How a transgender tobacco farmer in Zimbabwe is fighting for dignity

In a rural area around 250 kilometres from Zimbabwe’s capital Harare, Kevin (real name kept anonymous for safety), a transgender man, is rebuilding his life through tobacco farming. In a country where LGBTIQ+ people face discrimination, criminalisation and social exclusion, cultivating a high-value cash crop has given Kevin something he had long been denied: economic stability and recognition.

Gender rights organisations report high levels of anxiety, depression and suicidal thinking within the community, often driven by family rejection and economic exclusion. For Kevin, relocating to a rural region in 2024 was a strategic decision. Living in urban areas had exposed him to daily discrimination linked to his gender identity, limiting both employment opportunities and personal safety.

“I needed a way to survive that didn’t depend on someone else’s approval. People think we have nothing to contribute except sex, forgetting that we can work and contribute to the economy like anyone else,” he says. Tobacco farming offered that opportunity because it operates largely within Zimbabwe’s formal economy. Unlike maize or vegetables, which are commonly sold through informal markets vulnerable to exploitation, tobacco is regulated and sold through licensed auction floors or contract farming systems.

By obtaining a grower’s licence from Zimbabwe’s Tobacco Industry and Marketing Board (TIMB), Kevin was able to sell his crop directly. “Before, someone else sold my tobacco for me and claimed the prices were low or payments were delayed,” he says. “Now I sell it myself, and I can also access contracts to grow tobacco from companies.” 

“Queer people are the first to be excluded from community support”

This formal system provides a crucial layer of protection. At auction floors, tobacco is graded according to quality, not the farmer’s identity. “The auction floor doesn’t care about my gender; it cares about the grade of my leaf. For the first time, I am officially recognised as a farmer,” Kevin says. That recognition means bargaining power, predictable income and access to inputs and contracts – forms of stability that are rarely available to LGBTIQ+ people in informal sectors.

However, tobacco farming is capital-intensive and increasingly affected by climate change. Kevin’s first season was marked by delayed rains and a lack of infrastructure such as curing barns. To manage these challenges, he joined Mother’s Haven, a rural initiative formed by queer women and transgender men.

Tsitsi Chiwa, director of Mother’s Haven, says the initiative emerged as climate shocks reduced rural livelihoods.“When resources become scarce because of drought, queer people are the first to be excluded from community support,” she says. “Agriculture, especially high-value crops like tobacco, became a way to secure our own income and build safety nets.” Through the initiative, members pool resources for fertiliser and firewood, reducing individual risk. Still, visibility in rural areas remains dangerous.

Teddy Munyimani, programmes manager at Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe (GALZ), adds that young queer people face higher risks of anxiety, depression, trauma and low self-worth, particularly when they return to family or community environments that are not emotionally safe. “Many experience isolation, enforced silence and pressure to suppress their identity,” he says.

Lungelo Ndhlovu is a freelance journalist based in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe.
ndlovu.lungelo@gmail.com