Word Activism
How I pressurised my words and proved my case
In mid-April 2023, I decided to apply for refugee protection in Canada as a trans person from so-called Costa Rica. One of the first steps I had to take was to find an immigration lawyer willing to represent me. Earlier that month, I had contacted the Rainbow Refugee Society, an organization dedicated to supporting LGBTQ+ individuals throughout their refugee process, and they provided me with a comprehensive list of names, phone numbers, and emails. I felt nervous, but also happy; it looked like I was off to a good start.
So, full of optimism, I started making phone calls. The first call went something like this:
— Hello, my name is Adri, I’m a trans person applying for refugee status, and I’m looking for a lawyer. Are you taking new cases?
— Sure, where are you originally from?
— Costa Rica.
— Oh, well, Costa Rica is considered a safe country for LGBTQ+ people, so this is a case we wouldn’t be willing to take. Best of luck. [click]
That was a bit discouraging, but I still had that long list. I composed myself and called the second one. I won’t copy that conversation, because it was pretty much the same. I called the second one, the third one, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth… None of them wanted to take my case because so-called Costa Rica is generally considered to be friendly towards LGBTQ+ people.
The thing is, I knew how deeply wrong that was. I lived in that country for nearly 40 years. I experienced its culture firsthand. I lived in fear, hiding deep in the closet, not even knowing my true identity. I knew it wasn’t LGBTQ+ friendly and how specifically hostile it was toward gender-diverse and trans people, a group whose population’s average life expectancy doesn’t even reach 35 years. But no one cared. All the lawyers seemed concerned only with handling straightforward cases they could win without much hassle.
I contacted the Rainbow Refugee Society again, and they gave me another contact. It was a law firm known for handling complex cases, and a lawyer who was actually a gender-diverse person themself. I called them, and for the first time, I didn’t get a ‘no’ for an answer. We scheduled an online meeting for the following day.
The meeting started positively. The lawyer told me they would be willing to take my case, but things began to deteriorate after that. They said they viewed my case as very difficult and that the process would be extremely challenging. They strongly recommended I explore other options to stay in Canada, such as economic immigration, where I would have a much better chance of success. They also explained how the refugee application process is very stressful, emotionally draining, and invasive, which I would have to endure for only a slim chance of success. They asked me to consider it and let them know if I still wanted to proceed despite their warnings. We ended the call, and I felt very discouraged once again.
I did think about it for the rest of the day. I reflected on my main goal: staying in an environment that’s safe for me and my family. But that wasn’t the whole story. I also wanted to denounce this country. I needed to make it clear that it’s not as safe a place as they claim it to be. I wanted to disrupt that status quo and highlight the hundreds of deaths, unmitigated systemic violence, and neglect for an oppressed population that nobody seems to care about. If I chose the “easier route” of economic immigration, I would just be another immigrant — someone seeking a new place. But that wasn’t my reality. I wanted to stay in Canada because the culture I come from is hostile towards me.
It is not the same: being an immigrant, being a refugee. Of course, both are full of challenges, legal, cultural, emotional, but I wanted to make it very evident I was the latter. That my immigration status was not chosen but imposed because of violence and hate.
So I decided to take the hard route. I wanted to document my oppression. I wanted to pressurise my words.
The next day, I had another meeting, this time face-to-face. Once more, the lawyer insisted that my best option was to explore alternatives, but I was firm. I knew how violent so-called Costa Rica was against trans people, how they die in misery, and when they get news coverage it’s always sensationalized, misgendered, and for shock value. I knew this was the reality, even if no one believed me, and despite many people’s advice, I was determined to prove it.
Over the next year and a half, I searched thoroughly for every piece of information about violence against trans people in so-called Costa Rica. In the end, I gathered over 300 pages of evidence, including academic articles, reports, news stories, videos, documentaries, and social media posts, dating back to 2012 (unfortunately, I cannot share my evidence publicly, but I have compiled all my sources online). The last meeting I had with my lawyer, a few weeks before my hearing, had a completely different tone. They told me how confident they were that my case would be approved and reassured me not to worry.
Six months later, my case was approved without an audience, solely based on the written evidence we presented. I documented my oppression and set the precedent: this country has been proven to be hostile against trans people, no matter how they try to mask it.
Now I am a refugee. I am forbidden from ever returning to the land where I was born and raised as a child. A place where I should be welcomed, but I am not. I have no passport and cannot interact with the government.However, I can now speak out against it. That this so-called safe space is not safe. I am not an immigrant; I am a refugee. I have discovered the power of activism through the pressurised words of my documented oppression.
About the author
An expatriate from the ancestral land of the Huetar people. Descendant of the few who survived and the colonizers who enslaved them, murdered them and stole their land, their culture and their name.
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