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Sri Lanka's gays share their journey
Chloe Arnold (BBC News, 20/5/2007)
When Sujeewa told his older brother he was gay, he beat him up and chased him out of the house.
That was eight years ago, since when Sujeewa has started helping out at Companions on a Journey, Sri Lanka's only society for gay men and women.
"It was very difficult for my friends and family to accept I was gay," says Sujeewa, who doesn't want to give his last name.
"It's a bit easier today, but people are still suspicious of me. I have to be very careful where I go."
We are sitting in a neat white room with comfortable sofas and a large television in the corner.
Companions on a Journey is a drop-in centre in Colombo that's become a lifeline for Sri Lanka's gay community.
Once a week it shows films with gay themes - Priscilla - Queen of the Desert, Maurice, The Crying Game and Boys Don't Cry.
On the other side of the room, half a dozen book shelves are stacked with gay literature, from novels to magazines to advice on how to cope with the HIV/Aids.
Growing confidence
Sujeewa, who is 28, wears leopard-print corduroys, a tight T-shirt and gold earrings, and his long hair is tied in a sleek ponytail.
"I get a lot of nasty looks because of the way I dress," he says. "But it's something I've just had to get used to."
Since he first discovered Companions on a Journey, Sujeewa's life has turned around. He feels more confident with his sexuality, he has started working as a hairdresser and now has a steady boyfriend.
"Before, we had to be so secretive about where we met," he remembers.
"Now at least being gay is less of a taboo."
Sherman de Rose, the founder of Companions on a Journey, agrees.
When he started the group last year, he used to receive death threats.
It got so bad, he says, he had to leave the country for a while until religious groups, political leaders, and some sections of the media, the most vehement opponents to his organisation, calmed down.
"But attitudes have begun to change," he says.
"At the beginning, people wouldn't even discuss the topic of homosexuality. They refused to recognise it existed.
"Now we can hold demonstrations to demand better rights and we won't get chased off the streets."
'Afraid to be themselves'
One of the most difficult things for gay men and women in Sri Lanka is simply coming to terms with their homosexuality. Given the social intolerance, it is very difficult, Sherman says.
"So many gay men marry and have children because it is easier than coming out," he says.
When he first opened his doors, people used to turn up and say they weren't gay themselves, they were coming for a friend.
"Even here, they were afraid to be themselves," he says.
Others just came and sat there for an hour or two, not speaking, not doing anything.
"They saw us as a safe haven, a place where they could go through a sort of healing process," he says.
"It takes an enormous amount of courage for people to come here. They suffer from very low-self esteem because of the rejection."
He still receives dozens of letters from around the country from people who don't give their names or addresses, but who just write to thank him for being there.
"They simply say that they are glad they aren't alone," he says.
Legal challenge
Companions now have two more drop-in centres in Sri Lanka, one in Kandy and one in Anuradhapura. They put out a monthly newsletter and every full moon they organise a big party.
"It's a chance for people to let their hair down, really be themselves," Sherman says.
"And we always have a competition to find the most beautiful drag queen."
But there is a more serious side to the organisation.
Working with a network of lawyers, they are trying to persuade lawmakers to change Sri Lanka's criminal code, which outlaws homosexuality.
"There is still a lot of opposition," he says, "and we still aren't even close to Europe or the United States when it comes to gay rights.
"But we've come a long way in eight years. We aren't expecting miracles, but I think we're getting there, bit by bit."
Chloe Arnold (BBC News, 20/5/2007)
When Sujeewa told his older brother he was gay, he beat him up and chased him out of the house.
That was eight years ago, since when Sujeewa has started helping out at Companions on a Journey, Sri Lanka's only society for gay men and women.
"It was very difficult for my friends and family to accept I was gay," says Sujeewa, who doesn't want to give his last name.
"It's a bit easier today, but people are still suspicious of me. I have to be very careful where I go."
We are sitting in a neat white room with comfortable sofas and a large television in the corner.
Companions on a Journey is a drop-in centre in Colombo that's become a lifeline for Sri Lanka's gay community.
Once a week it shows films with gay themes - Priscilla - Queen of the Desert, Maurice, The Crying Game and Boys Don't Cry.
On the other side of the room, half a dozen book shelves are stacked with gay literature, from novels to magazines to advice on how to cope with the HIV/Aids.
Growing confidence
Sujeewa, who is 28, wears leopard-print corduroys, a tight T-shirt and gold earrings, and his long hair is tied in a sleek ponytail.
"I get a lot of nasty looks because of the way I dress," he says. "But it's something I've just had to get used to."
Since he first discovered Companions on a Journey, Sujeewa's life has turned around. He feels more confident with his sexuality, he has started working as a hairdresser and now has a steady boyfriend.
"Before, we had to be so secretive about where we met," he remembers.
"Now at least being gay is less of a taboo."
Sherman de Rose, the founder of Companions on a Journey, agrees.
When he started the group last year, he used to receive death threats.
It got so bad, he says, he had to leave the country for a while until religious groups, political leaders, and some sections of the media, the most vehement opponents to his organisation, calmed down.
"But attitudes have begun to change," he says.
"At the beginning, people wouldn't even discuss the topic of homosexuality. They refused to recognise it existed.
"Now we can hold demonstrations to demand better rights and we won't get chased off the streets."
'Afraid to be themselves'
One of the most difficult things for gay men and women in Sri Lanka is simply coming to terms with their homosexuality. Given the social intolerance, it is very difficult, Sherman says.
"So many gay men marry and have children because it is easier than coming out," he says.
When he first opened his doors, people used to turn up and say they weren't gay themselves, they were coming for a friend.
"Even here, they were afraid to be themselves," he says.
Others just came and sat there for an hour or two, not speaking, not doing anything.
"They saw us as a safe haven, a place where they could go through a sort of healing process," he says.
"It takes an enormous amount of courage for people to come here. They suffer from very low-self esteem because of the rejection."
He still receives dozens of letters from around the country from people who don't give their names or addresses, but who just write to thank him for being there.
"They simply say that they are glad they aren't alone," he says.
Legal challenge
Companions now have two more drop-in centres in Sri Lanka, one in Kandy and one in Anuradhapura. They put out a monthly newsletter and every full moon they organise a big party.
"It's a chance for people to let their hair down, really be themselves," Sherman says.
"And we always have a competition to find the most beautiful drag queen."
But there is a more serious side to the organisation.
Working with a network of lawyers, they are trying to persuade lawmakers to change Sri Lanka's criminal code, which outlaws homosexuality.
"There is still a lot of opposition," he says, "and we still aren't even close to Europe or the United States when it comes to gay rights.
"But we've come a long way in eight years. We aren't expecting miracles, but I think we're getting there, bit by bit."
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