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Living situations are such an intimate part of our lives, so when the system we rely on feels like it wasn’t built for us, it hits differently. LGBTQ+ folks in Singapore know this all too well, as same-sex marriage isn’t legal, which leads to queer Singaporeans classified as “singles”, and only being able to attain a home at 35 years old with various limitations.
We speak to three LGBTQ+ individuals in Singapore. “Maya,” “Jasper,” and “Rina”, to hear about their real, everyday struggles when it comes to finding a place to call home.
“I’ve thought about flying somewhere I can’t be penalized just for loving who I love.” – Maya, 28, Lesbian
Maya’s been together with her partner for three years, and to say they’re serious is an understatement. But when housing restrictions and legal frameworks come into play, the couple’s only choice of a future together was to rent an apartment.
In Singapore, to access subsidized public housing under schemes like BTO, you’re typically required to be a legally recognized heterosexual couple – or a single above 35. Same-sex couples simply don’t fit the checklist.
Maya sighs as she shares with me, “My partner and I are not considered a “family unit”, even though we’ve built a home together and do everything a typical couple does as well.” She’s explored Plan B: private property. But with soaring prices and insane downpayments, that isn’t an actual plan – it’s more of a fantasy.
Her fallback: “Someday live abroad where I belong.” She’s even joked about marriage of convenience with a fellow LGBTQ+ stranger just to qualify for subsidies as two couples. But honestly? “It’s gross as hell, and even suggesting it feels like defeat.” Not to mention, it could also be illegal.
Her advice? “If you see yourself staying in Singapore for life, start saving ridiculously early. Maybe plan for a condo deposit instead of being ‘married’ in name only. And don’t underestimate the power of networking – I managed to find my current apartment from a queer-frinedly community group on Facebook. So that eased the pressure of “coming out” to the landlord”.
“I have to wait till I’m 35… or rent forever.” – Jasper, 24, Gay
Jasper is freshly into the workforce. Graduated last year, now taking his first paychecks, newly renting a room by himself. But buying a place? Fat hope. Firstly, he’s not 35 and not straight, so he’s ineligible for an HDB flat.
He confesses, “My family’s tight-lipped about queer stuff, and I’m not out to them. Staying on means there’s always that weight—social, emotional, mental—of just staying alive under their roof. But moving out? Rent’s very expensive , and landlords can be difficult, but it’s a choice I make for my sanity”.
He lives paycheck to paycheck to afford his rent on his fresh grad salary, and the minute he mentions his sexuality to agents or housemates, reactions tend to be awkward or not positive. He now avoids mentioning it altogether during introductions.
To add salt to the wound, Jasper shares “My family doesn’t acknowledge my independence of renting solo. Instead, they tend to compare me to my older brother who has a girlfriend and is planning to apply for a BTO”. His friends of the same age group are also enjoying the benefits of being in a heterosexual relationship, getting BTOs and resale flats with their respective partners.
“At the end of the day, we’re not asking for a mansion,” he says. “Just a small room we don’t have to pretend to be someone else in.”
“After years
“After years of conforming, shelters feel… well, unsafe.” – Rina, 36, Trans Woman
For Rina, housing didn’t just stop at financial limitations — it was personal safety too. The 36-year-old trans woman had to live with her parents far longer than she’d hoped, trying to “be a good son” until her 30s. She longed to transition safely in order to change her life, but every attempt to move out ended in fights and heartbreak. When she was effectively disowned at 30 years old, she looked into shelters – but they were often run by religious groups, and she heard horror stories: “I was told to cut my hair or wear certain clothes in order to stay in the shelter. There were also many homeless trans people who were turned away repeatedly”, Rina says.
But that wasn’t the worst part. “There are barely any safe, queer-friendly emergency housing spots in Singapore also,” Rina says quietly. “I felt trapped, and most of all, unsafe.”
Despite being low-income and needing help, she couldn’t seek it openly. It was her community of friends that saved her, by lending her couches to sleep on, and sharing LGBTQ+ support groups to find solitude.
Today, Rina is looking forward to collecting her keys for a 2-room flexi BTO HDB flat in the West side of Singapore she applied for as a single – a milestone that she won’t take for granted.
Why Does The LGBTQ+ Community Face These Challenges?
When you zoom out, the challenges faced by LGBTQ+ Singaporeans boil down to systemic gaps that still haven’t caught up with the reality in other countries. For starters, same-sex unions aren’t recognized here, so even if a couple ties the knot overseas, that marriage has no legal standing back home. Without that recognition, couples lose out on key rights like applying for housing together, sharing CPF benefits, or even securing dependent passes. For many, it feels like the state is essentially saying: your love doesn’t count.
Public housing policies make things even tougher. Because over 80% of Singaporeans live in HDB flats, access to these schemes is critical. Yet eligibility hinges on marriage or age – you must either be part of a legally recognized couple or wait until you’re 35 to buy as a single. For queer people who don’t want to wait a decade or more just to move out of their parents’ homes, that rule feels less like a policy and more like a lock on the door.
Even in the private rental market, discrimination remains a very real obstacle. Some landlords openly reject same-sex couples or trans tenants, and because Singapore lacks strong anti-discrimination protections in housing, there’s often no legal recourse. Beyond the rejection itself, the constant fear of being turned away – or worse, evicted if your identity is discovered – adds another layer of anxiety.
And then there’s the emotional toll. Having to hide parts of yourself under your parents’ roof, facing repeated “no’s” from landlords, or navigating shelters that aren’t always safe or welcoming. Honestly, the impact isn’t just financial, it’s deeply personal, eating into mental health, self-worth, and the simple dream of building a stable home.
How Can LGBTQ+ Community Overcome Housing Issues?
While we wait for laws to change in Singapore, many LGBTQ+ folks are finding creative, if imperfect, workarounds. Maya, Jasper, and Rina’s stories are proof of that. Some start planning early – saving not necessarily for an HDB flat they can’t access, but for a future condo down payment. Others lean on queer-friendly networks, sharing rooms or subletting from people they trust to avoid discrimination. Community groups and LGBTQ+ organizations often act as lifelines, quietly connecting individuals to safe spaces or short-term housing. And while “lavender marriages” (marriages of convenience between a gay man and a lesbian woman) occasionally pop up as an option, most agree it’s an emotionally complicated, risky path that rarely ends well.
But as resourceful as individuals can be, real progress needs systemic change. Legal recognition of same-sex unions would open up fair access to housing and rights that most heterosexual couples take for granted. Stronger anti-discrimination protections in rentals and public housing would give LGBTQ+ tenants the security of knowing they won’t be turned away simply for who they are. And on a safety net level, Singapore needs more emergency shelters and subsidized housing options that are trans-inclusive, trauma-informed, and free of religious gatekeeping.
At the end of the day, living in Singapore as an LGBTQ+ person often requires equal parts resilience and resourcefulness. Maya, Jasper, and Rina’s experiences show how much grit it takes to carve out a home in a system that wasn’t designed with them in mind. Yet despite the obstacles, they’re adapting, building networks, and holding onto the vision of brighter, more inclusive days ahead.
If you’re reading this and find echoes of your own story, take heart—you’re not alone. Whether it’s through friends, chosen family, or community groups, support exists, even if it sometimes feels hidden.
If you or someone you know is struggling with sexual identity or coming out, A Space Between provides a safe environment for support with queer-friendly counsellors. Besides being a resource for help or navigating the challenge of coming out, A Space Between also shares advice on therapy and LGBTQ+ issues through online blog articles, as well as holding community events.
*All responses have been edited for clarity and brevity
*Names have been altered for confidentiality purposes
