot in the US. It’s also an equally long processing time.

Gabe: On top of the pain of leaving your family, leaving your friends, and that you can’t go back.

Latoya: Yes. The benefit is that when you arrive in the US you will be supported by a group of queer [people] and allies of the queer community. And because it’s a government program, part of what happens is that there is a particular structure that’s placed on ensuring that the core services and support that you need as a refugee will be provided. There is some funding that is provided for these sponsors to enable them to assist the refugees after they relocate, so they’re set up for success. There’s assistance with housing, employment, for those who may need to learn English as a second language or to access other educational opportunities and so on. And just being in queer community, especially for queer refugees, is so important. So there is also that kind of program that’s available for folks. But regardless of the pathway that someone is able to access, they’re all long, they’re all complicated and all very retraumatizing at different stages of the process.

But the other side of it, they feel very hopeful because yes, you almost have to relive this trauma, but it’s creating an opportunity for you to reclaim your life. In the end, the kind of hopelessness that many people may experience in their home country, they find that when they’re able to access a resettlement pathway or a relocation pathway, then they start to feel a little bit more hopeful even despite the difficulty or the complexity that’s embedded in the process

Gabe: It must be healing at a certain point too.

Latoya: Yes.

Gabe: Is this mostly focused on relocating to the US and Canada?

Latoya: Yes and several countries in Europe and a couple countries in South America, but most of the people that we’ve supported over the years have relocated to Canada. And then we have countries in Europe such as Spain, France, Germany, and the Netherlands.

Gabe: How has it been watching the different anti-trans or anti-queer legislation popping up in places like the US? How does that feel as someone who came to North America as a refugee?

Latoya: So that was something that surprised me because some of what I see happening in certain states in the US, it’s so familiar. After my equality work and all of the activism that has gone into ensuring that the US is an affirming place for queer and trans people, I never imagined that in 2024 we would be seeing that kind of legislation being advanced against the community.

The thing I’m hopeful about though is that the community is pushing back hard. And what that tells me is that across the United States, there is widespread support for the rights of people and that the community and allies of the community are fully activated and pushing back against the hundreds of legislations that keep popping up in different states that are attempting to strip people within the community of their rights.

It does add an interesting tension to our work at Rainbow Railroad because every year we collect a data report about the number of people who reach out to us for help and the countries and regions where they come from. And since 2022, after that Roe v. Wade decision, we’ve noticed that the queer people in the US are increasingly scared of living in certain parts of the US. We started to see a trend emerge where people inside the United States were reaching out to us saying, “I want to move to another part of the US” or “I want to relocate to Canada.” And that wasn’t happening before. So that is a tension that we hold because when we talk with refugees overseas or when we talk with people who are at risk in their home countries, the US and Canada remain two of the top countries where people want to relocate, even though they are aware that there are some parts of Canada where we are seeing this anti-trans rhetoric and movement emerge, and we are seeing it in some states inside the US.

But the thing I realized is that there are far more affirming cities and states in the US. Because of the galvanizing support that we are seeing across the community and the pushback, it still represents a place of hope for many people who are fleeing for their lives. And with the welcome program that we have with the United States where they’re helping to relocate and welcome refugees, we have identified the cities that are affirming for the queer and trans community, and people are thriving in those places. So I think the US is just emerging as this very interesting and complex place for us, but again, feeling very hopeful because of the pushback and the fact that some of these proposed policies and legislations have really died because the community has pushed back like we have.

Gabe: It’s hard because people want to stay too. They say, “Why don’t you just stay and fight?” But it’s just as you said, it’s all so much more complicated than that. And it puts the onus on the individual.

Latoya: Yes, absolutely it does.

Gabe: I was looking over the RR executive summary [for 2023] and the most common places that people relocate from are Afghanistan and Pakistan, but there are just so many places hostile to LGBTQ+ people, and so many people with relocation stories from all over the world. I was wondering what’s the most hopeful story you’ve heard or maybe a story of relocation that is one of your favorites?

Latoya: Oh, that’s a tough one. I probably wouldn’t use the word “favorite.” Perhaps the word is “inspiring.”

I had just started at Rainbow Railroad, and there was this individual who was scheduled to relocate in 2023. I recall being introduced to this person via Zoom. I don’t know what it was, but they felt comfortable enough and safe enough, so I think they spoke for maybe over an hour just sharing what they had experienced and feeling hopeful that their time had come to relocate. And I recall thinking, “I don’t know if I’ve ever met anybody who was as resilient as this person was,” because they have gone through so much physically, mentally, emotionally. I mean, I listened to the telling of their story, and they were telling their story through tears, but with such strength. And I said to myself, “how is it possible that somebody who lived through all of that still finds this strength, still finds the resilience to show up with strangers talking about this, talking about your life experience and doing it in such a hopeful and inspiring way?”

I was so moved. I didn’t speak much, I was just listening, and it was a few weeks perhaps after that that they were scheduled to arrive at the airport. I was there, and I remember giving her the warmest hug because it felt as if I knew this person for a very long time. I knew their struggle. I just wanted to hold them and let them feel that, yes, you are really okay. You’ve gone through all of that. You made it here.

I was just blown away by the way they showed up at the airport. It’s almost as if they were just ready to go again. This is a brand new chance at life. Yes, I’m going to struggle in the first few months or so because relocation is difficult. We know this. But I am ready to go. There was no hesitation, no fear.

And I’ve watched them over the weeks, the months even in their struggles, trying to figure out their credit score, getting worried about that, trying to understand the financial system, trying to live with housemates or roommates and navigating employment and all of that, but just always committed to ensuring that they create the life that they want for themselves here, despite everything that they had gone through and everything that they were living through. Just watching them being able to access the kind of care and support that they need and feeling ever so grateful.

Sometimes it’s difficult for people to feel grateful when everything is not perfect, but every time I’ve had a conversation with them after that, there is so much gratitude, not even just to Rainbow Railroad as an organization, but gratitude to the universe for creating the opportunity for them to be able to live with the dignity that they deserve. And just watching this person who was a stranger to me when they showed up and just seeing how they’ve accessed this opportunity and decided that I am going to make the best of it, and they are making the best of it. And every time they speak, they inspire me, whether they’re speaking through tears or not.

There was something very inspiring for me, having listened to over an hour of this person sharing and then being a part of that journey of watching them leave just from that place where they felt unsafe, abused, discriminated against, and all of that. And now they can live in a country that values their humanity and protects their rights as an LGBTQ person.

Gabe: I mean, they’re a stranger to you, but not a stranger.

Latoya: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Gabe: That’s really beautiful. Is there anything that you would like people to know to support Rainbow Railroad?

Latoya: Oh, yeah. So a few things. I want people to understand that our work is vital. And after we verify a case, you have to identify possibilities so that you can facilitate your travel, and then you have to advocate with governments all around the world to ensure that the right to seek asylum is protected. And more importantly, it is critical that we learn from the experiences of people who we support so that we can ensure that we continuously improve the way that we work. Last year alone, for the first time in our history, we received over 15,000 requests for help.

I’m telling you, some of the narratives that we see come across our website when people submit that request for help, are very, very heartbreaking. And right now, we don’t have the capacity to help everybody who reaches out. That’s part of why we decided that we were going to launch this campaign.

And just a shout out to James Baldwin. There’s a quote, I don’t know if you’re familiar with it, where he says, “There is never a time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment, the time is always now,” and that’s the title of our campaign.

Last year we were only able to help a little over 7,000 people. The reality is there’s several thousands more out there who need our support. And the way we are able to deliver on this mission is that we have people donating their time and donating funds to ensure that we can do this work.

Because to James Baldwin’s point, the challenge is in the moment. It’s right now. And so the time is always now: to donate, to give, to volunteer, all the ways, and to even amplify our message.

Sometimes sharing the message of our work and talking about our mission is as powerful as donating to the organization because the more people are aware of this vital work, the more we will be able to provide support to our siblings who are in distress.

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