Chai Khana Print Book
Chai Khana Print Book

For LGBTQI community in the Caucasus, isolation is a way of life

Photographer: Sofi Mdivnishvili, Nata Vahabova, Diana Karapetyan

14.04.20
Edition: Isolation
Topic: Minorities

For many LGBTQI youth in the South Caucasus, home is not a heaven.

Their parents, their families—the ring of relations that is supposed to provide comfort and safety in the traditional societies of Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia—are often unable or unwilling to support them.

That leaves them largely isolated, unprotected and with little recourse to fight against a rising tide of hate crimes and discrimination.  Danger takes many forms for the LGBTQI community in the South Caucasus, from verbal slights on public transportation and beatings at home to work-place abuse and illegal incarceration.

Members of the LGBTQI community are punished for being themselves in all three countries.

Azerbaijan has been called the worst place for the LGBTQI community in Europe. The police have illegally detained and, in some cases, tortured gay and transgender individuals.

In Armenia, potential discrimination and the risk of hate crimes forces people to hide their sexual orientation, and be isolated from social life. It ranks slightly above Azerbaijan in terms of laws and rights guaranteed for the LGBTQI community, but it provides no legal guarantees against discrimination. Homophobic hate speech is common in media and attacks against members of the LGBTQI community are common.

While Georgia has passed some laws that provide a veneer of protection for the LGBTQI community, homophobia is rampant in Georgia. The lack of political will to provide safeguards for the LGBTQI community results in police violence, hate crimes and a general sense of insecurity for members of the community. Discrimination is also prevalent. In particular, activists note LGBTQI individuals are at risk to lose jobs and do not have access to state-funded shelters or medical treatment in most cases.

The lack of protection robs the LGBTQI community of their voices across the region.

With few safe places to occupy, the LGBTQI communities in Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia find themselves limited to online forums and closed Facebook groups.

This project aims to give them a public platform to speak about their lives and their hopes.

Their dreams are much like those of everyone else: in all three countries, they dream—much like everyone else—of being accepted by their families and their communities, and having the freedom to create fulfilling lives.

For instance Nora, a trained nurse, hopes to one day work in her own field, instead of being forced to earn money as a sex worker. Umid simply wants to feel at peace with his own body. And Ana dreams of the day she can hold her girlfriend’s hand in public.

These are their stories, moments lived in the private spaces where they can find peace and feel at home.

GEORGIA

Georgia has passed anti-discrimination laws that should provide safey and security to the LGBTQI community. But the reality is much different. Hate speech is frequent and LGBTQI events have been threatened by ultra-right groups and religious organizations. The 2018 Ombudsman’s report noted that “Homophobic and transphobic attitudes are still strong in the public, due to which LGBT+ people still suffer from oppression, discrimination and often become victims of violence.”

Ani

Ani, 18, was around 14 when she realized she was attracted to other girls.
“I used to paint pictures of women, not men. It felt so nice to paint each part or detail of their body with a brush. I didn’t get it then, but later I realized that I felt closer to women. It made me rethink who I was and what I actually wanted. That’s when I decided to try a relationship with both sexes.”

She recalls telling a few friends about her orientation, but they didn’t understand her and she lost those friendships. 

"My sister is the only family member who knows, and she is pretty tolerant about it. I couldn’t tell anyone else – not because I was scared but because I didn’t want to disappoint them. My family has set their hopes on me. I don’t think my orientation should disappoint them, but I still find it hard to make my family understand that I’m totally different from who they think I am or who they want me to be."

Lika

Lika, 21, was 13 when she first told her parents that she was a lesbian. They were furious and refused to accept her. “They estranged me from my friends, took my phone away, and started to control me at school. I fell into a terrible depression. I wouldn't leave my room or eat anything. My dad would beat me every time he got drunk.”

Over the course of several years she was subjected to everything from beatings and physical abuse to an exorcism. “All I was thinking about was death...I tried to commit suicide. I took some pills but my sister found out and I was rushed to the hospital.”

She was 18 when she left her home in a village and sought help in Tbilisi. Activists at the Equality Movement NGO took her in and supported her, eventually helping her leave the country.

“Germany was a spontaneous decision. Any country would be fine but we thought it would be easier to go there. The main goal was not to live in Georgia anymore. The rest didn’t matter.”

Today, Lika lives in Germany, where she sought refuge after running away from home. She is a student and does not plan to return to Georgia.

"I was physically abused at home. Because of my bruises, I wasn’t allowed to go to school. My parents were afraid. They told people that I had measles. I was also forced to eat. If I refused, they would hit me in the face, or throw the food on the floor in front of me. I tried to commit suicide. I took some pills but my sister found out and I was rushed to the hospital."
"Sometimes I think that if I had never come out, I would have never overcome that much and I would’ve been very weak. The most valuable thing I have today is my freedom. That’s all I ever needed."

Mariam

Mariam, 17, had her first crush on a girl three years ago. About a year later, she ran into the girl again and they have been dating ever since. Mariam tried to come out to her mother, but her mom refused to believe she was serious, arguing that she would outgrow her attraction to women. Mariam has stopped trying to talk to her mom about it, and has not tried to come out to anyone else. “I feel this cold, offensive gaze from people every single day. It may also be about my style and taste. I’m used to the fact that I’m in danger in my country because of my orientation. That’s why I never express my feelings in public. I have never tried kissing my girlfriend in the street. I refuse to allow myself to do it.”

"When I first started having relationships with girls, I didn’t realize they were the only ones I would ever like. It seemed to be just a crush at first. I was 14 at the time."
"It’s been more than a year since I started a serious relationship with a girl who I love, trust and cherish the most."
"Although I try to consider other people's opinions and not provoke anyone, I still manage to love and accept myself as I am. That’s all the advice I can give you."
"Our relationship was probably just like everyone else. We had fights, disappointments and arguments, break-ups and make-ups. We’re still together today."
"I had a conversation with my mom last year, explaining that I liked girls. Just like any other Georgian moms would do, she told me that this age was very hard, and as I grew up, my feelings and thoughts would go away. When she realized that I wasn’t going to change, she got really mad."

Salome

Salome, 21, was 11 when she understood she was attracted to girls. Her sexual orientation has caused her years of conflict with her family, friends and even strangers. Once, she tried to leave home but her family followed her and convinced her to return. “They promised me they would treat me better. As soon as I returned, they took me to church. I was losing myself, harming my body, staying awake and worrying. I couldn't speak to anyone.”

"Anna was forbidden to come near me, and she was locked in at home. It’s so difficult for me to expr ...
"Anna was forbidden to come near me, and she was locked in at home. It’s so difficult for me to express what we had to overcome in those days. We still managed to sneak out and meet each other outside and places where no one would see. We still live like this today. We are hiding all the time!"
"I have never honestly talked about my sexual orientation with my family members, including my mother. I was sure they knew everything, but they preferred not to hear it from me and not to believe that it was normal. That is why they chose to remain silent."
"The looks we get from people are so annoying, for example, when we share headphones to listen to music in public. I have often heard terrible comments while walking down the street. People get especially loud when they talk about me, asking ' is it a girl or a boy?"

Nino

Nino, 30, realized she was attracted to women when she was already an adult. She says at the time, she didn’t have any information, or even the vocabulary, to understand her feelings.

She was 20 and had already been married. “I was very young when I got married. That’s when I met a girl. I could tell she liked me, and I felt the same. I decided to give this relationship a try. It turned out to be one of the most special times of my life. It was the first time I had an orgasm. This is how I realized what the ‘problem’ was. I was 20 at that time.”

Nino came out to her mother but her mother couldn’t accept it, so the two simply do not discuss it now. Nino has two children and worries how homophobia could affect them. “ I always feel tense with the fear that they may get hurt just because I like women and my partner is female. I feel this huge responsibility! It’s the only reason why I don’t say I’m a lesbian.”

 

"I had some relationships with boys and I used to like it, but I had never experienced an orgasm with them. I used to blame myself and think that I had a problem. It was embarrassing but I couldn’t say a word."
"I didn't know anything about the LGBT community and I knew no one from them. So, I couldn’t ask anyone for advice. I couldn’t even talk. I wasn't able to define what kind of emotions and interest I had in women."
"Coming out was very natural. I was lucky to be born in an environment where I’d never had a problem due to my orientation. I’ve never lost friends."
"I have two children from my marriage. At first, I didn’t take the homophobic acts seriously and I wasn’t afraid. But now I’m afraid because of my children."
"I generally dislike giving terms and names to everything. I prefer saying that I’m a woman who like ...
"I generally dislike giving terms and names to everything. I prefer saying that I’m a woman who likes women. Just like that, without any terms or names."

AZERBAIJAN

Old traditions prevail in most of Azerbaijani society. Wide-spread hatred towards the LGBTQI community also stems from ignorance and confusion. As a largely patriarchal society with strictly segregated male and female roles, it challenges any attitude that does not adhere to that. As a result, the LGBTQI community is forced to hide or face harsh criticism as their families often struggle to come to terms with their sexuality, especially in rural areas. Coming out often results in violence, abuse and rejection. These attitudes cause many people to live double lives, and some feel deeply ashamed about their identity.

Umid

Umid, 21, identifies as transgender. He was raised as a girl, according to traditional gender roles, surrounded by his siblings in a very traditional and conservative family. From childhood, Umid felt uncomfortable in his own skin and found it hard to live as a girl.

Unable to share his experiences with his family, Umid found his solace at Salaam Cinema, an art group in capital Baku. Here, within the walls of  an old building, surrounded by art-loving, open-minded and creative people, Umid feels at home.

“I always felt foreign in my own body. Over the years this feeling inside me grew stronger and stron ...
“I always felt foreign in my own body. Over the years this feeling inside me grew stronger and stronger until the point when I could no longer continue like this. That's when I made my decision to transition.”
Umid says that every day is a struggle. “I have to face a lot of questions about my appearance, my choice of haircut, my body shape everyday. These problems will continue until I transition and find peace with my body and mind.”
His name means ‘hope’ in Azerbaijani and Umid believes one day he will become a source of hope for the LGTBQI community. "Call me by my name, Umid. People like me need hope and one day I want to be the face of that hope." Umid feels the most comfortable men’s company. "I would love to be able to draw portraits of my loved ones. To highlight the differences that make us special. Different is beautiful".

Nigar

Nigar, 32, identifies as a lesbian. Nigar first realized she was gay in the 9th grade. Until recently Nigar was in a long term relationship with her partner. They met on a dating website.

Unfortunately, after seven years the relationship ended and Nigar is single again.

Like many others in Azerbaijan’s LGBTQI community, Nigar hopes to immigrate one day.

“My biggest difficulty is building relationships with people. I always have this fear of being misunderstood or being laughed at.”
"I have a good relationship with my family, but I can’t come out. I keep them in the dark about my sexual orientation. I want to move to Europe. In Europe people can live freely. Nobody cares about sexual orientation, nobody laughs or discriminates against anyone over their sexual orientation in Europe. Whereas here we are years away from such an environment. People’s minds and thinking need to change, but it requires time.”
At home, Nigar surrounds herself with her houseplants. They occupy every corner of her house. She se ...
At home, Nigar surrounds herself with her houseplants. They occupy every corner of her house. She sees herself settling down in Europe and owning a shop selling houseplants. For the time being, Nigar is working as a food delivery courier. Although it’s nothing to do with her profession--film editing--she finds joy in cycling around.

Aida

Aida, 21, identifies as lesbian. She was 12 when she first felt attracted to a school friend, and she remembers being scared and confused by her feelings. Her discomfort with her own feelings was magnified by her upbringing in a traditional Azerbaijani family.

Aida started to explore her feelings while she was studying at university. She spent a lot of time researching LGBTQI issues and, in 2019, she joined the Y-peer organization in Baku. The organization focuses on sexual and reproductive health and rights for young people and Aida has become an active member. 

"I am independent, I work and earn my own living, so I’m not afraid and do not feel like I need to keep hiding from who I am, but I still treasure the relationship with my mom. She is homophobic and she probably won’t accept the idea that her daughter is a lesbian. I love her, I don’t want to lose this emotional connection."
Aida is also an amateur actress. She often acts in plays about sexual abuse, discrimination and the LGBTIQ community. To earn a living, she works as a promoter in supermarkets.

Armenia

The LGBTQI community is highly stigmatized in Armenia. The threat of discrimination and violence forces people to stay in the closet, isolated from social life. 

In real life, many members of the LGBTQ community struggle every day for their right to the pursuit of happiness.  Those who break their silence and openly live their lives as LGBTQI individuals show real courage by publicly speaking about the issues they face everyday in an effort to force people to recognize their shared human experience.

Nora

20, is bigender. She was forced to leave home when she was 18 due to domestic violence and verbal abuse. She went to medical school and dreams of becoming a nurse, but discrimination against the LGBTQI community makes that impossible. 

Immediately after leaving home, Nora worked as a waitress but she was soon fired because, as the owner said, “clients do not want a homosexual waiter.” Eventually she turned to sex work. She has found happiness with her partner, Feliks, and a group of friends who accept her as she is.

“I hope to live in a more empathetic society one day, where we can feel empathy even if someone is different from the accepted norm but still is very much human.”
“Sex work is not the best way to earn money. I would not choose sex work if I had a chance to get a better job. I like my profession as a nurse, but there is a huge paradox in our society: people judge sex workers but do not give them any other opportunity to earn a living. We are just surviving the best we can.”
“I was a very scared child, I was afraid to talk a lot, to talk loudly, to talk about my feelings an ...
“I was a very scared child, I was afraid to talk a lot, to talk loudly, to talk about my feelings and needs, and to protect myself in family and outside. But my dream of freedom was stronger than any fear. We all are born with a desire for freedom.”

Mo

Mo, 35, is a queer asexual person, who left their parent’s house two years ago.In a traditional society where young people, especially those assigned female at birth, are expected to live with their parents, moving out was a very brave move. Mo never officially came out to their parents but openly speaks on social platforms about their same sex attractions and queer experiences. Mo’s brother and parents avoid discussions about Mo’s diverse identities although Mo is ready to answer their questions openly.

“My parents finally let me go when I cut off my long hair as an act of rebellion. I regained my happ ...
“My parents finally let me go when I cut off my long hair as an act of rebellion. I regained my happiness after I was liberated from traditional expectations.”
“My well-being is less important to them than other people’s opinions. I've never felt safe sharing my feelings with my family.”
Mo’s family simply assumes that they are a lesbian. Mo shares that it is very hard to engage in small talk with them, and the effort to not discuss topics they are not interested in or open to learn about is very painful.
“My mother never visits me. I am calling more and more rarely. I go to my former residence, do my laundry and leave as soon as possible. Perhaps that is because once she said that a guest is coming and asked me to wear something long instead of shorts, so they wouldn't see that my legs weren’t shaved.”

Elvira

Elvira, 29, is a woman living in Vanadzor who does not identify with any one orientation. “I have identified with hetero, bisexual, pansexual and queer over time, but now I don’t want to be identified.”

Elvira is lucky as she has a very close family, although it’s difficult to live in Armenia without following traditional gender roles, especially in the regions outside of the capital,  where the atmosphere of discrimination, violence, stereotypes are more prevelant. 

“We are like flowers trying to grow from stone cracks․ There is no space to express yourself and be ...
“We are like flowers trying to grow from stone cracks․ There is no space to express yourself and be heard, to discuss and to explore. Sometimes I am feeling like Robinson Crusoe: there is life around, but you can’t or you are afraid to express things that are important to you.”
“Sometimes that struggle is a source of inspiration, sometimes it’s a source of frustration. I just ...
“Sometimes that struggle is a source of inspiration, sometimes it’s a source of frustration. I just feel that now I am relying on myself more and I feel satisfied, even for a moment, when I share the burden with someone else.”

Margo

Margo, 23, identifies as agender. They are a drag queen who cannot act openly in their everyday life. Margo is still in the closet, hiding a very important aspect of their identity from relatives. If anyone they know sees and recognizes them, everyone will shame them. Margo’s mother and brother know about their emotional attraction to men, but they do not know about their gender identity and are not supportive. 

“My family will refuse me and deny my existence. It’s very painful to recognize the infinite distanc ...
“My family will refuse me and deny my existence. It’s very painful to recognize the infinite distance between me and my relatives, actually the people who should be the first to accept and support me, the people who should know me the best.”
“We are all alone in our lives. The only thing we can do for each other is offer help and support, to lessen the feeling of loneliness.”
“My dream is to gain my family’s understanding. After all, the true value of family is unconditional love and support.”
Margo can only truly be themselves with their friends.

Mkho

Mkho, 24, is a gay man whose sexuality has been revealed to his family twice without his consent. The first time he was 16. His brother read his posts on social media and beat him up, forbidding him from going out. It happened again when he was 23, when his sister overheard him discussing his sexuality and told other members of the family. His family still denies that he is gay; they pretend that it’s not true or he is being influenced by his friends.

Mkho works as a waiter, and he said that the best part of his job is that everyone is friendly and s ...
Mkho works as a waiter, and he said that the best part of his job is that everyone is friendly and supportive. That has not always been the case: there were several times that he was outed at work and fired because of his sexual orientation.
“I am happy to work in a place where I am not obliged to hide. It’s easier to live without lies, judgment and fakery․ Orientation is just about love, I have no reason to hide.”
“There is a lot of tension at home. I prefer not to be at home. When I am at home, I do not leave my room. I feel the least safe at my own house, because my father always finds a reason to fight with me. It’s hard to admit to yourself that your family doesn't matter to you, other than my mother and grandmother, the only people who care and support me somehow, but even they remain silent.”

Luna

Luna, 23, is a lesbian. Her family kicked her out when she was 17, following years of tense relations with her mother and other relatives over her sexual orientation. At one point, her mother even forced her to visit a psychologist.  

The doctor told her family that Luna should be “treated” and she was subjected to psychological pressure for two months as the psychologist tried to “cure” her. Finally, the psychologist refused to work with her. 

Luna and her mother did not speak to each other for six years but, thanks to efforts by her brother, the two recently started to communicate again. Her brother made the first step, even though the family had forbidden him from contacting his sister. 

“I felt alone and full of hate․ The realization that I had been abandoned by my own mother brought u ...
“I felt alone and full of hate․ The realization that I had been abandoned by my own mother brought unbearable pain. We should forgive, love and accept each other, because we do not choose our family and a family does not choose their child, just as we do not choose our orientation.”
“I cannot say that my mother understands or accepts me now. We just ignore this topic to avoid argum ...
“I cannot say that my mother understands or accepts me now. We just ignore this topic to avoid arguments․ Now I am living with my partner and our cat. I feel at harmony with myself, as I am.”
#Georgia #Armenia #Azerbaijan #LGBTQ+ #HumanRights #Youth
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