Young Ethiopians are still exposed to discussions about homosexuality even if our society ignores the issue.

In the halls of my Christian school in Addis Ababa, sexuality is not discussed—let alone homosexuality. In that way, the school mirrors the country I live in. Ethiopia’s laws make same-sex relationships illegal, and public opinion remains strongly opposed. Conversations on the subject are rare, sensitive, and often avoided entirely.

Same-sex sexual activity is prohibited under the Criminal Code 2004, which criminalizes “homosexual or indecent acts” and carries a maximum penalty of one year imprisonment, even for consensual activity.

At my school, religion is at the core of everything we are taught. Adam and Eve are central to our discussions, while scientific concepts like evolution are left out entirely. Traditional values are woven into every lesson, and our teachers, often deeply religious, reinforce a worldview that leaves little room for questioning or exploring ideas beyond what is accepted.

My parents too, like many Ethiopian families, are deeply rooted in these traditions, and while their intentions are grounded in love and protection, they leave no space for conversations about topics like homosexuality.

I remember a family gathering where a cousin mentioned a mutual friend who had moved abroad and later came out as gay. The room fell silent, and then one relative angrily declared, “This is what happens when people move to the West, they lose their faith and forget their values.” Others nodded in agreement, echoing the sentiment.

For me, this was a moment of confusion. I didn’t know how to process what I was hearing or how I was supposed to feel. All I knew was that the anger in their voices came from a place of fear; a fear of what they didn’t understand or choose not to understand.

How often do we hear people say, “Look at the West! They started talking about it, and now everyone’s gay!” There’s this unspoken belief that discussing homosexuality could lead to it spreading, as if it’s a trend that people might suddenly adopt. But avoiding the topic doesn’t make it disappear; it just leaves us with more questions and less understanding.

In recent years, Ethiopia has seen police crackdowns on suspected same-sex activity, anti-LGBT protests led by religious and youth groups, and online campaigns targeting individuals. These actions paint a clear picture of how deeply entrenched resistance to homosexuality is in our society.

The church, our families, and our schools teach us values of kindness, respect, and treating others fairly. These are principles that are central to our culture and way of life. But when it comes to gay people, the conversation often stops before it even begins. The topic is avoided, dismissed, or met with judgment, creating an environment where meaningful discussion feels impossible.

When I see individuals on social media openly identifying as gay or lesbian, I can’t help but wonder why I rarely encounter such openness in my own country? Is it because people here feel compelled to suppress their identity, or is it because homosexuality is actually a “Western” concept, as my family and everyone in Ethiopia think they do?

For many, this issue may seem far from a national priority. Yet avoiding the discussion leaves us reacting with fear rather than with understanding.

These questions led me down a path of exploration and research. I wanted to understand whether being gay is something we are born with or something shaped by our environment and experiences. I decided to discuss this topic in my year-long synthesis class research project, and to my surprise, my teacher at this deeply Christian school approved it.

Criminalization to Research

In the 19th century, many countries criminalized same-sex relationships and classified them as illnesses. Ethiopia’s laws remain similar today. Globally, however, a turning point came in 1973, when the American Psychological Association removed homosexuality from its list of mental disorders—a decision that opened the door to more serious scientific inquiry.

One case often cited by scientists is that of Angus and Eric Woodward, identical twins from Australia. They share the same DNA and upbringing, yet Angus is heterosexual while Eric is gay. How can two people so alike end up so different? Their story has fuelled decades of research into whether sexual orientation is shaped by biology, environment, or both.

Large-scale genetic studies involving nearly half a million people have found no single “gay gene”. Instead, evidence suggests that sexual orientation is influenced by many genes working together, in combination with environmental and social factors such as upbringing, culture, and life experiences.

Scientists have also documented same-sex behavior in more than 450 animal species, from dolphins to giraffes, indicating it is not unique to humans.

Taken together, research suggests that biology may predispose someone toward same-sex attraction, but environmental influences such as family, peers, culture, and personal experiences also play a significant role. In fact, some studies argue that these social and environmental factors may account for more than half of the variation in sexual orientation.

Ethiopian Case

Ethiopia’s legal and cultural stance on sexuality remains unchanged. Yet social media, migration, and global pop culture mean the conversation will continue to surface. Young people encounter international debates daily, often without any local guidance on how to interpret them.

In the formal education system, discussions about sexuality, including sexual orientation and gender identity, are extremely limited. Most curricula focus on biological reproduction, HIV/AIDS, and general health education, leaving students with little reliable information or context.

Even in international schools, the conversation can be fraught. At Sanford, the British International School in Addis Ababa, a middle school teacher once included a textbook featuring same-sex parents, which sparked a major uproar from parents. Many parents who seek international education for their children struggle to reconcile global perspectives with local cultural norms, highlighting how far Ethiopia still is from openly engaging in these discussions.

As a result, many of us rely on social media or from peers to learn about these topics, navigating complex issues without structured support. If anything, the absence of structured, culturally contextualized education leaves space for social media to become the default teacher. Without culturally guided education, TikTok and Instagram don’t just spread information; they also set trends that many of us may feel pressured to follow—sometimes they are helpful, sometimes misleading.

This can lead some to experiment or adopt views without a clear understanding of what they truly feel or believe. With proper guidance rooted in local culture and values, however, we would have been better equipped to make informed decisions, rather than relying solely on global online currents that may distort our perceptions of LGBTQ+ issues and relationships.

Refusing to talk about it leaves reactions driven by emotion rather than reason. Discussion does not mean endorsement; it means facing reality with awareness and knowledge.

Whether shaped more by genetics or environment, experts agree: Sexual orientation is complex. Understanding that complexity, instead of reducing it to a single cause, is essential for any meaningful conversation, even, and perhaps especially, in societies that find the topic difficult to address.

Surprising Reception

“The rainbow behind the closets” is not just a metaphor. It reflects the reality of young Ethiopians navigating a world where homosexuality exists on their phones but is largely hidden at home.  

This piece is not about challenging our culture or laws, nor about personal identity, it is about creating a space where curiosity can exist safely, where questions can be asked, and where knowledge allows young people to think critically rather than react out of fear or imitation.

Refusing to talk about sexuality leaves reactions driven by emotion rather than reason; honest, culturally appropriate guidance allows for understanding, empathy, and informed decisions.

At the end of the year, I had the opportunity to present my research to hundreds of parents, students, and teachers. To my surprise, my presentation was not only accepted but also recognized; I was given the best speech award in my grade.

What struck me most, however, was that this conversation was allowed to happen at all, in a Christian school where I never imagined such a topic could be openly addressed.

My hope is that what began as a courageous step within the walls of my school will not remain there, but one day become a normal and accepted conversation in our homes, churches, and eventually, across Ethiopia. This possibility gives me and my generation hope that we can approach difficult topics with curiosity, respect, and understanding.

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While this commentary contains the author’s opinions, Ethiopia Insight will correct factual errors.

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