My name is “X.” I am 40 years old, and I was born in Gaza. I knew from my teenage years that I was different. I felt attraction toward the same sex, but fear—of religion, society, and family—made me bury this secret deep in my heart.
I kept it hidden from everyone.
A Childhood of Silence
My childhood was not easy. I experienced sexual harassment twice—once when I was five, and again when I was nine. I never dared to tell anyone—not my mother, not my father. I carried that fear and terror alone in my chest.
I was a skinny child, with a soft voice and gentle gestures. At home, they called me “girl” to mock me. In school and on the street, laughter stung like arrows. I had no friends, only a heavy burden of shame.
Pretending Through Life
In university, my peers talked about girls, chased them, bragged about their masculinity. I pretended. I laughed, made up stories—anything to prove I was the “man” they expected.
After graduation, my family pressured me to marry my cousin. I was terrified. No desire, no attraction—nothing. I created problems throughout our four-year engagement just to sabotage the wedding. I hurt her—something I regret to this day—but I was lost and had no choice.
Seeking a “Cure”
I consulted a psychiatrist and asked for treatment to “cure homosexual feelings.” I was prescribed medications like Anafranil. They didn’t cure me. They pushed me deeper into depression and anxiety.
During that time, I met a man working as a building security guard. We shared a brief emotional bond—just kisses, no sex. But fear made me pull away. I told my psychologist about him. Three months later, I heard the shocking news: he was arrested in a raid, beaten, and jailed for being with another man. He was married. His life was destroyed.
I felt guilty, like it was my fault. Fear consumed me again. I vowed to bury my feelings forever.
Marriage and the Lie
Four years later, I got married. I tried to be “normal.” I had sex with my wife—but only with the help of Viagra, even though I had no physical issues. I needed the pills to play a role.
My soul was gone. My body trembled from the lie.
A Crisis of Faith
During those years, I studied religions. I was angry at God—at this deity who made me this way only to punish me. Over time, I came to see religions as human inventions.
I told my wife I no longer believed in Islam. She told her family. Everything changed.
They demanded a divorce. I was torn—I worried about my children, but I also wanted my wife to find someone who could truly love her. Someone who wasn’t pretending.
So we separated.
A Father’s Fear
I now have two children—a daughter and a son. One day, I found my 15-year-old son watching gay content.
My world stopped.
Is he gay? Will he suffer my fate? Will he be jailed, beaten, shamed? I fear for him every moment. I fear he’ll feel the same isolation, anger, and sorrow.
Were it not for antidepressants, I would have ended it all long ago.
Friendship and Loss
I once connected with a fellow gay man from Gaza on Facebook. We spoke for years but never met. One day, I heard he had committed suicide.
I wept as if I lost a brother. His life, like mine, was hidden—oppressed, stifled by shame and fear.
Arrest and Torture
In 2020, I posted criticism of the Muslim Brotherhood and religion on Facebook. Someone reported me.
I was arrested, beaten severely, and detained for a month. In prison, I witnessed hell.
One morning, we woke to screams. A young man was caught kissing another in the bathroom. A prisoner reported them. The guards dragged them out and tortured them brutally. Their screams echoed off the cell walls. I’ll never forget that sound.
The Solitary Room
During Eid, I was granted leave. But one of those two prisoners had taken my sandals by mistake. I asked an officer for them. He led me to a small, windowless room—no larger than one meter by one meter.
Inside stood those two men. Heads shaved, bodies covered in injuries. Silent, ghost-like.
I couldn’t sleep for days.
Life for Gay People Under Hamas
Life under Hamas in Gaza shows no mercy to gay people. We are persecuted, humiliated, beaten—and sometimes killed by our own families before the police can reach us.
There is no law to protect us. No doctor listens. No one sees us as human.
Gaza’s Legal Framework and Enforcement
Gaza enforces the Palestinian Penal Code No. 74 of 1936, a British-era law.
Article 152 states:
“Whoever commits an unnatural sexual act shall be punished by imprisonment for up to ten years.”
The term “unnatural” is commonly interpreted to include consensual homosexual relations.
While rarely enforced in court, this law is regularly used to justify arbitrary arrests, public shaming, and torture.
Systemic Persecution by Hamas
Since seizing power in 2007, Hamas has pursued a severe, systematic crackdown on gay people:
- Arbitrary arrest upon suspicion
- Physical and psychological torture
- Security clearances used for blackmail
- Detention in isolated, dark cells without dignity or care
Global Testimonies
International human rights organizations and UN reports have documented the abuse of LGBTQ+ people in Gaza. Testimonies on platforms like Queering the Map describe men living in fear, isolation, and trauma.
“I just want to love without being killed for it.”
— A young man from Gaza
The Case of Mahmoud Ishtawi
In 2016, Hamas executed a senior military figure, Mahmoud Ishtawi, a field commander in the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades. The official reason was “moral corruption and embezzlement.”
But international media—The Irish Times, Newsweek—reported hidden allegations of homosexual behavior. His family received no clear explanation and wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral. Sources described signs of torture. The silence around his death tells a story.
Ishtawi’s case reflects a chilling truth: even suspicion of homosexuality in Gaza can mean death.
I Still Breathe
All I want now is a peaceful life—for my son and for me.
I don’t want him to repeat my cycle. I don’t want him to fear his own body, soul, or emotions. I don’t want him to perform his whole life like I did.
In Gaza, being gay means living alone, terrified, broken, under a regime that sees your identity as a disease to be erased.
But despite everything… I am still breathing.
I am still writing.
Maybe my voice will reach someone.
✍️ Written by “X” — a pseudonym for safety
If you are struggling, you are not alone.
Source:
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1AM3cAjoCy
