A detailed reflection on the gaps participants identified, the ideas put forward for further development and the beginning of the care-plan design process at the co-designing workshop
Project Ajosepo Ilera ati Asa | Think Positive Live Positive Support Initiative (TPLPI)
27 August 2026 | Wave Academy, Yaba, Lagos
When the incident is over, the aftermath is not
For many queer people, “kito” is not just a word. It is a word that can carry fear, humiliation, violence, financial loss, outing, blackmail and the feeling that a situation that looked ordinary can suddenly become dangerous.
A person can think they are going to meet someone, discuss a job, pursue a relationship, handle a business matter or simply connect with another person. Then, without warning, the situation changes.
The immediate danger may eventually end. But that does not mean the survivor is automatically okay.
Sometimes the phone that was taken is gone, but the fear of receiving an unknown call remains. The money stolen may be replaceable, but the disruption to school, rent, work or daily life may not be easy to repair. A person may leave the location where they were harmed and still carry the incident with them through nightmares, sudden triggers, shame, distrust or anxiety.
This is the part of the conversation that often receives less attention: what happens after survival?
For readers unfamiliar with the term, KITO is used here to describe situations in which someone is lured or entrapped and then subjected to violence, extortion, robbery or threats of exposure because of their actual or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity.
On Thursday, 27 August 2026, Think Positive Live Positive Support Initiative (TPLPI), through Project Ajosepo Ilera ati Asa, brought together community organisations, mental health and psychosocial support providers, human rights actors, government representatives, independent advocates, survivors and TPLPI staff at Wave Academy, Yaba, Lagos.
The purpose was not simply to talk about KITO.
It was to sit together and begin co-designing a practical, survivor-centred post-incident care plan, one that recognises that survivors need more than an emergency response.
Creating a room where people could speak
The first step was creating the kind of room in which difficult conversations could happen.
Participants introduced themselves using their names or preferred names, organisational affiliations and pronouns where applicable. The room brought together different kinds of experience: community workers, advocates, service providers, institutional actors and people with lived experience of KITO.
The workshop was grounded in TPLPI’s previous research with KITO survivors and people who support affected community members. The notes record that approximately 45 survivors and stakeholders or service providers were engaged in the research, which explored the psychological, social, economic and other consequences of KITO incidents.
One of the recommendations from that work was the development of a community post-incident care plan.
The research therefore became a starting point for the room.
This connected the research to the task of co-design: considering what those findings meant for the support a survivor should be able to receive.
Participants were asked to think about the human realities behind the findings the ways an ordinary interaction can become an incident of entrapment, violence, extortion or exposure, and what that can do to a person long after the incident itself.
One of the clearest messages from the workshop was that KITO does not create just one problem. A survivor may need several kinds of help at the same time. These experiences show why KITO cannot be treated only as an isolated criminal or security incident. Post-incident care has to meet the survivor where they are.
Availability is not the same as safety
The discussion made one thing clear: availability is not the same as accessibility, and accessibility is not the same as safety. Being LGBTQI+ inclusive cannot simply exist in a policy document. It has to be visible in everyday interactions in the language providers use, how they protect confidentiality, how they respond to survivors and, most importantly, whether people feel safe enough to come back.
For some, there is the additional danger of being outed whether their sexual orientation, gender identity or health information is exposed.
And outing can have consequences of its own.
It can lead to family rejection, religious pressure, forced “deliverance”, attempts at conversion-related practices, loss of housing, displacement or serious safety concerns.
The effects can also reach work, school, relationships and everyday functioning.
The discussion also made one thing clear: availability is not the same as accessibility, and accessibility is not the same as safety. Being LGBTQI+ inclusive cannot simply exist in a policy document. It has to be visible in everyday interactions in the language providers use, how they protect confidentiality, how they respond to survivors and, most importantly, whether people feel safe enough to come back.
That is why the idea of “just get counselling” is not enough.
A survivor may need therapy, but they may also need transport, emergency accommodation, medical care, legal support, financial assistance, help recovering documents, livelihood support or someone they trust to stay with them while they figure out what comes next.
The stories in the room made the gaps impossible to ignore
The workshop also made space for lived experiences.
One survivor described experiencing KITO on three different occasions. The third incident, which happened while he was in his final year at school, was particularly serious. He had travelled to Lagos to meet someone he believed was a lawyer. The situation became an organised robbery and assault in which his money and belongings were taken, including resources connected to his education.
He attempted to seek redress through the police and also approached his bank, but the responses he received did not provide the support he needed. Because he depended on his parents and could not safely explain the circumstances, he felt he had no one with whom he could fully share what had happened.
The same survivor also described a separate experience in which police officers searched his device, discovered private conversations or images and exposed his sexual orientation to a close family member. What followed included family pressure, religious “deliverance” and attempts at conversion-related practices.
This account brings the need for connected support into focus: financial loss, disrupted education and threats to privacy can occur together. A care plan needs to account for that overlap.
Availability is not the same as safety
Mental health support came up repeatedly during the workshop. Participants spoke openly about how difficult it can be for survivors to find psychological support, even when services are available.
One participant captured the challenge simply: “Knowing that a service exists does not mean I know how to access it.”
The conversation soon moved beyond availability to something deeper: trust.
Survivors may hesitate to seek help because they are afraid of being judged, misgendered, outed or having their private information shared. As one participant noted, “If I don’t feel safe telling you my story, how can you help me?”
Concerns around confidentiality were particularly strong. Participants discussed experiences of information being mishandled and unsafe professional conduct, including an account in which a person’s HIV status was allegedly disclosed to their partner by someone connected to a service organisation.
For someone who has already experienced outing or exposure, this can have a lasting impact.
“Once trust is broken, it is difficult to ask for help again,” one participant shared.
The mental health psychologist from Tiers reminded participants that healing does not happen overnight, saying, “Healing is a journey.”
The Executive Director also encouraged participants to see support as something that should not be carried alone: “We do not need to seek help/health alone.”
The workshop also highlighted the specific barriers faced by trans survivors. Participants shared experiences of service providers using inappropriate language, asking insensitive questions about gender, and creating environments where transgender clients did not feel respected.
As one participant put it, “Sometimes, you enter a place looking for help and leave feeling more hurt.”
The discussion made one thing clear: availability is not the same as accessibility, and accessibility is not the same as safety.
Being LGBTQI+ inclusive cannot simply exist in a policy document. It has to be visible in everyday interactions in the language providers use, how they protect confidentiality, how they respond to survivors and, most importantly, whether people feel safe enough to come back.
Support should begin without blame
Victim-blaming is one of the easiest ways to make an already painful experience worse.
Why did you go there?
Why did you meet the person?
Why did you trust them?
Why didn’t you know?
Why didn’t you leave earlier?
Questions like these can make survivors feel as though the responsibility for what happened belongs to them.
The workshop recognised guilt and shame as recurring burdens.
And so, the workshop began to map out the people and systems that may need to surround a survivor.
No single person or organisation can provide everything.
That is why referral pathways matter.
If a survivor tells a counsellor that they have nowhere safe to sleep, the response should not end with another counselling appointment. The counsellor needs somewhere safe to refer them.
If someone arrives at a health service after an assault and also needs legal assistance, the health service needs a trusted pathway to legal support.
If someone loses their income or transportation after an incident, recovery may require economic assistance as well as emotional support.
The first 72 hours can change everything
One of the strongest themes from Day 1 was the critical first approximately 72 hours after a KITO incident.
This is often the period when a survivor is most distressed, confused and vulnerable yet it can also be the period when support becomes most complicated by paperwork, referrals and administrative processes.
And the first person a survivor contacts may not be a formal service provider.
It could be a friend.
❤️ A lover.
💜 A peer.
🧡 An activist.
💚 A community organisation.
💕 Someone who simply answers the phone.
That first contact matters.
The workshop therefore emphasised the need for low-barrier, practical and responsive support during the immediate aftermath.
The support needs and ideas identified and proposed
Needs identified
The discussion highlighted the need for:
Emergency financial assistance.
Safe or temporary housing.
Accessible mental health and psychosocial support.
Trauma-informed healthcare.
Legal and human rights support.
Livelihood and economic recovery support.
Solutions proposed
Participants discussed ways to connect survivors with that support and make services more accountable:
Clear referral pathways and peer navigation.
A directory of vetted providers and organisations.
A paralegal toolkit and safety frameworks.
Monitoring and safeguarding mechanisms.
Research and policy advocacy.
Some of the ideas captured in the workshop notes, including a vetted provider directory, a paralegal toolkit and safety frameworks, were identified as proposals requiring further validation through Day 2 and subsequent workshop outputs rather than final commitments.
From proposals to a usable care plan
The next stage described here was further validation through Day 2 and subsequent outputs. To make the eventual plan useful, that work will need to clarify how survivors can access support, which organisations can provide it, how referrals protect confidentiality and who follows up. These are questions for the plan to resolve, rather than confirmed arrangements reported in this reflection.
The value of this work will be felt in what happens when someone reaches out: whether they are listened to, whether they can access the support they need and whether someone checks that the referral actually helped.
For organisations and service providers reading this, one practical place to begin is to review what happens after a referral. Is there a clear, confidential way to find out whether the survivor received support, with their consent? That question can help turn the idea of a circle of care into an everyday practice.
Workshop photos and highlights are available in the linked Instagram post.
