What It’s Like to Be LGBTQ+ in a War-Torn Middle East

Help. I need help—just like so many LGBTQ+ and neurodivergent friends in Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria who cannot speak out.

Introduction: The Voices Erased by War

Both sides of the war have much to say. But what about us—the silenced, the unseen? What about those erased as if we never existed?

In wars waged for power, it is the vulnerable who vanish first. We endure traumas—imposed from outside and festering within.

How would you feel if everyone pretends that you don’t exist?

What would you do if they considered your very existence as a threat?

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War Creates Survivors, but at What Cost?

Surviving the Unthinkable

In conflict zones like Lebanon, Syria, Israel, and Palestine, survival eclipses everything else. For so many of us—whether we’re Israeli, Palestinian, Lebanese, or Syrian—questions like the below dominate our lives:

• “Will I survive the year?”
• “How can I protect my family?”

The truth is, the war never ends—not in people’s lives and not in their minds. Opposing sides excuse their actions by pointing to each other’s wrongs, but in the end, they’re all passing their trauma down to the next generation.

A Cycle I Refuse to Be Part Of

As I wrote in Breaking the Cycle of Trauma, this is the cycle I refuse to be part of. I won’t contribute to a system that uses pain as a weapon or turns survival into a justification for silencing others.

Supremacy—especially religious supremacy—and toxic masculinity dictate who belongs and who doesn’t, turning vulnerabilities into weapons. War punishes minorities. LGBTQ+ people, neurodivergent individuals, and anyone “different” becomes a target.

At Nineteen, Everything Changed

At nineteen, I lived my truth openly—as a gay man. But in a society built on survival and control, my truth was seen as dangerous, a crack in the fragile facade of power. Some call them freedom fighters; for me, they were my captors. They lured me through a dating site and gave me a cruel ultimatum:

Convert to straight or face the consequences.

I didn’t want to face those consequences. I couldn’t. They held all the power. So without goodbyes, I was dead to everyone I knew.

Erased from My Own Life

I didn’t just lose my friends—I had to erase myself.

• My identity.
• My dreams.
• My hope.

All of it vanished overnight. I became a ghost in my own life. Every day, I woke up knowing my phone, home, and life were under constant surveillance.

One wrong move could cost me everything.

I couldn’t ask for help or tell my story to anyone. Instead, I worked tirelessly to create a life where I could finally be myself and feel safe.

Safety Still Feels Fragile

Today, I live in Germany, a place where I can be myself and feel safe. But that safety feels fragile with the current events. I cannot go back home. The situation over there hasn’t changed. If I were to return, I’d face the same cycle of abuse and trauma I worked so hard to escape. That fear never entirely goes away. Even now, far-right ideologies are rising in places that once felt progressive. The rights I thought were secure suddenly feel fragile, as if the safety I have is conditional and temporary.

Why I’m Sharing This

That’s why I need your help now. If we don’t act now, these cycles of trauma and erasure will only grow stronger, silencing even more voices.

War societies—and those built on fear—punish difference.

In places where survival is the only goal, anyone who doesn’t fit the mold—whether because of identity, neurodivergence, or queerness—is viewed as expendable or dangerous.

This is why I’m asking for your voice—your willingness to listen, share, and stand with those who cannot speak for themselves.

I Need Your Help to Stop the Cycle

Despite the odds, I’m here, and so are countless others who dream of a better future. I survived and escaped, but I don’t want to live in fear of being forced back into the same situation.

This is why, I need your help to break the pattern of polarization—a pattern that doesn’t consider people like me.

A pattern that excuses abuse as a necessity and alienates those of us trapped in the middle.

Whenever we unthinkingly choose a side, we create another victim—someone erased by polarization. Every time we excuse trauma because of “greater causes,” we ignore the people it destroys.

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This Isn’t Just About Me

It is about every LGBTQ+ person, every neurodivergent individual, and everyone who doesn’t fit the mold. We’re the ones who disappear first—erased, forgotten, sacrificed.

This isn’t just about ending war. It’s about hope in a world where no one has to choose between survival and being themselves