The Lives of Queer People in SyriaThe Lives of Queer People in Syria

In this post we asked Queer Syrians in Syria some questions about their lives. Some of the answers had hope for the future and for the upcoming youth, but what they all share is an immense daily struggle because of society’s hostility and ignorance. A society in which many refuse to view Queer individuals as humans who have no control over their reality. A society that weaponizes their religious beliefs in order to demean and insult queer people, making their lives a living hell. Long been a taboo in Syria, it is now time to confront these outdated ideas and various forms of humiliation that our innocent struggling children, friends, relatives, men and women face everyday. Being a more socially-conservative nation should never mean enticing violence and rejecting difference, but to understand and listen.

My brother avoided me completely until his friends kept telling him “your brother is a Sodomite, like a girl”. He tried hitting me many times and he threatened hitting my friends if he saw me walking with them. He proposed a “solution”, for me to leave my studies and join the army “to become a man”… also meaning he could leave the military. I stood my ground and refused completely. My mother was the only one who took my side when my brother was threatening to kill me. He was serious, these were not just threats. After continuous pressure, he gave me until December to leave Syria… and so, I am. I am leaving.

-Bilal, Queer, Damascus.

The upcoming youth is actually incredible. Many places are actually becoming safe spaces. They’ve become filled with so much accepting youth that showing any signs of queerness in them isn’t that dangerous. It warms my heart. But we still have so long to go, because it’s only a certain part of the youth that’s become accepting. The part we choose to surround ourselves with. No matter how big that circle is, it’s still a very small circle of all the people in this country.

-Anonymous, Bisexual, Damascus.

As someone from the Queer community in Syria, it is typical that I feel no sense of safety or belonging. My life in Aleppo is harder than it would be in other governorates. It is rare to find someone who even knows that people like me exist. Those who do, are extremely homophobic. There are no safe spaces here to gather and connect with others. My reality is completely rejected, you can’t even talk about it. I try my best to mask myself… At least I connect with like-minded people online; we are each other’s home. We are all counting down the days we leave to a place where our existence is not a threat. Let’s not fool ourselves, there’s no hope for us here.

-Anonymous, Non-Binary/Pansexual, Aleppo.

I was born in a place where simply expressing yourself authentically was a problem. All your mannerisms have to be calculated. You’re always on defense mode, worried about your future… When I was a pharmacy student at one of the private universities, I once dyed my hair blue. I went to campus one day to register for my summer semester but the security at the gate stopped me from entering and yelled at me in front of everyone, simply because of my hair. He told me to change my hair in order to get in… not a single law in Syria states anything about that. In the meantime, a girl with dyed red hair went in, and I was getting such demeaning looks of disgust from several other students as though I committed a crime. I felt so humiliated, and my sister who was by me and saw the whole ordeal began crying for me. My existence seemed harmful. I went back home in defeat. I was hopeless and lost a whole semester. Several circumstances on campus led me to drop out of the program and the university. I no longer do what I wanted, my life changed.

-Leo, Unspecified, Damascus.

I was bullied throughout my school years and made fun of by everyone, including my teachers and my own family (supposedly my supporters). I got harassed and threatened both verbally and physically countless times, sometimes even in public and in broad daylight and nobody would move a finger. One time, in As Salhiyeh Street in Damascus, a middle aged man screamed at me for wearing earrings and tried to make me take them off. He attacked me with an army knife when I refused to take them off, but luckily a group of people my age were walking by and saw the scene, rushed to get him off me, so I wasn’t badly hurt. I wasn’t physically injured, but the trauma this has caused me will take forever to heal; all that for “appearing feminine”, for wearing earrings… I can only imagine the horrible things that await me if I ever begin to transition here in Damascus.

–Nour, Transwoman, Damascus.

When I was comfortable with my masculine side and appeared like a “tomboy”, I would always get harassed in the street, even online. I have gotten so many death threats online for being myself and looking how I look. Of course, I also have to handle the usual family talks “Why are you doing this to yourself? You would look much nicer if you looked more feminine”. In the past two years, I guess I have found a way to adapt with this and I’ve become more true to myself and open to having conversations about my sexuality and queer issues. I have found so many people that share similar experiences in Syria. We even created a group, a support system and our safe place. Thankfully, today there are some places to go where we actually feel more comfortable being ourselves, like certain cafes or perhaps parks. My experience is personal, my friends can have different experiences, and we are always looking for more people to add with similar stories and realities, to support and love one another. You are not alone.

-Selena, Pansexual & Genderfluid, Damascus.

Many situations made me fear for my safety as a queer woman in Syria. This began as soon as I realized my complete lack of attraction towards men; people constantly said “Why is she like that?” “Something’s wrong with her.” An old guy friend who used to like me pushed me against the wall and told me that if it turned out I liked girls, he would kill me. I was speaking to my dad about these topics and asked him what he would do if one of his children were Queer.. “I’d slaughter them”, he said, so calmly and with no emotion. A girl I once dated when we were in school outed me to many, even though I specifically told her that I don’t want anyone knowing, but that was her way of getting revenge after we’ve broken up. They called people like me “deviants”. We grew up, and the same people still think the same way. I stayed away from them and surrounded myself with people here who are actually accepting of the community, some are even straight, so I feel quite safe now.

-Anonymous, Lesbian, Latakia.

Once during my baccalaureate, I had an appointment in the afternoon. At the time, I was perceived as more feminine. There was a dim alleyway by the military hospital in Mazzeh, a place full of soldiers, and somewhere that should supposedly be “safe”; a soldier called for me from far away. Naturally, I took out my ID like we’re accustomed to (war reality), and he said: “Oh, sorry, I thought you were a girl.” I ask what it is he wanted, he was obviously drunk. He asked where I live, and I said on this street. “Oh, I live nearby, too”, he puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me to go to his bedroom. I removed his hand, said no thanks, and walked away quickly but he kept pulling me. I pushed him hard and ran back home. During that time, I was still convincing my parents that I was straight after they discovered my sexuality. They confiscated my phone for 7 months and hired someone to stalk me and watch my whereabouts. I never told them what happened with the soldier, it would be my fault. They are very very, very homophobic. Today, it is easier in university, surrounded by friends who accept me as I am. We hang out in the Bab Sharqi area in Old Damascus a lot. I feel like it’s such a safe space in Damascus, no one is constantly watching me.

-Mohammed, Gay, Damascus.