We are young Kampalans. We like to go out and meet other like-minded, good-looking young people.

We like to dance, on rugby pitches or sweaty back rooms with a bottle in one hand and the other around someone’s waist.

We like to have well-lubricated conversations about religion, sex, politics and football, about the way things were and the way things should be.

We like to laugh.

We love to laugh but we are also here for each other when we have to cry.

We respect and value life, partly because we understand that not everyone thinks the same way. Not everyone has to live the way we say they should just because we think it’s the best way to live.

Kampala is our city, and we love it because we have always felt safe to be ourselves, regardless of whether it pisses off some religious fundamentalists.

Now we are hurt, we are scared, but we are not about to let some cartoon villain dictate through fear, the way we should feel and live in our home. This is our home.

This is our home

This is our home.

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