A trans woman’s fight for survival: armed men drove her from her home and business
One evening around six o’clock, while I sat in the living room with the doors open, three men walked in… They hurled insults at me, calling me a “faggot” and demanding that I leave town. They gave me 24 hours to go, and when I tried to reason with them, they pulled back their jackets to reveal guns in their waistbands.
- 5 days ago
September 24, 2024
Before fleeing her hometown, Tatiana participated in meetings of Libe Trans, an organization that seeks to defend the rights of trans women in the area. | Photo courtesy of Tatiana Céspedes
CAQUETÁ, Colombia — A year ago, my life shattered, and I continue to search for stability. As a trans woman, I always faced discrimination and abuse, but I managed to create a life where I felt safe. That all changed when armed men stormed into my salon, threatening to kill me unless I left the village. In an instant, I lost everything. Now, I live with my mother, longing for what I once had, while trying to rebuild my life from the ruins.
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Homophobia on the rise: death threat flyers reached my doorstep
For 30 years, I lived in Solita, Caquetá, where daily life challenged me. People constantly rejected trans women, bullying and insulting me without respite. Over time, I learned to navigate the streets, steering clear of places where hostility hit the hardest. Despite the challenges, I built a personal refuge, the place where I lived and worked.
I transformed my beauty salon into my sanctuary. The front housed the salon, filled with vanities, mirrors, wigs, styling tools, and products for my clients and sales. Pictures of Marilyn Monroe adorned the walls, paying tribute to a woman whose sensuality I deeply admired. I kept an organized, inviting space where I spent most of my time, free from the insults and aggression that lurked outside. My friends and clients often visited, and I rarely needed to leave. It became my world, a place where I lived and worked peacefully.
The only dark spot in my life came from the unwanted visitors who showed up every weekend. Drunk men rang my doorbell late at night, flooding me with fear and anger. I knew exactly what they wanted—access to my body. I felt forced to let them in, pretending to tolerate their presence. While they took what they came for, I could only think about how much I wanted it to end.
Things worsened when armed groups began fighting for control of the area. These groups were openly homophobic, rejecting any sexual identities beyond the male-female binary. Soon, I found flyers on the streets and even under my door, filled with hateful messages targeting gays, lesbians, and trans people.
Armed men issued a deadly ultimatum: trans women targeted
Every flyer that reached my hands ended with a chilling death threat. Seeing them filled me with dread, but I still did not fully grasp how intense and dangerous the threats would become. One evening around six o’clock, while I sat in the living room with the doors open, three men walked in.
At first, I mistook them for customers, but their serious expressions quickly told me otherwise. They hurled insults at me, calling me a “faggot” and demanding that I leave town. They gave me 24 hours to go, and when I tried to reason with them, they pulled back their jackets to reveal guns in their waistbands. As they left, they warned me that they would kill me if they ever saw me again.
I stood in shock, frozen in the middle of the room, trying to make sense of what just happened. I struggled to decide whether to close up immediately or finish the workday. After a few minutes, I finally moved to shut the door. My mind fell into complete disarray, too confused and shaken to attend to anyone, let alone think clearly.
I called a police friend for advice. He told me he could only help if I filed a report, but the men who threatened me had warned that things would get worse if I did. Terrified, I ran to a friend working on his motorcycle, explained everything, and he simply said, “Let’s go.” Knowing that recently, someone killed several trans women, including two friends, I moved swiftly.
Leaving behind 30 years of my life
I left my home of 30 years with nothing but the clothes on my back and headed to my mother’s town. As we drove away, I looked back, and tears filled my eyes. We arrived at my mother’s house at 1:00 a.m. and awoke her to open the door. Confused but welcoming, she greeted me warmly. I limited the details, simply telling her briefly I would be staying for a while. Since that night, I feel like the life I live is not my own.
Today, I live in constant fear and rarely leave the house. With the help of friends, I bought basic tools to cut hair for neighbors in my mother’s living room. It feels uncomfortable, and work remains slow, but it offers me a start. I rely on neighborhood kids to run errands for me to avoid going out.
When I do need to leave, I feel tense and scared. People staring at me makes me anxious. I fear they may be connected to those who threatened me. The fear of being recognized haunts me daily. I spend my days longing for a life I will never get back. I barely talk to anyone but my mother, having cut ties with friends for safety. Some nights, sleep completely alludes me. Other nights, nightmares of being hunted haunt me. Crying until exhaustion becomes the only thing to offer temporary relief. I gave up on reclaiming my belongings, unwilling to relive the pain of losing everything. Though I want to leave this place, I lack the means. I try to remain hopeful that I will find a place one day, where I can be free from fear.
