To be Queer is to Live in a State of Fear

To be Seen is to be Known

I’m just going to come out and say it—I’m gay and Muslim. But why should that matter? Why should the fact that I, a woman, want to marry another woman someday have anything to do with the faith I choose to practice? I mean, who even cares what I do with another consenting adult? Actually, a lot of people care—a lot of powerful and influential people.

To be Known is to be at Risk

When you love something, you have to be prepared to criticize it. This is the only way our world can become a more just place for everyone. As much as I love my Arab culture and understand that representations of the Middle East are often unjust, I also realize that not everything in the media is untrue. In this case, the Middle East is not a safe place for queer folk like me. It’s important to acknowledge that every country varies, with some being more tolerant than others regarding queer identity expression.

The government of my country of origin, Iraq, penalizes those involved in 'same-sex relationships' with 10–15 years in prison, and those who “promote homosexuality” can be subjected to seven years imprisonment. Transgender individuals aren’t safe either. Trans women face up to three years in prison for expressing their gender identity. Iraq isn’t an outlier—its neighbor, Iran, hung two men in 2022 for engaging in sexual intercourse with each other. Yemen, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar also uphold laws that punish “homosexual acts” with imprisonment, fines, and even death. 

With laws like these, it is no surprise that many people in the West believe that all Muslims and Middle Eastern folk despise queer individuals. However, I want to stress that the Middle East isn’t the only place that discriminates against queer individuals. The United States has never truly been a safe space for queer folks, with 527 anti-LGBTQ+ bills being introduced across the nation threatening to take away gender-affirming care, sports bans, curriculum censorship, etc. Hate crimes based on sexual orientation have been on the rise, with 2,402 incidents being reported in 2023—meaning that 1 out of 5 incidents of hate crime are motivated by anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments.

When I tell people that I’m gay and Muslim, many of them are shocked. I can’t blame them. With many Muslims both in the media and in local communities spewing anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric and many members of the queer community denouncing all religions, of course, it would come as a surprise that someone like me exists, out and proud. It must be stressed, though, that I’m not the only one.

To be at Risk is to be Silenced

The justification for these punishments is that homosexuality goes against Islam. Obviously, as a devout Muslim and queer woman, I don’t buy that. I’m not going to argue in this article why I don’t believe being gay is against Islam, but I encourage readers to research the matter on their own. What I want to emphasize is that, regardless of whether they believe being gay is sinful or not, there are numerous practicing Muslims who are in queer relationships, but many of them remain in hiding. 

The reality is that oppressive laws cannot and will not actually reduce the amount of queer folk that exist in our society. All these laws accomplish is keeping queer folk ashamed of their sexuality and/or their gender identity, afraid to ever express themselves authentically in any way. While it is true that throughout history there have been queer folk who openly expressed themselves without shame, the reality is that many of us feel forced to silence ourselves and suppress the aspects of our identity that truly make life worth living.

To be Silenced is to be Exterminated

A society that successfully silences a group within itself will only succeed in suppressing that society’s ability to tolerate gender and sexual diversity. If governments in the Middle East continue to perpetuate the stigma that queer folk are sexual deviants who go against Islam and punish them with imprisonment and death for something we cannot control or change, then these governments will succeed in forcing queer folks to go into hiding—but they will never succeed in eliminating queerness from humanity.

From global conflicts (i.e. mass atrocities perpetrated by the Israeli government against Palestinians, Russia’s forceful seizure of Crimea in Ukraine, exploiting children in the Congo for lithium extraction, and the power struggle in Sudan) it is clear that if a tyrannical regime wants to rid itself of an unwanted group, it will take every effort to silence that group from both within its society and from the outside world. Removing all records of a group’s existence—regardless of how much that group contributed to culture and social progression—is the best way to erase that group from society. How many minority groups have been completely wiped from humanity’s history because someone sought their extinction due to their ethnicity, sexuality, religion, etc.? The reality is that we may never know. 

By attempting to remove all traces of sexual and gender diversity from their countries, governments in the Middle East will succeed in showing the rest of the world that queer folk can be forced into hiding with enough effort. These governments will further cement the idea that the Middle East has always been and will always be a place unsafe for queer folk—which is untrue, as two men from the same social class were able to have sex without punishment in ancient Assyria (now modern-day Iraq). It is the responsibility of those of us aware of these issues to ensure that the erasure of minorities does not happen.

To Refuse Extermination, We Must Refuse to be Silenced

Something queer religious folk (especially queer Muslims) can learn from the Palestinians is their refusal to be silenced. I mentioned earlier that exterminating a group happens when that group is silenced and tossed aside. Therefore, it makes sense that to combat extermination, we must refuse to be silent. It may seem naive to some—the idea that simply coming out as queer, Muslim, and/or Middle Eastern can end the suffering of those in the Middle East and change the stigma that Middle Eastern folk are homophobic—but I think this truly is the answer.

By refusing to be silent about our identities, we as queer folk are proving that we will not be afraid to publicly embrace ourselves and live happily in a world that may not want us. Increased numbers of people who are both queer and Muslim will prove that a group can continue to exist even when their existence is outlawed. It will show that attempts to exterminate a group will prove unsuccessful because our desire to exist freely is much stronger than the fear that keeps us in hiding. We must not let hateful people prevent us from embracing all aspects of who we are, simply because they believe these aspects cannot coexist. 

I dream that one day I will be able to go to Iraq and explore the land of my ancestors while holding my future wife’s hand without fear of persecution. I dream that one day, my Muslim trans-siblings will be able to practice their faith without being rejected or harmed. I dream of a world where love triumphs over hate. But until then, all I’ve got are my Quran, my rainbow flag, and hope.

The views, thoughts and opinions expressed in this blog are the author’s only and do not reflect an official position of the University of Minnesota, the Human Rights Program, or the College of Liberal Arts. As an institution of higher education that values and promotes free speech, civil discourse, and human rights we welcome a variety of perspectives and opinions from our student contributors that are consistent with these values.