In the quiet town of Koforidua, a man walks through life with the weight of a secret too heavy to bear and a smile too painful to wear. Joshua Tsatsu Kugblenu, once a spirited teacher and devoted church member in Ada, is now a ghost of the man he used to be, not because of crime, not because of shameful conduct, but because of who he is: a gay man born into a society that refuses to let him live in truth.
Joshua’s story is not one of rebellion or defiance; it is a story of survival. In May 2016, his world crumbled when members of the Faith Power Ministry, a church he once served with dedication, ousted him publicly. The exposure turned into a witch hunt. He lost his job, his home, his friends, and the family that once called him son and brother.
“I had nowhere to go,” Joshua says, his voice trembling. “People I had taught, prayed with, and helped were now shouting at me, calling me a disgrace, a demon.” With threats looming over his safety, he fled Ada and went into hiding in the Eastern Region. The once hopeful educator began living from friend to friend, sleeping in corners, constantly looking over his shoulder. “I was living, but I wasn’t alive,” he admits.
Years have passed since that dark season, but the shadows still linger. Under intense pressure from extended family and societal expectations, Joshua agreed to marry a woman, a decision he says was the “last rope” he clung to in order to regain some social acceptance. He now has children, yet he still feels like an intruder in his own life. “Marriage hasn’t saved me,” he confesses. “It’s just a cover that keeps the persecution quiet.”
Behind closed doors, Joshua says he battles depression, anxiety, and a lingering sense of spiritual death. “People think I’m okay now because I’m married. But I cry myself to sleep most nights. I wish I were dead sometimes. That would be easier than pretending every single day.”
His words echo a haunting reality, one that many LGBTQ+ individuals face across communities where societal norms and religious doctrine clash with personal identity. For Joshua, love is not a luxury he seeks anymore, safety is. “I’m not asking for approval anymore. I just want to live somewhere I don’t have to lie to stay alive.”
Joshua is hoping that someday he will seek asylum, find refuge in a country that values freedom, human dignity, and identity without condition. “I don’t want my children to grow up thinking their father was weak or wicked. I want them to know I was brave enough to seek a life worth living; even if it’s far from home.”
His story is more than a personal plea; it’s a mirror held up to societies that silence people for being different. It’s a reminder that acceptance is not a gift but a right, and that no one should have to choose between love and life.
By Elvis Washington
