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Human Rights LGBTQ

Why Some LGBT Youths In Jamaica Are Forced To Call A Sewer Home

Young LGBT Jamaicans are chased out of their communities by family and neighbors using vigilante justice to enforce the country’s laws against homosexual conduct. Now police are trying to push them out of their shelter of last resort.

Posted originally on Buzzfeed News on December 18, 2013, at 12:07 p.m. ET

KINGSTON, Jamaica — Around 11 a.m. on Sunday, Dec. 1, police officers led by Cmdr. Christopher Murdock lowered a ladder into an open sewer in New Kingston, the Jamaican capital’s financial district. The sewer, damp and strewn with trash, flowed out of the business district housing several banks, large hotels, and shopping arcades. And it was home to a group of youths Murdock wanted gone.

Their alleged crime: stealing. Murdock said he had received more than 30 reports of theft and robbery since the group, ranging in age from teens to early twenties, had moved into the sewer several months before, and he was becoming concerned that the stretch of Trafalgar Road that runs over their makeshift home was becoming unsafe for people to walk.

But Murdock’s televised remarks following the Sunday raid left the impression the kids were unwanted for an entirely different reason: “The aim of this operation was to remove men of diverse sexual orientation who continue to plague the New Kingston area.”

Jamaica has long been one of the most hostile countries in the Americas for LGBT people. But in recent months, the murders of LGBT people and mob attacks — including fire bombings — on the houses where they live have made headlines with increasing frequency. Activists are not entirely sure what’s caused the surge in violence, though it may be due in part to the debate over possibly repealing the country’s colonial-era sodomy law, an idea that Prime Minister Portia Simpson-Miller floated during her 2011 campaign. Her government has not yet taken any action on the proposal, but pro-family groups have mounted a campaign to ensure it never does.

For years, the media in Jamaica have hyped stories about the crimes of “rowdy gays,” crafting a distorted image of the LGBT community at large, local activists say. Television stations have refused to run ads promoting tolerance for LGBT people — on Nov. 16, the country’s Supreme Court tossed out a lawsuit challenging their decision last spring to reject an ad put together by the organization AIDS-Free World promoting tolerance for LGBT people. The ad featured a gay lawyer named Maurice Tomlinson who left Jamaica in 2012 following several death threats. Many out gay public figures have also gone into exile, while several others have been murdered in the past 15 years; the number of out gay public figures still living in the country can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

The headlines that ran the day after the sewer raid were typical: “Gay robbery suspects arrested in [New Kingston] raid,” said the Jamaica Observer in a 660-word feature that focused on the youths’ cross-dressing and exhaustion from “partying all night.”

Even the group’s advocates say the youths are not blameless: They have turned on people who have tried to help them and admitted to some criminal activity — they largely survive on prostitution. But the youths are convinced there is something else motivating the police raids against them.

“They are trying to pin something on us,” said one, who gave his name as Michael. (To protect their safety, BuzzFeed is referring to them by aliases they chose themselves.) The police and the press, Michael said, were going after the group for the same reasons the group took shelter in the sewer in the first place: Homosexual conduct is against the law, and Jamaicans are willing to take enforcement into their own hands.

“Because I am gay and it’s not legalized in the country, they want to get rid of us,” he said.

The situation for LGBT people in Jamaica has been deteriorating since July, when a 16-year-old named Dwayne Jones was hacked to death by a mob in the northern city of Montego Bay after he was outed while dancing with a man who did not know Jones had been born male. Since then, there have been multiple incidents when mobs descended on the houses of people perceived to be gay, including a firebomb attack in October, also in the area of Montego Bay.

It wasn’t always this way. “I can remember things were not this bad when I was coming up and coming out,” said Lewis, who is 38 and came out to his family at 18, though he only felt safe enough to allow his face to be shown in press reports starting in 2013.

Between 2009 and 2012, the Jamaican Forum for Lesbians, All-Sexuals, and Gays (J-FLAG), the country’s oldest LGBT rights group, counted 231 reports of discrimination and violence. But the worsening violence could be a response to greater visibility by LGBT people, a terrible backlash against modest progress. It has taken its toll on gay and trans youth. (For reasons LGBT activists don’t entirely understand, there aren’t many known cases of homeless lesbian girls.) “People are coming out younger and younger and being pushed out younger and younger,” Lewis said.

Interviews conducted with six of the youths scooped up in the sewer raid paint a scary picture. All told stories of being turned out by their families, exiled by neighbors, and assaulted by classmates or neighborhood gangs.

Michael, who has the blond hair in the photograph above taken days after the raid, left his community three years ago at age 17 after being threatened at gunpoint for being gay. To his right, straddling the ditch, is Fancy Face, who is 23. She said she left home around a year and a half ago when local papers published a picture of her cross-dressing at a party raided by police.

On the far left, holding the pink handbag, is Davel. He was the youngest of the group — 15 — when his siblings forced him out of his mother’s house five years ago.

Davel now speaks with a kind of appreciation about the daily beatings his brother used to administer hoping to scare him straight: “He wasn’t really beating me to damage me. He was saying, ‘[This] is Jamaica’ … and he [was] showing me that when I get older and other guys come at me, they won’t have any mercy.”

Davel’s story spoke to the difficulty many gay and trans teens have in finding a home in Jamaica. First he went to a “capture house,” an abandoned building taken over by gay and trans squatters. Community uproar got the squatters evicted from that house, and from the next house he went to, and the next.

For a time, he had a boyfriend who took him in. But when their relationship faltered, Davel wound up on the streets. In August, he met some of the New Kingston group on Half Way Tree Road, a busy commercial district a short distance away that serves as a gathering spot for LGBT youths in the area.

They took him to the sewer, where he had to climb over a guardrail and lower himself down a 10-foot drop. The “bedroom” was the fetid tunnel running under the busy road. His first night there, he said, was “kind of horrifying.”

The Dec. 1 raid — which was followed by another police visit the next day — was just the latest in what the group said has been a three-month campaign of police harassment. On the night of the raid, police burned their few possessions, including food and clothing donated by LGBT rights activists; the gray muck along the bottom of the channel were the ashes, they said. In previous raids they were pepper-sprayed, beaten with batons, and shot with metal marbles fired from slingshots, they said. Murdock denied the group had been brutalized and denied having burned their belongings.

Police are not the group’s only problem. “Here in the gully anyone can climb down at any time,” Davel said. “You are probably asleep and they come throw stones at your head, catch [you] on fire. Because that’s what Jamaica is for and all about with homosexuals.”

Like India and many other former colonies, Jamaica’s law criminalizing same-sex intercourse is a relic of British rule. It is known locally as the “buggery law.”

Justice Minister Mark Golding told BuzzFeed that a proposal to revise the code had been drafted, but not yet put to parliament — there have been too many other contentious issues already on the agenda since this government took office in 2012, he argued. Golding said he hoped to place a broader review of the country’s sexual offenses law on the agenda in 2014, believing that might enable discussion of the question in a “more sober” way.

Despite the hope for reform, Golding said violence against LGBT people in Jamaica did not stem from the buggery law, but was rather a reflection of high violent crime rate overall. “It is not illegal to be gay in Jamaica,” he said. “Many Jamaicans know that.”

Dane Lewis, director of J-FLAG, said homeless LGBT youth face particular challenges in the country: “They’re out there because their communities are not at all interested in allowing them in being part of that space. They remain out there because we have a society that says, ‘Yes, they are second-class citizens and the state does not feel it needs to provide protection.”

They have also posed a challenge for the Jamaican gay rights movement.

In 2009, J-FLAG collaborated with the organization Jamaica AIDS Support for Life to set up a shelter for LGBT youth a short distance from the New Kingston sewer. It housed 11 boys and one girl; all but one or two of whom were HIV positive.

The youths were difficult and scarred — nearly all were victims of physical and sexual abuse, and sometimes they lashed out. When pilot funding ran out in early 2010, the groups were forced to shut the program down and provided aid on an ad hoc basis. The problems only grew. There were altercations with staff and break-ins, and those who felt they were not getting the services they wanted sometimes threw stones at J-FLAG’s building. J-FLAG provided meals a few times a week to around 30 kids, but they weren’t allowed access to the bathrooms and so they defecated on the property.

When J-FLAG was forced to change location for unrelated reasons in the spring of this year, activists decided to keep their new location secret, which had “a lot to do with” not wanting the youths to find them, Lewis said. Now, he says, the youths have become their own worst enemies.

He sympathized with Murdock, the police commander, saying he “really is challenged because [the youths] have created for themselves a problem [in] the spaces that they would congregate in.”

They have also created a problem for other LGBT Jamaicans, he argued. “They have eroded some of the gains that we have made towards greater tolerance,” he said. “Some people automatically think — because that’s the only representation that they know of gay people — that that’s how the majority of gay people behave.”

That attitude drew sharp criticism from Yvonne McCalla Sobers, a veteran activist: “It’s a damn class thing… The [youths’] bad behavior is processed in a way that puts the blame on the youth, although the youth are not blameless.”

She said that activists like Lewis, who are insulated from the threats less well-off gays face on the streets by living in gated communities and driving cars, don’t fully appreciate why the youth act out.

“It’s safe to assume that those who don’t support themselves with prostitution support themselves with robbery, but they have to find some way to survive,” she said. “They are pretty battered by the time you meet them.”

McCalla Sobers is a 76-year-old former schoolteacher and founder of the anti-police brutality organization Families Against State Terrorism. She was often a representative for J-FLAG in the years when its members were too frightened to be identified as gay in the press. Now, she is helping coordinate an effort to establish a shelter for the youths living in the sewer.

The person pushing hardest for the shelter’s creation is Maurice Tomlinson, who brought the lawsuit trying to get the LGBT rights ad on television. Another person who worked closely with the youths, Micheal Forbes, is now seeking asylum following periods of near-homelessness after a mob chased him from his aunt’s home in the northern part of the island earlier this year. McCalla Sobers is also getting some help from a newly formed lesbian organization, Quality of Citizenship Jamaica.

They are calling the shelter Dwayne’s House, in honor of the trans youth killed in Montego Bay in July, and launched a fundraising campaign this month. They estimate that it will take $150,000 to establish a shelter to house 50 youths and will cost a monthly $450 per resident to keep it running.

Until the shelter is established, however, the youths’ situation grows more dire.

Ten days after the police raid, heavy rain accomplished what Murdock could not: Flooding forced the kids to flee the sewer. They have temporarily taken shelter in front of nearby businesses, keeping a constant eye out for security guards, waiting for the rain to subside.

The homeless boy calling himself Michael said, “They just want to get rid of us … but we don’t have anywhere to go. We have to stay right there until something is done for us.”

J. Lester Feder is a foreign correspondent for BuzzFeed and 2013 Alicia Patterson journalism fellow.

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LGBTQ

The Congressman, The Cardinal, And The Peruvian Closet

Carlos Bruce, a Peruvian congressman, is leading a major campaign for civil unions in one of South America’s most religious countries. The church has put his sexuality at the center of the debate — not that he seems to mind.

Posted originally on Buzzfeed News on December 7, 2013, at 8:35 a.m. ET

Bar Picas is a glass and wood cube in Lima’s Barranco district that sits in the shadow of a picturesque church with a roof that is slowly collapsing. After he had the bar up and running, its owner, Carlos Bruce, approached the Archdiocese of Lima with a proposal to restore the church and rent it for 10 years as a multiuse space.

They said no.

Perhaps they suspected Bruce would turn the church into a bar like Picas, which hosts regular “fashion shows” featuring muscled boys in boxer shorts and girls in bikinis. Or maybe it was because Bruce was already on adversarial terms with the head of the country’s Catholic Church, Cardinal Juan Luis Cipriani.

Nightclubs are just a side business for Bruce; his main occupation is politics. Since 2006, he has been a member of the Peruvian Congress. He had a serious shot at becoming the country’s vice president when former President Alejandro Toledo asked him to be his running mate in his failed bid to recapture the office in 2011.

Bruce has showed no fear in baiting the Catholic Church in one of the Latin American countries where it has the most political power, and not only by trying to rent one of its churches. Over the past few years, he has emerged as the leading advocate of LGBT rights in the Peruvian Congress. After unsuccessfully championing protections for LGBT people in hate crimes legislation and a failed proposal to create a new kind of contract to allow same-sex couples to secure their joint property, Bruce introduced a bill to allow same-sex couples to enter into civil unions in September.

Cardinal Cipriani went nuclear.

“It doesn’t seem to me that we have named congressmen in order to justify their own [sexual] preference,” Cipriani said during a Sept. 14 television appearance.

Rumors that Bruce — who is divorced and has two adult sons — is gay have circulated for years among both his enemies and his allies. But this is the first time any public figure had so directly said it on the record.

Cipriani’s remarks set off a media storm. The front page of the tabloid La Razón blared, “Cipriani pulls Bruce out of the closet.” Social media went into a frenzy, circulating a picture of the congressman at his bar with a group of men who look as though they were dressed for a leather party.

A popular comedy show also featured a skit in which an actor portraying Bruce addresses a group of effeminate sailors who refer to him as their “godfather.”

At first, Bruce responded angrily to what he termed “personal attacks.” He announced his “irrevocable” resignation from La Razón, where he had been a columnist, and said the cardinal’s words were “beneath him.”

“I will not fall to the level to which the cardinal has descended,” he said on RPP Television. His reaction seemed to suggest he thought he was fighting for his political life.

But as Cipriani’s statement faded from the news — helped by the fact that the Peruvian church became embroiled in a child sex-abuse scandal — Bruce’s public response appeared to grow more confident. Last week, he even crowned the winner of the Miss Amazonas drag beauty pageant in the Amazonian city of Iquitos, which he described as part of his nationwide campaign to promote the civil union bill.

Bruce has managed to carve out a space in Peruvian political life that would have been close to unthinkable in the United States 20 or 30 years ago, when gay rights were as controversial a subject in the U.S. as they are in Peru today. (Congressman Barney Frank would be the closest analog before he came out in 1987, but even he was leery of taking the lead on LGBT rights legislation when closeted.) Bruce believes that being identified as gay would be political suicide, and yet he does very little to dispel the impression that he is. And he has been unafraid to lead on LGBT rights despite its potential to keep him from ever climbing to higher office.

When asked directly whether he is gay, Bruce has a standard answer. “My official response is, ‘I don’t speak about my personal life,'” Bruce told BuzzFeed during a conversation in the Peruvian capitol building in Lima last year.

There’s a big political difference between supporting LGBT rights proposals and being openly gay in today’s Peru, he explained.

“If I can imagine a politician saying he’s openly gay, for sure he [would lose] 80% of his voters,” Bruce said.

Bruce can afford to tackle the issue because his popularity runs deep. He had the second-largest vote total of any member of Congress when he was elected to his first five-year term in 2006, and his tenure in Toledo’s cabinet made him a household name.

BuzzFeed/J. Lester Feder

Bruce hadn’t set out to be a politician. He was trained as an economist and made his fortune in the seafood business. He began his political career while president of the country’s exporters’ association. During the 2000 election, many business interests turned against then-President Alberto Fujimori, who had fought ruthlessly against the Shining Path guerrillas during the country’s civil war in the 1990s and was then running for a third term in violation of the constitution.

Bruce offered his support to Toledo — Fujimori’s leading opponent — and ultimately ran his campaign. Their relationship became even closer after Fujimori recaptured the presidency in a questionable election: Toledo and his team had to go into hiding after the government blamed them for a bombing that occurred during an anti-Fujimori protest. After a week of secretly camping out at the Park Hotel near the U.S. Embassy, it was decided that Bruce would take the risk of leaving the hotel to be the spokesman for the Toledo camp.

Facing widening corruption charges, Fujimori fled to Japan before later being extradited and imprisoned in Peru. Toledo won the election that followed. When he entered office in 2001, he named Bruce to head the Ministry of the Presidency, a position that put him in charge of overseeing all Peru’s regional governments and was one of the most powerful agencies in the country. When democratic reforms did away with the agency, Bruce became the first minister of housing.

That’s where he won popular affection. He went on television to publicize a program subsidizing the purchase of homes accompanied by the program’s mascot, who dressed in a costume like Bob the Builder’s and was known as “T-Chito,” a play on words: “Chito” is sort of the Peruvian equivalent of “homie,” and “techito” means “little roof.”

That’s the name that stuck to Bruce. Even today, when he walks around Lima, strangers call out to him, “Hey, Techito!”

He rode that popularity into Congress from a district in Lima, a city that remains a center of Catholic and evangelical organizing. Though a handful of jurisdictions have local laws banning discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, reports of anti-gay hate crimes are frequent (and often horrific) and opposition to LGBT rights is widespread. A 2011 proposal from Lima Mayor Suzana Villarán for an ordinance to ban discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation helped prompt a recall election that she only narrowly survived and cost her party many seats on the city council.

Christians in Lima “do not agree with a mayor that participates in marches of transvestites and sissies [maricas], a pro-lesbian, pro-gay mayor,” one of the recall leaders said in a November 2012 interview. “Thanks to … evangelical churches’ pro-life and pro-family movements, everything has headed towards [her recall].”

Yet when Bruce’s opponents have tried to make an issue of his sexual orientation, it has backfired.

On Jan. 17, 2011 it was reported that Luis Castañeda Lossio, a presidential candidate from Solidaridad Nacional, a center-right party, called Bruce “una loca” during a press conference, a phrase that literally means “crazy” but is used like “faggot.” The press pounced, eagerly reporting on the comments and Bruce’s denunciation of Castañeda’s comments as “homophobic.”

It wasn’t entirely clear if Castaneda intended the epithet, however. It came while he was responding to a statement Bruce had made that Castañeda was nervous about his standing in the polls. The full quote was, “Esa es una loca — es una loca afirmación,” which could be translated, “That is a crazy — that is a crazy assertion.” Whether he meant to impugn Bruce’s sexuality depends on whether the pause in phrasing was intentional.

Despite the ambiguity, Castañeda came out looking the worse for it, publically criticized for violating decorum and repeatedly forced to deny that he ever called Bruce a “loca” in the first place. Bruce, on the other hand, remained unconcerned about how discussion of his sexuality might affect the campaign — in fact, the encounter may have emboldened him. Just over a week later, the Peruvian equivalent of the “It Gets Better” Campaign, Todo Mejora, posted a video from Bruce in which he seemed to be daring his critics to bring up his sexuality again.

Addressing his remarks to a young gay person who is being bullied, Bruce said that “Many bad people sometimes [spread hatred] against people who are different.” But, he said, raising his eyebrows, “I know businessmen, politicians, that are gays. And they are successful people and are very respectable people.”

The bullies, he said, are the ones who can’t get jobs in later life. But the kids who are bullied wind up more successful and happier than the bullies. “My advice,” he said, “is to laugh” at the insults.

Despite the controversy following Bruce’s introduction of the civil union bill, it seems like it has a more serious shot of passage than any other recent major LGBT rights legislation. Or, at least, advocates appear to be mounting a better-organized campaign around the bill than they’ve managed to do around other initiatives in the past.

The Peruvian LGBT rights movement is beset by division, in part because there are many different groups run mostly by volunteers. They disagree on priorities and strategy; there are divisions between, gay, lesbian, and trans interests; and class issues often trump LGBT-specific concerns in their politics.

Peru’s oldest gay rights group, the Movimiento Homosexual de Lima, spurned Bruce’s ticket in 2011 to endorse the ultimate winner of the presidential race, Ollanta Humala, even though Humala voiced strong opposition to same-sex marriage following a special breakfast meeting with Cardinal Cipriani. Humala’s policies were more progressive, explained MHOL’s Veronica Ferrari, and, “MHOL is basically of the left.”

For the civil union effort, Bruce is collaborating with MHOL, along with the most professional NGO in the LGBTI rights world, the Center for the Promotion and Defense of Sexual and Reproductive Rights, which is known as PROMSEX. A small, relatively new organization, the Secular and Humanist Society of Perú, is also a key player because its founder, the British-educated Lima native Helmut Kessel, has advised Bruce on LGBT issues since his vice presidential campaign and has been instrumental in strategizing behind the scenes.

Congress isn’t due to take up the civil union measure until March, but the campaign for its passage is already in full gear. They face an uphill fight — a September poll found 65% of Peruvians opposed to the bill, and 45% said they agreed with a statement by Pope Francis that gays and lesbians are “socially wounded.”

The measure’s backers have started a social media campaign similar to the one mounted by the Human Rights Campaign before the U.S. Supreme Court’s rulings on same-sex marriage in June, having supporters change their avatars to an adaptation of the Peruvian flag that looks like an equals sign.

In late September, the coalition also pulled together an impressive list of almost 200 public figures as signatories for a declaration calling for the law’s passage. The list, published in El Commercio, was headed by Nobel Prize-winning author Mario Vargas Llosa and include the names of 17 members of Congress, plus Bruce. Another important signatory was Diego García Sayán, president of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights, which has two cases in the works that could lead to a ruling that same-sex marriage is a right under international law throughout the Americas.

The civil union campaigners launched their latest initiative this week. They purchased billboards around Lima featuring “Imaginary Couples” — famous straight people posing as same-sex couples alongside the moto, “To love is not a crime.” Participants include Congressman Kenji Fujimori (Keiko’s brother and Alberto’s son) paired with retired footballer Miguel “El Conejo” Rebosio, and comedian Jorge Benavides with boxer Juan Zegarra. The campaign has gone viral under the hashtag #parejasimginarias, and spawned a parallel meme, #parejasreales, featuring actual same-sex couples.

They’re keeping their feet on the gas despite the controversy over Bruce’s sexuality. In fact, this has proved a boon, said George Liendo of PROMSEX.

“It hasn’t [damaged] the image of Congressman Bruce, but rather I think it made it stronger,” Liendo said. “If characters didn’t exist like the cardinal, members of congress from Opus Dei, or evangelical members of Congress … with their extremist commentaries like ‘homosexuals are sick,” “they’re damaged goods” … the media debate would not exist.”

And since the dust-up over Cipriani’s comments, Bruce hasn’t seemed all that eager to keep questions of his sexuality out of the media; perhaps he is beginning to think it’s to his advantage, as well. At times, he has seemed to actively court the controversy.

In early October, Bruce participated in a segment of a Peruvian news program called “In Private,” devoted to the personal lives of public figures. The host, Mónica Delta, broached the topic of his sexual orientation by saying, “I have read or heard that you’ve said that it doesn’t bother you to be called gay.”

“Indeed,” Bruce confirmed. “Sometimes they direct insults at me or believe they are insulting me by saying, ‘You are gay.’ But I am here to tell you I don’t take that as an insult.”

“If you were [gay], would you say it?” Delta gently pressed.

“I think that’s an intimate part of a person’s life,” Bruce said. But he added, “What I would never do is say I am something that I’m not.”

“And what is it that you are not?” Delta asked.

“Well, I am not a very disorganized person,” Bruce said.

J. Lester Feder is a foreign correspondent for BuzzFeed and 2013 Alicia Patterson journalism fellow.

Correction: A previous version of this story incorrectly identified the president of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights. He is Diego García Sayán.