I grew up in Francistown in a very conservative Christian family. From the outside, we looked like the perfect church going family. Sundays were for prayer, for rules, for appearances. But deep down, I always knew there was something different about me. I just did not have the words for it at the time.
In my home, anything that was not straight was talked about in whispers, usually with disapproval. That meant I grew up learning very quickly that if I wanted to be loved, I had to hide. So I kept my secret close, trying to play the role of the good son. But inside, I was battling silence and loneliness, always scared of what would happen if my family ever found out who I really was.
When I turned 18, I moved to Gaborone for tertiary education. That is when my world started to open up. The city had something Francistown never gave me, freedom and diversity. At university, I began meeting people like me, people who were not afraid to live openly as part of the LGBTIQ+ community. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was not the only one. It was like breathing fresh air after years of suffocating. Slowly, I started stepping out of my shell, little by little.
I also began volunteering at Friends of Diversity while studying. Balancing my studies with volunteering gave me a strong sense of purpose. I was not just living my truth quietly, I was helping to create space for others like me.
One of the most defining moments of my journey happened on my 21st birthday. I decided I was done hiding. I wanted to celebrate as my authentic self. So I got my makeup done, put on lashes, had a wig installed, and wore heels. That night, I finally showed the world, or at least my family and friends, the version of me I had kept hidden for so long.
And it caused chaos. My supportive sister, who had always known, suddenly became the target of phone calls from my brothers. They accused her of encouraging bad things and influencing me. It hurt to hear that, but in my heart, I knew I had done something brave. I had chosen me.
That Easter, when I went home for the holidays, my sister told me everything that had been happening since my birthday. The words cut deep, and I wanted to cry, but I forced myself to stay strong. I did not want my pain to show.
Then something unexpected happened. My aunt called me aside. My heart was pounding, ready for judgment, but instead, she told me she accepted me. Just like that. I cannot describe the relief I felt in that moment. It was the first time someone in my family truly saw me and embraced me. I opened up to her about my sexuality, and she later went to speak to my mom.
That conversation changed my life. My mother, the woman I had been most afraid of disappointing, chose love instead of fear. She told me she accepted me. She let me wear my crop tops around the house, she listened when I explained what it meant to be part of the LGBTIQ+ community, and she even admitted that the only thing holding her back before was fear, fear of what people would say, fear of how the world would treat me. Hearing that broke me down in the best way.
Her support became crystal clear on one of the proudest days of my life, my graduation. My mom did not just show up to celebrate me, she went a step further. She paid for my graduation makeup. For me, that was huge. It was not just about makeup. It was about her telling me, I see you, I love you, and I support you, exactly as you are.
Today, my mom and I are best friends. Most of my family members now know about me. Not everyone is cheering, but I am no longer living in fear. I am happy, I am proud, and I am free.
Now I work as a Monitoring and Evaluation Officer, and I still carry my volunteering spirit with me. I am trying to create more space for my community, and I tell my story so that maybe, just maybe, another gay child out there in Botswana will hear it and realize it is possible. You can survive, you can thrive, and you can live as your true self.
My story started in silence, but today it is a story of courage, acceptance, and hope. I have learned the power of courage, community, and love. I have learned that living your truth, no matter how hard it is, is always worth it.
