Why data is the key to protecting marginalised communities

Eric Ndawula is an advocate for the Data Values Project and the Data Values Manifesto, supported by the UN Foundation’s Global Partnership for Sustainable Development Data. He is also the executive director of Lifeline Empowerment Center in Kampala, Uganda.

This year, my country, Uganda, hit the headlines for unsavoury reasons. Parliament presented and approved a law which creates the most dangerous environment for queer people in the world. While queer communities have never been safe, this law struck fear into our hearts. What would this mean for the way we live our daily lives? How could our own government, which is meant to protect us, threaten us with death, just for existing?

One might think that our immediate reaction would be to hide – to do everything we can to protect ourselves and submit to the demands of our government. But no, we have stayed. Don’t get me wrong, not because we are not threatened by the Act - it is simply because we're here to make our stories heard and put faces to the narratives because we know there is no freedom unless we actively seek for it ourselves.

This is a principle which rings true across many aspects of our lives, including how data is collected and analysed. In Uganda, there is no official recognition of queer people, and as a result, queer issues are completely ignored, or even made worse. The lack of official data creates an impossible choice of invisibility or putting ourselves in life-threatening scenarios.

That’s why it’s up to us to ensure that we are not erased. The grassroots queer community in Uganda is not letting itself be ignored. We work together to promote data-driven interventions to fight injustice and inequality for every queer person. We do this collectively in the Convening For Equality project, which centres community voices in response to the push back from the law and anti-queer groups.

But the collection of this data does not come without risks. In 2009 hard copies of vital and vulnerable data, including home addresses, phone numbers, and email addresses of queer individuals, leaked in a national newspaper. This led to a witch hunt by the media which printed photographs and addresses of these individuals with a call: “Kill them, they are after our children.” In a country where the government is vehemently against us, we understand that this puts us in danger, even in our own homes or places of work.

The risk does not stop there. The media environment in Uganda is also a culprit in the spread of non-objective information, with outlets publishing private information obtained through illegal methods – for the sole purpose of promoting their anti-queer agenda. This has continued to be evident in the host of opinion shows which discuss queer issues but neglects to consult or engage queer people.

But, how do we go forward? Not collecting data means that we do not exist in the eyes of many, and collecting data seemingly puts us at risk of extreme violence. Well, the only way forward is to keep going. While the government has pushed so many political sentiments and religious rhetoric is consumed by its aimless anti-queer agenda, it falls on the shoulders of organisations, nonprofits, and other courageous individuals to advocate for policies which protect vulnerable communities and their data. Beyond this, we must ensure that the data does not go to waste, and is instead used to further protections and combat perpetual dangers facing our community, such as the spread of HIV and the reluctance to report crimes such as sexual abuse.

The lessons we can learn from the situation facing the queer community in Uganda is this: we must see organisations and non-profits creating a culture of transparency, data sharing, and use. All leaders must invest in strengthening cultures of data use and re-use, ensuring that the needs of diverse communities across the world are met and that no one is left behind in a world that is becoming more and more data-centric. Repeated positive experiences of regulating, sharing, and using data for public good builds trust between communities and those who handle their data.

Being invisible in data benefits no one. Our voices must be heard and our existence, at the very least, must be recognised. Without the power that data enables, it only makes it harder for anyone to seek help where necessary, and thrive in everyday life.