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LGBTQ people are being hunted down in Afghanistan

Homosexuality punishable by death under Taliban Sharia law interpretation

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Two men in Kabul, Afghanistan, in July 2021 (Photo courtesy of Dr. Ahmad Qais Munzahim)

Kabul was known as one of the few “liberalā€ cities in Afghanistan. The word liberal is in quotation marks, and inflected, because it is liberal compared to the rest of the country. Now that the Taliban has taken over, most people who expressed themselves differently and openly are forced to adhere to Sharia law, completely change their ways, hide their identity, or be killed.

The U.S. State Department reported in 2020 that even before the Taliban took power in August, LGBTQ people in Afghanistan faced ā€œdiscrimination, assault and rapeā€ and ā€œhomosexuality was widely seen as taboo and indecent.ā€ Laws against lesbian, gay and transgender people made their existence illegal and punishable by up to two years in jail. Those laws were not always enforced, but they did leave LGBTQ people at risk of extortion and abuse by authorities, as reported by the U.K. government.

Even with the discrimination and abuse, LGBTQ people still had a sliver of space in society. Nemat Sadat, an LGBTQ Afghan author living in the United States said that gay, lesbian and transgender people helped the countryā€™s cultural life develop since the Talibanā€™s last rule 20 years ago. But, most of these people built their lives quietly.

Now with the Taliban regime, their sliver of space in society is gone, there is no room to live quietly as an openly LGBTQ person. Under the Talibanā€™s interpretation of Sharia law, homosexuality is punished by death.

In an interview with Reuters, Waheedullah Hashimi, a top decision maker for the Taliban said, ā€œthere will be no democratic system at all because it does not have a base in our country,ā€ and continued to say, ā€œwhat type of political system should we apply in Afghanistan is clear. It is sharia law and that is it.ā€

One source spoke to a 20-year-old university student who is lesbian in Afghanistan.Ā Her family accepted her as a lesbian, but now the new Taliban leadership has put the lives of all of her family at risk.Ā There is a new surge of violence against any lesbian, gay and transgender people.Ā This includes anyone speculated of being lesbian, gay, or trans, and those who support them.

This young lesbian woman has gone into hiding. She is part of hundreds of LGBTQ people in Afghanistan who are pleading with advocates and organizations outside Afghanistan for help to escape the Taliban tyranny.

Nemat Sadat shares stories of lesbian, gay and trans people in hiding. He shared a story of a gay man who watched from his hiding place in the ceiling as Taliban fighters beat the friend who refused to disclose his location.  

LGBTQ people in Afghanistan fear the risk of being arrested, beaten and killed.Ā The Taliban made it clear that it is enforcing its strict religious laws against Afghanistanā€™s LGBTQ citizens. In an interview with Germanyā€™s Bild newspaper, one Taliban judge said there were only two punishments for homosexuality: ā€œstoning or being crushed under a wall.ā€

LGBTQ people in Afghanistan are reporting that their friends, partners and members of their community are being attacked and raped.Ā They also stated that Islamic fundamentalists and riotous groups are encouraged by the new tyranny and are on the hunt for LGBTQ people.

Another source shared that a gay man was targeted for his sexuality and then raped by his male attackers. That is a terrible paradox. He was raped by his male attackers, who criminalizing him for having same sex relations.

LGBTQ people are in hiding, desperately trying to get out of the country, and trying to erase any proof of their queer identity.

They feel abandoned by the international LGBTQ community. The Taliban is proving that the Western nations have normalized relations to their government. The Taliban and their supporters see this a proof of their victory. This leaves LGBTQ people defeated and fearing torture and death.

The U.S. government and other Western countries evacuated many people out of Afghanistan, including journalists, womenā€™s rights activists and those who worked with foreigners.Ā But, LGBTQ activists said that nothing has been done for them.Ā A source says about her situation, ā€œwe will definitely be killed.Ā We are asking to be evacuated immediately from Afghanistan.ā€Ā To date, no safe route has been found.

Even underground measures to help LGBTQ people are challenging and near impossible. The Rainbow Railroad is a non-governmental organization helping LGBTQ people around the world escape persecution. Executive Director Kimahli Powell said evacuating LGBTQ people from Afghanistan is especially hard as they are often alone, in hiding, and unable to contact each other. If routes to get them out is nearly impossible, that still means those routes are somewhat possible. As difficult as it may be, we must find pathways to save these people and get them out.

The Taliban regime has established itself, knowing with certainty that the world will stand aside, albeit condemning and protesting, but not intervening. This is empowering jihadists across the world, especially in the Middle East. The Taliban has many allies and admirers, including the Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) and Hamas. 

The leader of Hamas, Ismail Haniyeh, travelled from Palestinian territories to meet with Taliban leaders in Qatar. The Palestinian Islamic Jihad has a history of ties to the Taliban, even with radicals joining each other’s organizations. Very public statements of congratulations were made between leaders of the Taliban, Hamas, and Palestinian Islamic Jihad, and all with full Iranian support.

The increase in brazen forcefulness of these groups reaches beyond Afghanistan, and spreads to the lands dominated by other similar groups. This causes an escalation of the threats to anyone who opposes Sharia law or who lives differently than what Sharia law allows. LGBTQ people in these lands are in peril. 

If we do not help LGBTQ people in Afghanistan, the lives of LGBTQ people under other similar tyrannies face increased uncertainty and danger.

Since posting this video, I have been receiving direct messages from LGBTQ people in hiding in Afghanistan, and those who are seeking to be evacuated. They all share harrowing experiences of being attacked, raped, and threatened by Taliban, Islamic State and bullying groups.

Yuval David is an innovative actor, host and filmmaker with a creative mantra to entertain, uplift and inspire. He is a captivating performer and compelling storyteller who uses his platform for sharing narratives that affect social change, specifically on behalf of highly respected U.S. and international organizations that raise awareness for the marginalized and under-represented, inspired by his LGBTQ+ and Jewish identity, and his Israeli-American roots.

He can be reached through social media

YouTube.com/YuvalDavid

Instagram.com/Yuval_David_

Facebook.com/YuvalDavid

Twitter.com/YuvalDavid

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Sexting with younger guy has me asking: How queer am I?

Reflections on LGBTQ life in 2024

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Jake Stewart is a recovering Hill staffer based in D.C. In addition to writing, he barbacks at the Little Gay Pub."

Once upon a time, not all that long ago, a man sexted another man. 

There were words. There were pictures. There were filthy questions and even filthier responses. You know, the way a good sexting convo ought to be, for those who dabble. 

One man was 33. The other, 24. And while it comes as no shock that I was the 33-year-old, it may be more surprising to learn it was the 24-year-old who grabbed the reins. 

What kinks you into? he asked. 

Shit ā€“ I didnā€™t know. I barely even bottomed before the pandemic, and now I had to know my kinks? 

Iā€™m open, I replied, evasively. You? 

His response left me coughing: ā€œLove musk sweat ws public group rough bb verbal bate edge roleplay and very open-minded.ā€ 

Now Iā€™m no prude (in fact, many would call me a downright whore) but this young man articulating his kinks and fetishes in such detail blew my mind. When did he learn what he liked? At 24, all I wanted was to top a guy and leave with as little communication or attachment as possible. At 33, I wasnā€™t sure what a few of the items he listed even meant.  

Perhaps I shouldnā€™t be surprised when young men ā€” and the younger generation across the LGBTQ spectrum in general ā€” have already figured out their sexual interests. I arrived in D.C. from Idaho in 2008 as a fresh-faced 18-year-old; I came out three years later in 2011. Attitudes toward queerness have shifted substantially since then, and these days it is undeniably easier for younger people to explore their sexual and gender identities (which, by the way, is fantastic). 

But this conversation left me wondering: What do I like? I havenā€™t sought out that many new sexual experiences, and while fetishes, kinks, and sexual desires can seem trivial, theyā€™re inextricably intertwined with gender and relationships. If I canā€™t articulate what I like in the sack (or in public, if I dare), then how do I know what Iā€™m seeking from a long-term partner, or if thatā€™s even what I want? 

As soon as I came out, I thought my job was done. All I needed after that was to snatch up a cutie and settle down. Instead, my identity centered on building my career in politics, where sexual openness isnā€™t as appreciated. I, like many D.C. queers around me, moved here bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to change the world for good. 

Then came a tough lesson: Just because I wanted to improve the world didnā€™t mean people wanted me to. I was inexplicably fired from not one job but two, and suddenly the do-gooder in me grew jaded. The career I dedicated years to was suddenly ripped from my hands, and I became so disillusioned I didnā€™t even want it back. Oh, and the cherry on top: My boyfriend dumped me two days later. 

Once everything unraveled, I wondered: Was the me of the past the me I truly wanted? Or was I reflecting back what I thought everyone wanted me to be? 

Well, a few major meltdowns and an extended slut phase later, my life couldnā€™t be more different. I now work at a new gay bar in town to support myself, and Iā€™ve given myself space to pursue the arts. This former straight-laced, type-A, tightly wound gay abandoned the safe track and he couldnā€™t be more terrified. He also couldnā€™t be more excited. 

But losing my old career also left an existential-sized hole in my identity. So, as I sexted this 24-year-old with newfound awareness of my limitations, I decided this must change. 

How? As I said, I work at a gay bar in one of the queerest cities in America. Now more than ever Iā€™m surrounded by those who are LGBTQ and every shade in between. Why not learn from those around me, whether younger, older, or around the same age, but whose experiences are no less queer? Why not carve out time to have in-depth discussions and discover what the possibilities are? 

If being queer means to go against the established norms of gender and sexuality, then thereā€™s still plenty of territory for me to explore. No longer can ā€˜bottomā€™ or ā€˜topā€™ be my only options. 

So, the purpose of this column ā€“ aptly titled Queer Quest ā€“ is to capture my exploration of queer identity. Itā€™s not to teach you as much as it is to teach myself, and you can either learn alongside me or simply be entertained. At the very least, Iā€™ll have a series of portraits on what itā€™s like to be queer in the mid 2020s. At most, Iā€™ll have a better understanding of who I am as a queer person. 

Then maybe, just maybe, Iā€™ll become a better sexter. 

Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer.

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What will you do to make Pride safe this year?

Anxiety reigns among American Jews after Oct. 7

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews and supporters of Israel attend Pride marches. With a few exceptions, these spaces have always been safe and welcoming for the broader Pride community. 

But this year is different. 

For American Jews, anxiety reigns as we head into this Pride season. The appalling rise of antisemitism since Oct. 7 forces us to ask difficult questions. As many Jews increasingly feel alienated and excluded from progressive spaces, weā€™re left to wonder: If I wear a Jewish symbol, march with a Jewish group, or wave a rainbow flag adorned with the Star of David, will I be safe at Pride?

Even before Oct. 7, LGBTQ Jews had plenty of reason to feel trepidation about their safety at Pride. From blanket bans on Stars of David at past Pride gatherings to antisemitism on display at the recent Sydney Pride, too often Jews feel forced to choose between their LGBTQ and Jewish identities and hide their connection to Israel.

Since Oct. 7, terms like “apartheid,” “genocide” and “Zionism equals racism” are increasingly thrown around casually, often without a nuanced understanding of their impact or the realities they oversimplify. This rhetoric not only alienates but also endangers Jewish queer people. It makes us feel emotionally unsafe. It increases the chances that we will be physically unsafe as well. 

We must not allow the Israel-Palestine conflict to be imported into Pride.

I will always remember the euphoria of the first Pride rally I attended. I was barely 18 years old, in a crowd of people of all ages, races, genders and gender orientations ā€” and they were like me. Queer. It felt safe. It was the first time I experienced that feeling of safety, and it will always stay with me. 

Like Pride events everywhere, it was a vibrant, colorful space for LGBTQ people to celebrate our true authentic selves, without fear or reservation.

But that feeling of safety wasnā€™t shared by everyone in my small New England town. I soon noticed a few people scattered throughout the crowd wearing paper bags over their heads, with eye holes so they could see but not be seen. I later learned that those faceless people were teachers who, in those days before civil rights protections, needed to protect their identities and their careers. 

They did not feel safe. Will Jews and those who are connected to Israel feel safe this year?

The history of Pride is a testament to courage in the face of adversity. It wasn’t long ago when attending Pride events was a defiant act against societal norms, where participants like those teachers faced tangible threats of discrimination, ridicule and even violence. Even today in some places, our queer community still navigates a gauntlet of hatred as we try to celebrate who we are.

It’s crucial to recognize that within the Jewish community, there is a wide spectrum of views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, including many who are deeply committed to advocating for Palestinian rights. In fact, many of the 1,200 innocent Israelis murdered on Oct. 7 were Zionists who devoted their lives to reconciliation and peace with their Arab neighbors.

We are at a pivotal moment, one that demands action: What can we do to ensure Pride remains a safe space for everyone, including Jewish participants?

It’s imperative that Pride committees around the country proactively address these concerns. They must implement training programs focused on de-escalation and fostering an environment of understanding and respect.

As individuals who stand in solidarity with the values of Pride, each of us must consider our role in this effort. Will you march alongside those of us who feel vulnerable, offering your presence as a shield against intolerance? Will you engage in dialogues that challenge the importation of external conflicts into Pride, advocating instead for a celebration that unites rather than divides?

The true test of inclusivity at Pride lies not merely in welcoming a diverse crowd, but in ensuring that every participant feels safe and valued. If we remain indifferent to the vulnerabilities faced by Jewish queer people this Pride season, we will fall short of the very ideals of inclusivity and solidarity that Pride stands for.

Just as we expect schools to protect trans and nonbinary students like Nex Benedict, we have a responsibility in the LGBTQ community to ensure that people can carry an Israeli flag or a Palestinian flag, wear a yarmulke or a hijab and be safe.

As we look forward to this year’s Pride, let us commit to making it a space where safety is not a privilege afforded to some but a right enjoyed by all. Let’s engage with our local Pride committees, advocate for comprehensive safety measures and stand in solidarity with those who feel at risk.Ā 

Only then can we celebrate the true spirit of Pride, rooted in love, acceptance and the unwavering belief in equality for all.

Ethan Felson is the executive director of A Wider Bridge.

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A hero has fallen: A tribute to Mike Berman

Former HRC board co-chair was a sophisticated political adviser

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(Blade file photo by Michael Key)

A great hero has fallen. He was a gift to many but all should know that he was one of the greatest gifts ever to the LGBTQ community. Mike Berman was among the most sophisticated political advisers in the history of this country. For the past three generations he has advised presidents, and an army of elected officials, strategists, and operatives. Mike was among a handful of straight people elected to the board of the Human Rights Campaign, the nationā€™s largest civil rights organization working to advance gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender equality. He was so trusted, he was then elected to co-chair the board of that institution. 

Like so many, I feel so blessed and grateful to have had the benefit of Mikeā€™s wisdom and insight throughout my tenure as president of the Human Rights Campaign. He went on to be a key adviser to each and every HRC leader and a true champion of equality. 

He told us that to know us was to love us and how to slay political dragons in a new way.  A life-long Democrat, his political acumen was brilliant and rooted in finding practical solutions across political lines. He understood back in 1995 (when my tenure began) that over time, most Americans would shed their bias and come to see LGBTQ Americans as worthy of dignity and equality. 

In many ways, Mike was one of the key architects of how HRC was able to forge relationships and garner support from unlikely parts of the political spectrum. I learned so much from Michael about the way social change actually takes place. He more than anyone understood that progress cannot be made and this nation will not be healed unless both parties come together around shared values. In our time, that feels like an impossible formula. Yet the majority of this ruthlessly divided Congress voted to uphold marriage equality last year. 

In addition to the LGBTQ community, Mike was a true believer in female leadership. He helped a legion of women rise to positions of power in Washington and beyond. He did so for the sheer joy of watching women rise in politics and as captains of industry. He grew up in an Orthodox Jewish family in Duluth, Minn. His father was Bob Dylanā€™s godfather. (You have to love a state that can produce Bob Dylan, Prince and, of course, Mike Berman!) He was also a beloved gentleman. There was nothing more special than a lunch and a rose at I Ricchi, one of his favorite D.C. restaurants.  

Each year, Mike would host a special Valentineā€™s Lunch for a wide variety of women, all dear friends and colleagues. Even in the face of medical challenges, he soldiered on. The invitations to this yearā€™s Valentineā€™s lunch went out last week. 

I am a direct beneficiary of Mikeā€™s love and counsel. The Human Rights Campaign family will forever cherish him. Our love and support goes out to Mikeā€™s family, friends and his wonderful wife, Debbie Cowan. 

Elizabeth Birch is former president of HRC.

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