Invisible Wounds
People often speak without knowing the realities that some individuals live through.
In many countries, being LGBT doesn't just mean loving differently. It means learning to survive in silence, hiding a part of yourself, lying to your family, fearing the judgment of others… sometimes even fearing yourself.
Some still say:
"It's a choice."
But seriously… who would willingly choose to leave the majority to live in a minority that is rejected, humiliated, insulted, and sometimes beaten simply for loving?
No one chooses their sexual orientation, just as no one chooses their skin color.
This story tells of the invisible wounds of people who are simply trying to live, love, and breathe in a world that constantly tells them they shouldn't exist.
KINSHASA — APRIL 1991
The rain fell softly on the dusty little avenues of Ndjili.
In a modest apartment with walls weathered by time, Xavier, 25, sat at a small wooden table covered in university notebooks.
A lamp dimly lit the room as he reviewed his notes.
In the distance, one could hear:
Congolese music,
children playing outside,
neighbors loudly chatting in the compound.
Zaire was still under Mobutu's regime.
At that time, homosexuality was not explicitly prohibited in the penal code. Yet, in the streets, in the churches, and in families, homophobia was everywhere.
Gay people lived in hiding.
They were insulted. Rejected. Considered possessed, sick, or shameful.
Three months earlier, Xavier had met someone who would change his life.
Patrick.
In the Matonge neighborhood, Patrick ran a small, well-known hair salon.
Locals often whispered:
— "Ah… that salon? It's a den of basi mibali…"
Patrick was effeminate, flamboyant, funny, and outspoken despite the constant insults. Some even called him "mwasi mobali" behind his back.
But behind his smiles and discreet makeup, Patrick knew the secrets of many men in the neighborhood.
He especially knew those who lived in hiding.
It was through him that Xavier had met Michel.
Michel was 27.
A calm, discreet, and deeply religious man.
He had studied at the minor seminary, and his parents dreamed of seeing him become a priest one day.
In public, Michel appeared above reproach.
But behind that perfect image, he too hid a secret.
For two months, he and Xavier had been living a secret love story.
The neighbors simply thought they were two close friends who sometimes shared the same apartment.
But for Xavier, it was much more than that.
Michel was his first love.
The first man who made him feel like he wasn't a monster.
That evening, Xavier was sitting at his table when he heard the door open softly.
Michel entered the apartment.
But immediately, Xavier sensed something strange.
Michel seemed nervous. Cold. Lost.
Xavier stood up slowly.
— What's wrong, honey? Are you okay?
Michel avoided his gaze.
— Xavier… I have a problem… and I don't even know how to explain it to you…
Worry immediately rose in the young man's eyes.
— What's going on? You know I'm here for you…
Michel took a long breath.
— First of all… promise me you won't be mad at me…
— I promise. Now talk…
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then Michel finally whispered:
— My parents found out about what we do together…
Xavier's face went pale instantly.
— What do you mean, found out? We've always been discreet!
— There are rumors in the neighborhood… People say they see you with Patrick often… and you know how people talk about him…
Michel lowered his head.
— My parents now think I'm like you…
That sentence pierced through Xavier.
Like you.
As if he had become something dirty.
— So what? Xavier asked, his voice trembling.
Michel felt his eyes fill with tears.
— They want to send me to the convent… to become a priest…
The silence became suffocating.
— And what about our story? Xavier asked.
— It's over…
— What?
— Understand me, Xavier… We're not in a movie. This is real life. I have to make my parents proud…
Xavier felt his heart shatter.
— So you're just going to leave? Just like that?
Michel discreetly wiped a tear.
— I'm sorry…
Then he stood up.
And walked out.
The door closed slowly.
Xavier stood still in the middle of the room.
Then he broke down in tears.
ONE MONTH LATER
The rumors continued to circulate in the neighborhood.
Some women whispered as Xavier passed by. Men laughed behind his back.
Even his own family began to feel ashamed.
One morning, his parents took him to a Pentecostal church.
In the midst of several worshippers, a priest brutally placed his hands on his head.
— I DESTROY THE SPIRIT OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH IN THE NAME OF JESUS!
— AMEN! his parents cried out.
— RELEASE THIS CHILD FROM THIS SICKNESS!
Xavier kept his eyes down.
Humiliated.
Broken.
And profoundly alone.
KINSHASA — SEPTEMBER 1995
Four years later.
Xavier now wore an elegant beige suit.
In a small family ceremony, he married Florence, a young woman freshly arrived from the village.
Florence smiled shyly.
She seemed genuinely happy.
But Xavier's gaze was empty.
Since Michel, he had never tried to love a man again.
Fear had won.
So he decided to become what others wanted him to be.
A "real man."
FEBRUARY 1997
A baby's cries echoed through the house.
Florence had just given birth to a baby boy.
— Emmanuel… Xavier whispered as he took his son in his arms.
For the first time in a long while, a faint smile appeared on his face.
His parents were overjoyed.
— Praise God! Our son has been delivered!
But deep down…
Xavier knew nothing had disappeared.
He had simply buried a part of himself.
Alive.
KINSHASA — PRESENT DAY
The sun beat down on the buildings of the University of Kinshasa.
Students moved all over campus as André, 25, walked through the hallways with several law books in his arms.
André dreamed of becoming a great lawyer.
Intelligent, calm, and disciplined, he was his family's pride.
His two older brothers were already married and had children.
Now all the family pressure rested on him.
One evening, as he was quietly eating in his room, his little sister Gisèle burst in with her phone in hand.
— So big brother… who's "My Reason for Living" who sent you a message saying: "I love you my heart"?
André nearly choked.
— Gisèle! Give me back my phone!
She burst out laughing.
— So there really is someone! When are you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?
André quickly snatched his phone back.
— That's none of your business.
— Ooooh… so it's serious!
— No. And stop going through my things.
Gisèle lowered her eyes a little.
— Sorry… I just heard your phone ringing in your room… I wanted to bring it to you…
André sighed softly.
But behind his calm exterior, his heart was beating very fast.
Because "My Reason for Living"…
… was not a woman.
KINSHASA — JANUARY 2018
In the Lemba district, a 12-year-old boy was walking home alone from school.
— Faggot!
— Sissy!
— Heyyy the class fag!
Samuel and other students were laughing behind him.
Kairo simply lowered his head.
He didn't fully understand what he was yet.
But he already understood that he was "different."
Once home, he immediately locked himself in his room.
He discreetly opened an old suitcase hidden under his bed.
Inside:
several dolls,
pieces of fabric,
small drawings of dresses.
Kairo loved drawing clothes.
He secretly dreamed of becoming a fashion designer one day.
For hours, he dressed his dolls in silence.
It was his refuge.
His world.
Until the day his mother discovered the suitcase.
That evening, she waited for him by the door with the dolls in her hands.
— Can you explain what this is, Kairo?
The boy froze.
— They're just my toys, Mom…
At that exact moment, his father walked into the house.
He observed the scene for a few seconds before exploding in anger.
— You're the one destroying this child! he shouted at his wife. You've spoiled him too much!
— Calm down, he's just a child…
— A child?! At his age, I was already chasing girls! And he's playing with dolls like a girl!
Kairo began to tremble.
— Dad… Mom… please stop arguing…
But his father roughly grabbed his arm.
— You need to become a man! A real one!
He dragged Kairo to the dark basement of the house.
Then he pushed him inside and locked the door.
— This will teach him a lesson!
In total darkness, Kairo began to cry.
Then softly…
He started to sing.
His voice was beautiful.
Pure. Fragile. Moving.
And for a few moments, the music managed to calm his fear.
KINSHASA — PRESENT DAY
Omari had just turned 18.
Handsome, intelligent, and ambitious, he dreamed of becoming a journalist.
But recently, someone had begun to influence his worldview.
Trésor.
A 19-year-old TikTok influencer living an impressive lifestyle:
designer clothes,
expensive restaurants,
travel,
new iPhones.
All thanks to Mulak, a 40-year-old Indian man who owned several warehouses in Kinshasa.
Trésor openly embraced his homosexuality since his family had rejected him.
And despite everything… Omari secretly envied his freedom.
One evening, following Trésor's advice, Omari discreetly created Tinder and Grindr accounts.
He posted several provocative photos.
A few minutes later…
Notifications exploded.
Dozens of messages.
Compliments. Proposals. Invitations.
But among all these men…
Only one immediately caught his attention.
