“They hate me for being a lesbian, but God loves me”: The Kenyan church that opens its doors to LGBTQ+ people

At one point during the service, Jacinta Nzilani, a 60-year-old woman, the oldest person in the congregation today, stands up and asks for the microphone. Most of those present (the older ones dressed in elegant Sunday best, the younger ones in loose-fitting sportswear) look at her expectantly. “I come from a village, which is in a very remote rural area, where we don’t even have water. Oh, believe me! People there hate me! Do you know why? Because I’m a lesbian. That’s the only reason they have. I know what it’s like to go through that. But even so, I know that God loves me,” she begins. The people applaud, become emotional, and then fall silent again so that Nzilani can continue speaking: “I know we’re going to face many problems, so many that I can’t even mention them. But we’re going to be strong, we’re going to love each other. That’s why we’re here, to celebrate God’s love.”

In fact, one of the things that makes Nzilani's story so special is precisely that she wants to tell it publicly. She does this thanks to the Cosmopolitan Affirming Church (CAC) , a Kenyan church inspired by Christian religious traditions that openly welcomes LGBTQ+ people. This isn't easy in a place like Kenya, where the penal code punishes "sex against the order of nature" with sentences of up to 14 years in prison . Although the law is rarely enforced in practice, people like Jacinta Nzilani often experience discrimination and violence. "I was married to a man. I didn't come out as an open lesbian until I was 45. Since then, I've been spat on, sexually assaulted to find out what was wrong with me... I've been through so many horrible things," she says.

We wanted a place to be ourselves and connect with God, but security is an issue. This is the tenth space we've used. We've been here since 2021.

Caroline Omolo, CAC co-founder and church pastor

“We wanted a place to be ourselves and connect with God, but security is an issue. This is the tenth space we've used. We've been here since 2021,” explains Caroline Omolo, a 49-year-old woman who co-founded CAC in 2013 and is currently one of the church's pastors. She speaks while sitting in a chair in the association's office, located on the third floor of a building in Nairobi, the country's capital. It's a room adjacent to the room where services are held every Sunday. Above her head, a screen displays images from the dozen surveillance cameras that monitor the headquarters. “The church has a total of 780 members. Between 70 and 150 people attend each Sunday service, depending on the day. People from different backgrounds and environments come here,” she says.

Omolo speaks of the difficulties faced over the years. From the difficult beginning, when they didn't even have a meeting place—"we met in a private home until a sex workers' organization lent us their headquarters"—to stories of discrimination and also cases that offer windows of hope. One of the most recent occurred in February 2023, when the Kenyan Supreme Court, in a 3-2 vote, upheld the unconstitutionality of rejecting the registration of an LGBTQ+ LGBTQ+ association based solely on the applicants' sexual orientation. This decision thus confirmed that the right to form associations (enshrined in Article 36 of the Constitution adopted in 2010 ) applies to all people in the country without exception. "Since then, there has been an increase in the registration of organizations with the acronym LGBTQ+," confirms Caroline Omolo.

Fear and distrust

But while there is reason for hope, there is also cause for mistrust or fear. Just weeks after the Supreme Court's decision, a parliamentarian introduced the so-called Family Protection Bill , a bill that sought to criminalize the promotion and funding of all LGBTQ+ activity, explicitly prohibiting homosexuality and same-sex unions, and even speaking with pronouns other than the sex assigned at birth. Its provisions also included the death penalty for cases of "aggravated homosexuality" (relating to a minor or vulnerable person, or transmitting a fatal disease) and established seven-year prison sentences for those who provide spaces for "homosexual activities." The widely publicized text has not become law or been formally debated in Parliament, although LGBTQ+ activists have denounced that it has generated stigma, harassment, and violence .

Kevin (not his real name), a 22-year-old living in Nairobi, has been attending CAC religious gatherings for two years. “A friend told me about this place. I came out of curiosity, and since I liked it, I decided to stay. Now I try not to miss a single Sunday,” he explains. Kevin also affirms that here he can be himself without renouncing his faith, something that doesn't happen at home or with his closest relatives. “No, my mother doesn't know I'm gay. I don't know if I'll tell her later. Maybe I'll have to live like this all my life, hiding my sexual orientation. The truth is, I haven't thought about what I'm going to do in the future,” he says. Next to him, John (not his real name), 23, came with his nails painted and talks about the importance of word of mouth for places like this to flourish: “It's my first time here, but I felt good, I'm sure. I think I'll come back,” he says.

A few times I've gone to interviews and they only ask me about my sexuality. I tell them, "I think you're interested in my skills, not who I sleep with."

Godfrey Adera, pastor of the Kenyan church

Godfrey Adera, 32, is another of the church's pastors. During his sermon, he delivers lines like: "Why do more gay men commit suicide? Because of social pressure, because we've been taught that men don't cry. They tell us: be a man, be strong. But what if I want to cry all night? Well, that's okay. Nothing. Don't worry about people's opinions of you. That gets you nowhere. God loves us just the way we are." Later, at the end of the service, he explains to this newspaper: "I can't get a good job in Kenya. And it's not exactly because I lack training, but because people point me out as gay. Sometimes, I've gone to interviews and they only ask me about my sexuality. I tell them: I think you're interested in my skills, not in the person I sleep with."

Although these types of spaces have proliferated in more places in Africa in recent years, they are not the norm. So much so that Adera discovered the existence of a church in his country that welcomes and cares for LGBTQ+ people while pursuing a Master's degree in Theology in South Korea. He recalls it this way: “In a class, the professor mentioned this association. I had never heard of it, and I was the only Kenyan in the entire group. I went back to the hotel, looked it up online, and wrote to them to introduce myself.” Upon returning to Kenya, he began actively collaborating in CAC activities and fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in a context where it is often a difficult task. “Sometimes, members of other religious congregations don't respect me. There are those who have seen my posts on social media, or read the articles I write, and tell me: you're talking about things you shouldn't be talking about,” he says.

Both Godfrey Adera and Caroline Omolo are aware that, at times, ultraconservative Western groups push for bills as repressive as the one mentioned above, or those already passed in countries like Uganda , to become a reality on the continent. But they assure us that they will continue fighting through faith to achieve safe and inclusive spaces. “Religion is about well-being, about loving one another. It’s a mistake to use it to cause harm, to criminalize people who are in no way criminals,” Adera concludes. For her part, Omolo acknowledges the conflict, but looks to the future with hope: “If this bill is passed, our lives will be in danger. But if everything continues as normal, the risk will be minimal. I look to the future.” “Where I can register with my partner [in the civil registry] without worrying about security, where I can organize these types of events without worry.”