The QPoC Peer Support Group, which meets at Outhouse, has celebrated its first anniversary, a significant milestone in the group’s history. As the group marks this milestone, organiser Pradeep Mahadeshwar reflects on the importance of having safe spaces for queer people of colour in Ireland.

This past year has been a reminder of the importance of community and the courage it takes for queer people of colour (QPoC) in Ireland to show up for themselves and one another. It also demonstrates how established organisations can make a difference in migrant communities by sharing knowledge and infrastructure.

The day-to-day experiences of queer people of colour in Ireland are distinct. They cannot be ignored in surface-level conversations about “inclusion,” “diversity,” or “equal opportunity.” Equality does not mean sameness. We are not the same as the queer white Irish people born and raised here. Our experiences and histories abroad and in Ireland are different. There is a beautiful dignity in that difference. What QPoC in Ireland need is not symbolic inclusion, but social and cultural structures that recognise and support us fully, without erasure. At the QPoC Peer Support Group at Outhouse, these differences are acknowledged. As the founder of QAPI and facilitator of this group, I am deeply moved by the trust and kinship that have grown here.

I often think of my arrival in Dublin and wish a space like this had existed then. The racism, the subtle and not-so-subtle exclusions within white gay culture, and the persistent invisibility moulded me as a human, an artist and activist. This group is, in many ways, the space I once needed. 

My own journey began in 2012 when I arrived in Dublin, full of hope yet also uncertainty. Back then, being a QPoC migrant meant navigating deep loneliness, but things are getting somewhat better now. Racism, even in queer spaces, was a painful reality, and the opportunities to find real community were absent. Most socialising took place in bars or on dating apps, leaving many QPoC feeling disconnected and unseen. The deep pain of being different — because of my skin colour, my accent, my immigrant status —was something I carried every day. These experiences, shared by so many immigrant QPoC, were rarely acknowledged. That silence made the loneliness even heavier.

But things have changed gradually since 2015. The years that followed brought hope, especially with the passing of the Marriage Equality Referendum and the Gender Recognition Act. More queer people from the Global South and East, like me, found the courage to call Ireland home. Suddenly, I began to observe faces and hear stories in which I recognised myself. Yet even as our numbers grew, the spaces that truly welcomed all of us remained few and far between. The hunger for belonging was undeniable.

That longing led me, in 2018, to dream of a space where QPoC could gather. At first, the wider LGBTQ+ sector seemed content with surface-level talk about inclusion; real support felt far away. But in 2024-25, with the generous backing of the Outhouse LGBTQ+ Centre team and its CEO Oisín O’Reilly, the QPoC Peer Support Group finally came to life. Having this trust placed in QAPI’s vision, a queer migrants-led initiative, meant more than words can say. It shows that when organisations share power and resources, real transformation is possible. I wish more organisations would follow this path, so that no QPoC in Ireland ever feels they must go it alone.

Every second Thursday of the month, our group gathers at Outhouse, and each meeting seems like a fresh breeze. The space welcomes asylum seekers, refugees, students, workers, partners, and first-generation Irish QPoC, and I am constantly in awe of the courage that fills the room. People share their truths and they support each other. Sometimes, laughter resounds around the chairs; other times, tears are shed as someone finally feels recognised. For many, it’s their first time being surrounded by so many QPoC, the first time they feel safe enough to speak or just to listen. Friendships bloom are burdens lighten. We leave feeling more connected. This is why this space is so essential.

Our conversations are deep and multifaceted. We talk about politics, coming out, missing our families, about the struggles with mental health, about love, sex and intimacy, about faith and the pain of racism. We hold space for each other’s joy and grief. At these moments, I see healing begin, especially when someone feels acknowledged, seen, and understood.

Trust is at the very heart of our group. We fiercely safeguard each other’s privacy. There are no photos, no recordings. There is always a strong respect for consent before sharing anything outside our circle. For many, simply showing up is an act of immense bravery, and our firm commitment to safety is what makes that possible.

With two new facilitators joining recently, Kaushik Krishna Anandh and Owoahene Acheampong, I am hopeful about the group’s future and excited about all we will achieve together. For many migrants, the QPoC Peer Support Group is their first experience of a truly friendly space. Some have never seen out-and-proud QPoC before, or known queer life beyond bars and dating apps, or imagined that queer friendships could be built on kindness and real connection. Our group shows that queerness can thrive in a caring community and that with kindness, we can feel more at home.

Awareness of the group is growing across Ireland, with requests for sessions in cities like Galway and Cork. However, the lack of dedicated funding is still a barrier. The LGBTQ+ sector must prioritise sustainable funding, knowledge sharing, and infrastructure support for QPoC-led initiatives to ensure their growth and longevity. I am excited for 2026!

You can learn more about the QPoC Support Group right here.