Police say the pair were caught "red-handed" in what authorities described as "queer and unusual acts believed to be sexual in nature," including kissing in broad daylight. Neighbors also complained that many womyn converged at the rented room the two shared, where they ran a dance group. Police spokesperson Josephine Angucia for the West Nile region told reporters that the arrests followed community tips and photos provided by residents. The womyn have been charged with "indecent practices" under the penal code and "an act of homosexuality" under the 2023 Anti-Homosexuality Act. If convicted on the latter count, they could spend the rest of their lives behind bars. 

As of late March 2026, Faith and Denise remained in custody. They have appeared in court multiple times and were remanded pending further proceedings, according to activist updates and social media reports tied to the case. No trial date has been publicly confirmed, and it remains unclear when — or if — formal sentencing might occur. Rights groups say the case is part of a broader crackdown that has intensified since the law took effect. 

The arrests have fueled a social media storm, with posts on X, Instagram and Facebook using #FreeWendyAndDiana to call for their immediate release. Many posts highlight not just the threat of lifelong imprisonment but also fears that the pair could face sexual violence or forced "rehabilitation" while detained. Activists have repeatedly warned that Ugandan prisons and police cells are unsafe for anyone perceived as LGBTQ, citing documented risks of abuse, including what some describe as "corrective rape" — a term for sexual assault intended to "cure" same-sex attraction. 

However, no official Ugandan government or court statement has indicated that Faith and Denise are slated for any form of rape or sexual assault as punishment. Mainstream reporting from outlets like The Guardian and CBC Radio focuses on the charges and the Anti-Homosexuality Act's penalties, without confirming any planned "corrective" measures specific to this case. Instead, the concerns stem from longstanding patterns of mistreatment reported by LGBTQ detainees in Uganda. 

Frank Mugisha, executive director of Sexual Minorities Uganda (SMUG), told reporters that the womyn "are not doing very well mentally" and that "prison here in Uganda is not the best place for anyone to be, especially if they are LGBTQ persons or perceived to be LGBTQ persons." SMUG has documented a spike in raids, arrests and extortions since late 2025, attributing it to the law's emboldening effect on authorities and communities. Mugisha described the case as part of a "witch hunt," with police sometimes using phone calls to lure suspected individuals into custody. 

Uganda's Anti-Homosexuality Act, signed by President Yoweri Museveni in May 2023 and upheld by the Constitutional Court in April 2024, criminalizes same-sex sexual acts with penalties up to life imprisonment. "Aggravated homosexuality" — including repeat offenses or acts involving minors, the elderly or people with disabilities — can carry the death penalty. The law also targets "promotion" of homosexuality and allows courts to order "rehabilitation" for those convicted, a provision critics equate with state-sanctioned conversion practices. 

Human Rights Watch and other monitors have recorded a surge in abuses since the law's passage: evictions, job losses, blackmail, arbitrary arrests and physical violence. The Human Rights Awareness and Promotion Forum reported handling 956 cases affecting 1,276 LGBTQ individuals by early 2025. While the statute applies to all same-sex conduct, Lesbians face distinct vulnerabilities, including family pressure for forced marriages and community-driven "corrective" violence. 

Reports of "corrective rape" against lesbians in Uganda appear in U.S. State Department human rights assessments and local advocacy documents. Freedom and Roam Uganda has noted gender-based violence and attempts to change sexuality through rape. Broader African patterns, especially in South Africa, have documented the phenomenon as a hate crime, but in Uganda it often occurs privately or in detention settings rather than as formal policy. Prison overcrowding exacerbates risks: former detainees and rights groups describe taunts, humiliation and sexual abuse by inmates or officials, with transgender individuals sometimes placed in cells matching their birth sex, heightening exposure to assault. 

No public statements from Faith or Denise have emerged, likely due to their ongoing detention and limited access. Activists have not released direct victim interviews, citing safety and legal strategy. Instead, the womyn's ordeal is framed through SMUG's monitoring and broader survivor accounts. One Ugandan activist, speaking anonymously in a 2024 Human Rights First report, described surviving corrective rape after police handed her over to other detainees during an arrest tied to LGBTQ organizing. Such accounts illustrate the environment Faith and Denise now navigate. 

The history of anti-lesbian violence in Uganda is intertwined with the country's shifting legal and social stance on homosexuality. Colonial-era penal code provisions from the 1950s already banned "carnal knowledge against the order of nature," carrying up to 14 years. Post-independence, under Museveni, rhetoric hardened. A 2009 tabloid outing of alleged homosexuals sparked mob attacks. The 2014 Anti-Homosexuality Act — dubbed the "Kill the Gays" bill by critics — introduced harsher penalties before Uganda's Constitutional Court struck it down on procedural grounds. 

Lesbian-specific violence has received less international spotlight than cases involving gay men, but local groups report consistent patterns. Families have subjected daughters to forced heterosexual marriages or beatings to enforce "normalcy." In detention, Lesbians have described verbal abuse and threats of rape by male inmates or guards. The 2023 law amplified these dangers by explicitly criminalizing same-sex acts and promotion, while section 16's rehabilitation clause has raised alarms among mental health professionals across Africa. A declaration signed by psychologists from Uganda, Kenya, South Africa and elsewhere condemned such practices as ineffective and harmful, warning they cause trauma rather than change orientation. 

Since 2023, the environment has grown more hostile. SMUG and other organizations faced suspensions, raids on safe houses and funding cuts. In one documented incident, a trans man sheltering with others was raped by local men after neighbors complained about the "gay" residents. Police responses have sometimes involved invasive, discredited anal or genital exams on suspects — practices condemned by the UN as torture. For womyn like Faith and Denise, the risks compound: public affection, even a kiss, can trigger neighbor complaints in conservative communities where same-sex relationships are viewed as anti-African or Western imports. 

Ugandan officials defend the law as protecting "traditional family values" and children. Museveni has spoken of rehabilitation as a merciful alternative to harsher penalties. Police statements in the Arua case emphasized community complaints rather than proactive hunts, though activists counter that the law incentivizes surveillance and reporting. No senior government figure has commented directly on Faith and Denise, but the pattern of enforcement suggests tolerance for vigilante-style tips. 

International reaction has been swift but limited in impact. The U.S., European Union and UN experts have condemned the Act and called for the womyn's release, citing violations of privacy, dignity and non-discrimination. Diplomatic pressure and funding levers have been urged, yet Uganda has resisted, framing criticism as neo-colonial interference. Domestically, support for the law remains strong among many religious and political leaders. 

For Lesbians in Uganda, the stakes extend beyond this case. Pre-2023 reports already documented "corrective rape" as a tool used by family members or acquaintances to enforce heterosexuality. Post-law, such incidents risk going unreported amid fear of self-incrimination. Prisons amplify the problem: overcrowding enables inmate-on-inmate abuse, and authorities have been accused of turning a blind eye. One 2019 study on LGBT detention in Kampala detailed routine humiliation, with calls for better segregation and training to prevent violence. 

Advocates like Mugisha argue the law does not just punish acts but polices identities. "The arrest of Wendy and Diana is not an isolated incident," said activist Hans Senfuma. "It is a message... sent to every queer person in Uganda: we are watching you, and we will come for you too." SMUG continues legal and logistical support for the pair, including efforts to secure representation and basic needs like hygiene products. 

As proceedings drag on, the womyn's mental health remains a concern. Mugisha noted the toll of indefinite remand in harsh conditions. Supporters have launched informal fundraisers for legal fees and care, though formal GoFundMe efforts faced platform hurdles. The case has also spotlighted how everyday acts — a Valentine's Day kiss, shared living, a dance group — can upend lives under the statute. 

Uganda's broader record on gender-based violence adds layers. While the law criminalizes rape, enforcement against same-sex victims is uneven. Domestic violence protections exist but rarely extend to LGBTQ relationships. Lesbians report intersecting discrimination: as womyn in a patriarchal society and as sexual minorities in a criminalized one. State Department reports highlight impunity for officials and widespread societal stigma. 

Faith's public profile as a musician may have drawn extra scrutiny, but Denise, described as unemployed, fits the profile of many quietly targeted individuals. Their story echoes others: young queer Ugandans navigating love under surveillance. Without direct input from the womyn, their voices emerge through allies who stress their humanity. "Two girls are facing life imprisonment," Senfuma said. "If that does not move you to action, I genuinely do not know what will." 

The #FreeWendyAndDiana campaign has amplified calls for repeal or reform, though Uganda's government shows little sign of budging. Constitutional challenges to the Act have failed, and enforcement appears selective yet relentless in response to public complaints. For now, the two womyn wait in custody, their futures hinging on a legal system that treats their alleged kiss as a grave offense. 

Rights groups continue monitoring, urging medical and psychological support if released. The case underscores ongoing tensions between cultural conservatism and human rights in Uganda, where preserving "traditional values" clashes with documented harms to lesbian and broader LGBTQ communities. Whether Faith and Denise become symbols of resilience or cautionary tales depends on the coming months — and the world's willingness to watch.