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Category Archives: LEBIDAHOT

My Story as a Syrian Gay refugee – 3 –

LGBT3Photo by Dalia Khamissy

PS: TEXTS were written in Syrian Arabic and translated into English.

Ali and I were had a superficial relationship and at that time, Ali was being raised at an orphanage. After a while he was adopted by a well-known family, and our relationship became more serious and we got more and more attached to each other.

One day, while we were making love at my house, my father felt we were up to something and came into my room suddenly and found us together. We were subjected to the worst kind of beatings and insults and hurtful words…these were some of the toughest moments in my life, and they happened just because we both were what we were “gay.”

My dad threw us out of the house, kicking me out against my will and he would not accept the situation at all. He swore he never wanted to see my face again, and that if I ever came back, he would kill me.

The news that we were gay reached Ali’s father, and he is someone who has a lot of influence and power with the state, and is able to do whatever he wants. He decided he would kill us both. We started running and hiding, and were exposed to threats and dangerous situations in Damascus especially when the situation deteriorated in the country and the war started.

We decided to escape to Lebanon because it was the closest country, but started facing problems there because we could not work or live in one place if we did not want to be found. We could not find a way to get enough money to spend or to eat at the very least. We ended up on the streets for months, roaming from place to place and depending on people’s charity.

What we were afraid of did not happen. We got to live together and stay in one place, and we were able to have the life we wanted, together. However, at any moment, due to the power Ali’s father has and his influential position, they may find out where we are.

We registered at the UNHCR in the hope that our freedom and emancipation will be possible with their help, but the person who lives on so little hope is like the one waiting for water to sprout in a desert.

I may be killed in a second because of something that was born with me, because of what I am. If my dad and Ali’s cannot accept us for what we are and for how God created us, it may not be the case for everyone. Not all will want to kill us for being gays.

We will reach a place where there are people who will accept us the way we are and where we will not be found, but until we get to that place, we may end up in another place, under the ground.

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My Story as a Gay Syrian Refugee – 2 –


LGBT2
Photo by Dalia Khamisi

They told me about God and I loved Him.

They said He created everything in the universe.
I was young and searching and discovering the world and questioning everything. I found out there is a God that loves me as I am and I decided to love Him to death, but I was told it was not enough to love Him, I had to worship Him, and I asked why, they said you just have to, so I said I will worship Him, but they said that was not enough that I had to pray to Him, so I asked them how and they said we will show you how.
They prayed in front of me and I got courage and learned. They said they would get me a “galabiyah” to wear during prayer so I was happy but told them I did not want it white, but colored, so they said we will get you whatever you want.
I asked for it to be colored the colors of roses and of the sky and treas.
They bought me a very nice one with a hood and two openings on the sides. I wore it to pray and wore it to play and wore it to dance, but I had no idea I would raped in it and killed in it and that my childhood would die in it. Years went by and the galabiyah lived inside of me.
I did not know if I loved it or not or if God loved me or did not love me or if they loved me or did not love me.
Unfortunately they hated me – but I did not care and they could not stop me or pull me backwards.
I decided to continue ahead in life and never look back. What is behind us is behind us and there is no cure for it.

Of course you would like to know whether or not I forgive. What do you think? My God taught me to forgive and I will forgive.
God is the number one person in my life and I love Him and He is the last person in my life and death and I love Him.

PS: article translated and edited from a play in Syrian dialect

 

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My Story as a Syrian gay refugee – 1 –

syria_gay_pride_pinback_buttons-r0c620e7c1ec64338a8ce3189d0b4ae4e_x7j17_8byvr_324I was always the special one at home, in everything, and whatever I wanted would be done.

There were lots of things inside of me that I was afraid to expose because I did not know what would happen if I did.

But they loved me in the dark and made me hate the light, and when I told them that I wanted to live as I pleased that I had the right to live and take what I want they said no you are not free you are wrong you are immoral.

I ran to a warm and tender lap, I found that this warm and tender lap was the one rejecting me.

It was the one to reject me and forget the feelings it had for me and the tenderness it had.

It was supposed to be the person who would offer their hand in motherly love and humanity, but unfortunately they abandoned me.

I will look for another warm lap but I have not yet found one, nor will I find one because there is no warmer lap than that of my mother.

I wish she knew how much I love her. I wish she knew how much I need her.

Unfortunately the victim has become the tormenter and the tormenter has become the victim.

I cannot continue the story.

Everybody makes fun of me, but I will remain the stronger one and I will remain the special one and whatever I want will happen even if they beat me even if the reject me, even if they call me an infidel, even if they chase me.

I will remain myself, love myself, and stay reconciled with myself and like myself.

It is my turn to forgive or not. What do you think, should I forgive or not? Give me time, give me confidence, give me love, and give me myself if I am to decide to forgive.

 

PS: article translated and edited from a play in Syrian dialect

 
 

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