As the number of refugees worldwide grows, so too does the number of LGBT refugees
The plight of asylum seekers and displaced people is high on the global agenda as the world faces its greatest refugee crisis since the World War II. LGBT refugees encounter further struggles as they continue to face prejudice and persecution through the asylum system and in their receiving countries. The Salzburg Global LGBT Forum has been addressing the issues of LGBT refugees since its beginnings, with a special focus placed on their trials at the 2017 session, Home: Safety, Belonging and Wellbeing.
Forced “cures.” Homes vandalized. Vicious beatings. Friends murdered. These are just some of the reasons why a number of Fellows of the Salzburg Global LGBT Forum have fled their home countries and sought refuge overseas.
Just as the global population of forcibly displaced people has grown substantially from 33.9 million in 1997 to 65.6 million in 2016 (according to the UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency), so too has the number of LGBT refugees grown. According the UK’s Home Office (interior ministry), applications for asylum in the country on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity has risen 400 percent between 2009 and 2014 – even before incorporating the large influx of refugees that Europe saw in 2015.
Homosexuality remains criminalized in 72 countries around the world, with several countries – or non-state actors within the country, such as the so-called “Islamic State” in Iraq and Syria – imposing the death penalty for same-sex relations. Even in some of the 120 countries where homosexuality has been decriminalized, LGBT people still face great social stigma and frequent persecution.
A matter of safety or death
Ethiopian activists, Noël Iglessias and Negede Gezahegn were repeatedly harassed by their neighbors after their LGBT advocacy efforts were uncovered. Their home was ransacked twice and they received death threats after they launched an online campaign called “Stop The Hate, Spread The Love.” “We remember one particular message we received: ‘I am going to get a machete in the name love, name it ‘love’ and kill all of you while declaring the love of God,’” they shared when they returned to the Forum in 2017 for Home: Safety, Belonging and Wellbeing. They had first attended the Salzburg Global LGBT Forum in 2015 under the condition of official anonymity. Their names and photographs did not appear in any materials for fear of putting their safety in further jeopardy.
However, by the time they were invited back to Salzburg for another, non-LGBT Forum session in December 2016, their situation – much like the rest of the country, which was placed in a national state of emergency – had dramatically worsened. “At that time, we were in a dark state. While in Salzburg, the threats kept coming. It became a matter of safety or death. We had our lives, studies, job, community and activism in Ethiopia but it hit us that we were feeling alienated in our very country of birth. We decided to seek asylum in Austria.” The two friends were granted asylum in Austria in August 2017 and are receiving administrative and emotional support from participants of the Salzburg Global LGBT Forum and the local LGBT community as they start to build their new lives in the foreign country they will now call home.
Continuing difficulties
Making the decision to leave everything – friends, family, support networks, jobs – behind and seek safety in a foreign country is just one of the many struggles refugees have to face. LGBT refugees are often struck with further difficulties as they continue to face persecution and discrimination during the asylum process. Non-activists can find it especially difficult, explains Michael Heflin, director of equality for the Open Society Human Rights Initiative: “When refugees are trying to enter a country to seek asylum, one of the biggest problems they face is that through the asylum process, you have to prove that you personally have well-founded fear of persecution. In their own countries, they had to lie about their identity and had to live in secrecy. But if you have been very secretive about your life, because you know the situation is dangerous, often it becomes hard to prove that you personally have a well-founded fear of persecution.”
While the UNHCR has started implementing guidelines to better protect LGBT refugees and sensitizing local personnel, these improvements are slow to “trickle down” the entire system. The European Asylum Support Office offers specialized training on how to best handle LGBT asylum cases, but this training is not mandatory. Language barriers can be a common hurdle to overcome for all migrants, but this can be further heightened for LGBT asylum seekers. “In some countries there are no ways to express certain aspects of sexualities and that cannot be solved by training immigration officers. So to explain stories, experiences, and to communicate them in a way that is understood as they are meant to be understood is a challenge,” explained Lucas Hendriksen, program officer for LGBT rights at HIVOS, a Dutch development organization, at the 2015 session, Strengthening Communities: LGBT Rights and Social Cohesion.
As Mary Audry Chard, board member and co-chair of the organization Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe (GALZ) shared on the 2015 panel, “Extreme Forms of Exclusion,” in camps, other refugees sometimes attack their LGBT compatriots; this situation worsened when the UN fast-tracks LGBT cases, thus generating a perception of LGBT privilege and igniting further anger in the camps. LGBT individuals and same-sex couples can often be discriminated against in the refugee system, which is biased towards (heterosexual) families. Fear of further persecution in the camps leads some refugees to further flee again. Outside of the camps, without passports or any legal access to support services, these refugees are especially vulnerable to corruption, human trafficking and illegal activities such as sex work, says Stella Murungi, a protection officer in the Security Management and Protection Department at the East and Horn of Africa Human Rights Defenders Project (EHAHRDP) in Uganda.
Once they have arrived in the receiving country, many refugees struggle to adjust. Depression and “activism guilt” are worryingly common. Many refugees seek a sense of belonging in their diaspora communities in receiving countries. This option is often unavailable to LGBT refugees. “Your own nationals can make you feel unsafe in a new place, since you do not know their political affiliations or LGBT attitudes,” explained a Russian Fellow. Many refugees who struggle to adjust feel homesick – and thus face accusations of being ungrateful to their host country. While he is grateful to Canada and the opportunities his new home has afforded him, as Syrian refugee Danny Ramadan recalls: “I couldn’t say that I missed home, because it felt impolite. But I missed it; it’s the place where I climbed a tree, where I kissed a boy the first time.”
Lacking a support system, “people may contemplate suicide because they had a good job and the process takes long or they go to an isolated village in Europe or end up unemployed. They get depressed,” explains Dennis Wamala, program manager at Icebreakers Uganda, an LGBT support NGO in the country. In the past decade, Wamala estimates that Uganda has seen nearly 70 percent of its LGBT activists leave. He often stays up at night “talking to extremely depressed people living abroad.”
Diaspora tensions
Having a sympathetic ear on the other end of a transcontinental telephone call can be a literal lifeline for LGBT refugees, but sadly they are often regarded with suspicion by their activist peers they have left behind. This is especially the case if they have been “rescued” by well-meaning international LGBT and human rights NGOs, which often prioritize specific leaders, leaving their lesser-known colleagues behind. This focus on specific individuals can demotivate, demoralize and disempower movements at large. “In rescue missions, they ask for a name, not for lists,” explains Kasha Nabagesera, one of Africa’s most high profile LGBT activists. “The others know they won’t be rescued. How do we support members that are not as visible?” Elle Fersan, a Lebanese activist who recently relocated to the US, explained at the 2017 session that “people at home feel upset because you left and the people where you are do not often understand what you went through.” However, rather than viewing them with disdain for “abandoning” the country, she suggests that this LGBT diaspora should be embraced as a useful resource; overseas activists can provide crucial skills, networks and information for advocacy back home.
Whatever drove them to flee and whatever their fate, all refugees are seeking the same thing: safety. As they now consider their future in Austria, Iglessias and Gezahegn believe they have found this: “We are in a healing process, and we feel safe and loved. But this is still a rollercoaster of feelings as we build a new home.”
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