Naz and Matt Foundation

14/04/2026

Today is Naz's birthday. He would have been 46.

I won't pretend it's an easy day. It never is. The reminders are everywhere - of his life, his energy, everything he was and everything we were building together.

But here's what I know.

Since we started this Foundation in 2014, thousands of people have reached out to us. People whose own families have turned on them. People who've had to flee their homes when their sexuality or gender identity was discovered. People held hostage in their own bedrooms, cut off from friends, from the outside world. People physically abused. Mentally abused. Financially controlled. Some with threats against their lives from their parents, police or military in their own countries.

Every single one of them deserved better. And every single one of them found us - or we found them.

Last year alone, we supported 328 individuals through 551 support requests, many of them high risk.

We've grown from a campaigning organisation into a frontline support service. We provide safety. We provide guidance. We provide a space where people can meet others who truly understand what they're going through. And now, through our parent support group (Rainbow Chai) and our face-to-face groups, we're also walking alongside the families - helping parents find their way to acceptance.

It is an honour to do this work. It is also, honestly, exhausting. We now receive far more requests for help than we can respond to, and we're actively looking to bring new people into the team so we can reach more of the individuals and families who need us.

This work is necessary. This is the work that saves lives. This is the work that changes futures. And this is the work that creates hope - even when the political and global climate keeps trying to push us backwards.

So if you're reading this today, I want you to know something.

You are not alone. Help is available. Head to our website, click the support link, and reach out. We will get through this together.

Happy birthday, Naz. This one's for you 🩷

13/04/2026

For people the world over, displacement isn’t a choice. It's imposed upon them. For q***r people, this bind is even more complicated. To leave your home, family, culture, and community is the last option left, because home has become a place where existing puts you at risk. Leaving is an act of survival.

Then, the journey doesn’t end at the border. Many people spend months or years in systems that don’t understand their experiences, their identities or the danger they fled. Once they do finally arrive, safety is never immediate, and many face active hostility in their new environments. Home becomes something they have to rebuild piece by piece while navigating scrutiny and judgement alone.

We stand with anyone forced to cross borders because of who they are. No one should have to leave their home to stay alive. There are communities and organisations ready and waiting with open arms, no one should have to do this alone. Find help and support at and long term support and community . Reach out to us for further signposting and community.

11/04/2026

In family and faith centred cultures, such as in Jewish communities, staying close can sometimes mean shrinking and hiding yourself. For q***r people, love and obligation become tangled and difficult.

In a lot of Jewish families, closeness is not optional. It is built into everything: weekly calls, holidays, opinions, expectations. Family is a central pillar to one's life, and walking away from it often feels like an option for other people.

It can feel like there is no clean choice. Staying close can mean hiding and managing reactions, but though creating distance can mean relief it also carries so much guilt and grief.

So people find their own balance, often without a map. Maybe it is partial honesty or maybe it is stepping back and then returning in a different way. It is not simple, and it is not failure. It is trying to hold onto culture and self at the same time.

If you're feeling this tension and think there are no options for you - there are. Community is out there, there are so many people who understand exactly how you feel, and have wisdom and love to share with you. There are ways to compromise and find the shades of grey - you can have culture and family and also be who you are.

***rJewish ***rBelonging

06/04/2026

Forced or heavily pressured marriages in Hindu communities don’t come from scripture. They come from social expectations that prioritise family image over individual safety. For q***r people, that pressure can arrive early and without warning, framed as responsibility or tradition when it’s really about control. You've come home, there's a stranger in your living room, and you're being ushered into marriage by two families and the entire weight and pressure of community.

Inside the home, resistance is often met with worry about gossip, sometimes even caste expectations or the fear that an unmarried child will expose something the family isn’t ready to face. Many q***r Hindus learn to navigate conversations where the real issue is never named, yet the consequences feel immediate and personal.

If this is your reality, it isn’t a failure on your part. You’re responding to a system that was never designed with your life in mind. Safety planning matters, especially if conversations at home feel unpredictable or if you’re worried about being pushed into decisions you can’t consent to. Organisations like the Forced Marriage Unit, Karma Nirvana and offer confidential support and can help you think through your options without judgement. You deserve space to make choices that are yours, not choices made on your behalf.

***rhindus

04/04/2026

For many q***r Catholics, shame doesn't always begin with the doctrine - sometimes, it begins in the confessional. That tiny wooden box where you were meant to tell the truth is instead the first place you learned to lie about who you were. You rehearsed your “sins” before stepping in, not because you knew or even believed they were wrong, but because you knew the real story would change how the priest spoke to you.

There’s a particular horrifying ache that comes from being told your desires are “disordered” by someone who claims closeness to God, and who also taught you that God already knows your heart. You may have been asked to carefully examine your conscience for feelings you never chose to have. Or, tragically, to cringe away from tenderness and affection you may never have even acted on. To fear the possibility that your own body might betray you. It's a terrible rupture. And because Catholicism ties guilt to ritual - to incense, kneelers, the rhythm of Mass - the shame became sacramental too. It all becomes a big confusing painful tangle.

That shame was never yours. Your q***rness was never the thing that separated you from God! The fear placed between you and your own truth did that. The tangle can be undone, and it doesn't necessitate turning your face from culture. Healing doesn’t mean abandoning Catholicism, it simply means reclaiming it in a way that brings you closeness to your creator as a whole human being.

***rcatholics ***ringcatholicism ***rcatholiclove

31/03/2026

For many trans people from conservative faith backgrounds, being seen cannot yet be about announcing yourself. In these environments, visibility often happens in small, intentional ways: it might be a nickname that feels closer to who you are, or clothing that might read neutral to others but feels like alignment to you. It might be choosing a prayer spot that sits just a little nearer to where your true gender prays, or using the right bathroom when you know you're alone. These acts are small moments of visibility and self-recognition, and they are important. Being visible to the people who know the real you, even if it’s only a few (or just you!) is still powerful and important.

Let us be clear though - visibility is a privilege. Not all of us have access to visibility yet. For those of us who do, we thank you for your bravery. For those of us who don't, your transness is no less just because you're not able to be seen as who you are. You know it, and that makes it true. It doesn't alleviate the pain, but it is something to hold on to.

Happy Trans Day of Visibility

21/03/2026

Eid is a day (or days!) of joy and nourishment, of reunion and prayer and celebration. We gather as families, neighbours and whole communities. For many q***r Muslims though, Eid carries another layer -there is the celebration you show up to, and the truth of your whole self that you hide. Maybe you’ve stood in the prayer line feeling both hopeful but also deeply unseen, or you’ve walked into a family gathering reminding yourself which parts of you you need to hide. Or maybe you’ve broken fasts with people you love, knowing they don’t know all of you. Maybe you’ve spent Eid alone because home wasn’t safe enough to return to.

Well, q***r Muslims have always existed. So our traditions have too. Eid can look a million different ways, and it's valid and lovely whether its loud or quiet, shared or solitary, traditional or totally new. For those of us still living in total fear or isolation, just know that there are whole groups of people out there just like you, who today (or perhaps yesterday or Sunday...) are eating in community, wearing their best clothes and holding hands with their partners with ease and comfort. That is possible for you too. Community exists for you too, with all of the wonder and joy that comes with it.

For now, wherever you’re spending Eid, however you’re holding your truth, you are not alone. Eid Mubarak!

DM us or reach out to or to discover UK-based celebrations!

***rmuslims

15/03/2026

This post, along with all the others like it, are written by one of our staff - by me! I won't give my name, for the very reasons I'm writing this post.

Before Ramadan began, I planned to introduce myself through a post about Ramadan, faith, and the way I am learning to engage with spirituality again as a q***r person who grew up Muslim. I had written my reflections and prepared a drawing of myself that looked enough like me that you might recognise me if you knew me, but not too much. I felt proud of what I had written.

When the moment came, I realised I did not feel safe. I thought I did, I thought I was 'beyond' it - but I'm not. It's not really up to me. The fear was of course about being recognised by people who know me, and about the consequences that recognition could create for my family. Some of my relatives support me unwaveringly, but many of the wider family system would see my q***rness as an embarrassment. I could hear their voices in my head - and not just from my family, but the whole weight of the communities I and my family move in. I thought I had prepared myself for that possibility, but I had not fully considered what it might mean for my mother. I imagined the whispered comments that might follow her, the way judgement attaches itself specifically to women, the way her parenting and personhood might be attacked or commented on. Even if I could manage the fallout, she might be the one who carried it.

This decision made me think about everyone who has to remain anonymous to stay safe. People who blur their faces, use initials, or avoid showing their bodies online because the risk is too high. People in my mother’s homeland, in Pakistan, who may never have the freedom to live a fully embodied life offline. Not because they lack courage, but because the structures around them do not allow it. Anonymity protects us, but it also shapes us cruelly. It asks us to measure every word and to hold parts of ourselves back. It keeps us alive but it also keeps us hidden.

10/03/2026

"Imagine experiencing violence for being LGBTQI+ in your home country and fleeing to the UK hoping to find safety, only to be told that your country is deemed safe for everyone and you’ll be sent straight back. It’s utterly cruel."

- first published 09/01/2024

Instead, this government will try to immediately return them to those countries without a proper assessment of whether it is safe for them. But these

09/03/2026

Across traditions, discipline is meant to bring us closer to compassion, clarity, and the sacred. But many q***r people of faith, and in this case particularly q***r Christians, were taught a different version - discipline meant suppressing who we are. Some fasted their q***rness, or prayed for their bodies and desires to change. Some learned to monitor every gesture and hint of want. To be holy or sacred meant to do away with ourselves.

But! It doesn't have to be this way. Reclaiming discipline as a form of devotion is possible. Choosing practices that honour your body, its' strength and capacity, its' endurance and ability to abstain from food and addiction whilst remaining a full and whole person. You don't have to fast from yourSELF in order to be disciplined or devoted.

Reclaiming discipline is an act of resistance and tenderness. It’s choosing practices that nourish instead of punish, letting your body be a site of joy, not fear. Letting your q***rness be part of your spirituality, not something to exile or let go of.

Share this if you’re rebuilding a spiritual life that doesn’t ask you to erase yourself.

***rChristians ***rChristianity

23/02/2026

Ramadan and Lent are important times for many people of faith. For q***r Muslims and q***r Christians, these seasons can bring up mixed experiences, especially when faith spaces have not always felt safe or welcoming.

Both traditions involve discipline, hunger or abstinence in the name of something bigger, community and a return to God. We can find comfort in knowing that others across different faiths are moving through something that feels familiar. Shared practices can make it easier to feel connected rather than isolated.

Across faiths, q***r people often build community in practical ways. Sharing food, checking in on each other, or simply knowing someone else understands the intersections of faith and identity can make a real difference.

If you’re observing Ramadan, Lent or both, we hope you have people around you who respect your whole self. If you’re looking for community, reaching out to someone you trust can be a good first step.

***rMuslim ***rChristian ***rFaith

16/02/2026

Ramadan means different things for different q***r Muslims. For some it’s a grounding month of return. For others it’s extremely complicated, tender, or full of mixed feelings. However you observe - or don’t! - your experience is valid.

Ramadan can create a strong sense of connection. Millions of people across the world observing at the same time, experiencing the same hunger and sense of discipline, all in the service and love of something greater. For many q***r Muslims, that grounding feeling also exists alongside something complicated - being part of something so big and meaningful, while also knowing that your place in it isn’t always recognised or welcomed in the same way as others. However - our relationships with God are our own. No one and nothing can take that from you.

If this month brings joy, we celebrate that with you. If it brings challenge, you’re not alone. You belong in this month and in this community.

Ramadan Mubarak from all of us at Naz and Matt Foundation. We hope this month is full of blessings and ease.

***rMuslims