Walking into the event felt surreal like stepping into a long-awaited reunion. I was surrounded by faces I hadn’t seen in years, and others I’d only known through social media. It felt strangely familiar, like a high school reunion where you may not know everyone personally, yet you’ve followed their stories, their joys, their journey online.
“Absolutely! I found the event to be an affirming and fulfilling space. This was my first time attending and it meant everything to me. To be in a space where I did not have to compromise any part of my identity and could fully be myself was so freeing. And to connect with others who understand the very specific experience of being both habesha and queer was so empowering. Not to mention, it was so fun. I had the time of my life, truly!”
We were over a hundred queer Ethiopians and Eritreans gathered from all walks of life, united in our queerness and Ethiopian/Eritrean identities. Young and old. Religious and non-religious. Some of us exiled because of our identities. Others born in diaspora, and others who moved here for school or safety. Regardless of our differences, one thing brought us together: community. A desire to honor and celebrate the fullness of who we are, something our countries of origin continue to erase. We came just as we are, masc-centered women, femme men, cross-dressers, gender-nonconforming siblings. Every single one of us found space and safety in that room.
“The event was like a homecoming in a way I didn’t know I needed. A space where I can show up fully in both my identity as habesha and as queer. It was almost bittersweet—it makes my heart ache that I haven’t felt that sooner, but it is also just so sweet to be able to experience it.”
We honored each other through the rituals that have always held us: we shared coffee in a traditional ceremony. We feasted on injera and wot prepared by the loving hands of some of our own gay boys. The music was ours, unapologetically. Traditional sounds filled the air as we danced with our feet off. Under the rainbow flag held right and left, we moved in Eskista rhythm. Our feet soared during Guragigna songs, our hips swayed to the beats of Wolaita songs, we jumped with joy to Oromifaa songs and glided with grace in Tigrigna songs.
“Pride was a beautiful, joyful, emotional experience. Seeing how big this event has grown fills my heart with so much gratitude and joy. It’s proof that we aren’t alone — especially because so many of us have felt that alone at some point. I can’t wait for the next event 💛😊”
For me, It was more than a celebration. It was truly a reclamation. A statement. A resistance.
We talked too. We talked how to keep going, how to keep building, how to strengthen our community across borders. We made promises, shared visions, and dared to imagine more. And then, with laughter and a few happy tears, we cut a rainbow cake and officially welcomed Pride Month.
“It was so validating and joyful! I feel like I’ll never be able to adequately express my gratitude for Zega and all the queer Habesha organizers. I spent so long believing the intersection of my marginalized identities made it impossible to find community like this, so the opportunity to gather in person was so special. By the end of the night, I felt so buoyant and hopeful for the future seeing how many of us there were and how many unique and wonderful things everybody has accomplished.”
Until next year, my heart will continue dancing to the rhythms of resistance, hope, and love.
Cheers to us. Love truly won.
