Annemarie

This was one of those situations you don’t easily forget. They stay with you because it was touch and go. Because it was about courage. About making choices against the tide, and about fighting for your own life, for freedom. It started with a phone call that changed everything.

Contact via detours

I remember it well: the voice on the other end of the line was nervous. ‘My boyfriend is stuck in Africa. His parents mustn’t find out. Can you help?’ It was a young man of African descent, raised in the Netherlands, and he was desperate. His boyfriend’s parents had discovered that he was attracted to men, something they found unacceptable. So they decided to send him back to his country of origin. Not to go on holiday or visit his grandmother, but because they couldn’t accept who he was.
We had to speak to him ourselves, but that wasn’t easy. He was staying with family who weren’t allowed to know anything. Sometimes we could only contact him via Snapchat. I remember that moment well. His voice was full of fear, the pain and sadness clearly audible. He literally said, ‘I want to go back to the Netherlands, but I can’t go home.’ He was terrified. The situation was hopeless, but we didn’t give up.
His mother was the driving force behind his abandonment. She absolutely wanted him to stay in Africa. But his father, who turned out to be a little more accessible, eventually arranged for his ticket back to the Netherlands. It was a small but meaningful victory. And it was much more exciting than usual, because he didn’t want to go home with his parents.

Schiphol

When he finally returned to the Netherlands, he had to walk through the arrivals hall at Schiphol, where his family was waiting for him… I will never forget how tense he was.
He said, ‘Everyone I see could be my uncle. Or my cousin. They’re going to recognise me.’ You could almost feel the fear. He was so afraid that his own family would recognise him. The tension in the air was palpable. He chose to go with his boyfriend. He was of age, so he had the right to decide for himself. But that didn’t make it any less risky. His boyfriend lived in the same city as his parents. The situation was very delicate.

This was one of those situations you don’t easily forget. They stay with you because it was touch and go.

He made it – also thanks to his network

What helped him was the network around him: his boyfriend, an internship supervisor, people at school. They saw that things weren’t going well and intervened. That made all the difference. But he depended on his boyfriend for everything — his place to stay, his future. I often thought, ‘If this goes wrong, what then?’ That concern remained.

Let go, but don’t forget

After his return to the Netherlands, we called in a local aid organisation. I remember saying to him: ‘Let us know if you need us.’ He was cautiously reconnecting with his father, wanting to explain his choice. But deep down, I knew: ‘The reason you were sent away is still there.’ It was so difficult to accept that his struggle was not over yet. He had been given a chance, but the road ahead was still long.

Why these stories need to be told

Many people don’t know that this happens. And that’s why these stories need to be told. So that someone, for example a teacher who notices something strange, knows what to do. So that young people know that help is available. And so that we as a society better understand why someone sometimes has to flee from their own family. Because this is not something that happens far away. It is human behaviour. It happens here, in the Netherlands. Every day. And every time I think back to this young man, I wonder how he is doing now. Because this story, this fight, is not over.