www.ambiente.us FEBRUARY / FEBRERO 2008
Gays Living in Shadows of New Iraq
By Cara Buckley
BAGHDAD — In a city and country where outsiders are viewed with
deep suspicion and attracting attention can imperil one’s life,
Mohammed could never blend in, even if he wanted to.
Mohammed, 37, has been openly gay for much of his adult life. For
him, this has meant growing his hair long and taking estrogen. In the
past, he said, that held little danger. As is true throughout the Middle
East, men have always been publicly affectionate here.
But, at least until recently, Mohammed and many of his gay friends
went one step further, slipping into lovers’ houses late at night. And, until the American invasion, they
said, Iraqi society had quietly accepted them.
But being openly gay is not an option in the new Iraq, where the rise of religious extremism has left
Mohammed and his gay friends feeling especially vilified.
In January, a United Nations report described the increased persecution, torture and extrajudicial killing of
Iraqi lesbians and gay men. In 2005, Iraq’s most revered Shiite cleric, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani,
issued a fatwa, or religious decree, calling for gay men and lesbians to be killed in the “worst, most
severe way.�
He lifted it a year later, but neither that nor the recent ebb in violence has made Mohammed or his friends
feel safe. They yearn to leave Iraq, but do not have the money or visas. They agreed to be interviewed on the
condition that their last names not be used.
They described an underground existence, eked out behind drawn curtains in a dingy safe house in
southwestern Baghdad. Five people share the apartment — four gay men and one woman, who says she
is bisexual. They have moved six times in the last three years, just ahead, they say, of neighborhood raids by
Shiite and Sunni death squads. Even seemingly benign neighborhood gossip can scare them enough to
move.
“We seem suspicious because we look like a cell of terrorists,� said Mohammed, nervously fingering
the lapel of his shirt. “But we can’t tell people what we really are. A cell, yes, but of gays.�
His hand drifted to his newly shorn hair. He had lopped it off days earlier. There had been reports of
extremists stopping long-haired men, shearing their hair and forcing them to eat it.
It is impossible to say how many gay men and women face persecution in Iraq. According to an Iraqi gay
rights group, run by a former disc jockey in Baghdad named Ali Hili who now lives in London, 400 people
have been killed in Iraq since 2003 for being gay.
Set against the many thousands of civilians and soldiers killed in the war, the number is small. But for Mr.
Hili, and Mohammed and his friends, it is a painful barometer of just how far Iraq has shifted from its
secular past.
For a brief, exhilarating time, from the mid-1980s until the early 1990s, they say, gay night life flourished in
Iraq. Whereas neighboring Iran turned inward after its Islamic revolution in 1979, Baghdad allowed a
measure of liberation after the end of the Iran-Iraq war.
Abu Nawas Boulevard, which hugs the Tigris River opposite what is now the Green Zone, became a
promenade known for cruising. Discos opened in the city’s best hotels, the Ishtar Sheraton, the
Palestine and Saddam Hussein’s prized Al-Rasheed Hotel, becoming magnets for gay men. Young
men with rouged cheeks and glossed lips paraded the streets of Mansour, an affluent neighborhood in
Baghdad.
“There were so many guys, from Kuwait, from Saudi Arabia, guys in the street with makeup,� said Mr.
Hili, who left Iraq in 2000. “Up until 1991, there was sexual freedom. It was a revolutionary time.�
Then came the Persian Gulf war, and afterward Saddam Hussein put an end to nightclubs. Iraq staggered
under the yoke of economic sanctions. While antigay laws were increasingly enforced, Mohammed and Mr.
Hili said they still felt safe. Homosexuality seemed accepted, as long as it was practiced in private. And even
when it was not tolerated, prison time could be evaded with a well-placed bribe.
The American invasion was expected to usher in better times.
“We thought that with the presence of Americans, life would become paradise, that Iraq would be
Westernized,� Mohammed said. “But unfortunately the way things were before was so much better
than where we are now.�
One night shortly after Saddam Hussein fell, American soldiers burst into the apartment that Mohammed
shared with his two brothers. They were looking for insurgents, but took one look at Mohammed, with his
long hair and shapely body wrapped in a robe, and teased him, he said.
“What are you, a lady man?� he remembered them barking. “A boy? Or a girl?� They turned to
one of Mohammed’s brothers, “Who is this?� they asked, “Your girlfriend?�
The news raced through Mohammed’s building. “All my neighbors came to know that I was gay,�
he said. “My brother said, ‘Mohammed, leave the house; you can’t live here anymore.’�
He rented another apartment, and was soon joined by some gay friends. They moved nine months later,
after suspicious neighbors began to talk. Nine months after that, they moved again. They came to rely on
remittances sent by Mr. Hili, who raises money for them in London.
Mr. Hili taps a network of acquaintances in Baghdad to ferret out safe houses, and pays extra for landlords
to alert him to possible trouble. He says he supports about 32 people.
Few work, though one of Mohammed’s roommates, Amjad, who is 33 and has manicured eyebrows
and feathered hair, said he sometimes sleeps with an older man for money. “He loves me, but I hate
him,� Amjad said. “He is jealous and ugly.�
One of Mohammed’s friends, a 25-year-old law student named Rafi, said he was especially desperate
to get out of Iraq. It is a sentiment shared by millions of Iraqis, but Rafi believes his future here is especially
bleak. The influence from Iran is growing, he said. And in Iran, homosexuality is often punishable by death.
“I want to get out, but not just out of Iraq, out of the Middle East,� Rafi said, “to a country that has
respect for human rights. And for us.�
He paused, casting his eyes downward. “It will never be possible here.�
La sombrÃa vida de los gays en el nuevo Irak
Por Cara Buckley
En una ciudad y un paÃs donde los forasteros son vistos de manera sospechosa y el llamar la atención
puede poner en riesgo la vida, Mohammed jamás pudo encajar, por más que hubiese querido.
Mohammed, de 37 años, ha sido abiertamente gay durante la mayor parte de su vida adulta. Para él,
esto significó dejar crecer su cabello y tomar estrógeno. En el pasado, según contó, esto no generaba
ningún peligro. Como se acostumbra en el Medio Oriente, los hombres siempre han sido muy afectuosos
entre sÃ.
Incluso, hasta no hace mucho tiempo atrás, Mohammed y muchos de sus amigos gays se permitÃan ir
más allá, ingresando en las casas de sus amantes durante la noche. Y, al menos hasta la invasión de
los Estados Unidos, la sociedad iraquà los habÃa aceptado tÃmidamente.
Ser abiertamente gay hoy en dÃa no es una opción en el nuevo Irak, donde el ascenso de la religión
extremista ha dejado a Mohammed y a sus amigos gays sintiéndose intensamente difamados,
discriminados y perseguidos.
En el mes de enero, un reporte de las Naciones Unidas describió la creciente persecución, tortura y
ejecución extrajudicial de gays y lesbianas iraquÃes. En el año 2005, el clérigo más respetado de Irak,
Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, emitió un decreto religioso que indicaba la ejecución de gays y lesbianas
"de la forma más severa y violenta posible".
Una año más tarde el decreto fue levantado, pero ni eso ni el reciente reflujo de violencia han logrado que
Mohammed o sus amigos se sintieran seguros. Ellos ansÃan abandonar Irak, pero no cuentan con el
dinero ni con las visas para lograrlo. Ellos estuvieron de acuerdo en ser entrevistados siempre y cuando
sus apellidos no fuesen publicados.
Ellos consiguieron refugio, escondidos tras gruesas cortinas, en una casa en el sudoeste de Baghdad.
Cinco personas comparten el apartamento; cuatro hombres gays y una mujer que se define como
bisexual. Ya han tenido que mudarse seis veces en los últimos tres años, escapando de los
escuadrones que los perseguÃan. Incluso los simples chismes de los vecinos los hacen sentirse
perseguidos y los empuja a mudarse.
"Logramos generar sospechas porque parecemos una célula terrorista" declaró Mohammed. "Pero no
podemos decirle a la gente lo que realmente somos. Una célula, si, pero de gays".
Ahora su cabello luce corto. Existen reportes de extremistas que han capturado a hombres de cabello largo
y los han obligado a cortárselo y a comérselo.
Es imposible saber cuantos hombres gays y mujeres lesbianas están siendo perseguidos en Irak
actualmente. De acuerdo a un grupo de derechos de los gays iraquÃes, dirigido por Ali Hili quien
actualmente vive en Londres, 400 personas han sido asesinadas desde el año 2003 por el simple hecho
de ser gays.
Comparados con los muchos miles de civiles y soldados muertos en guerra, el número es pequeño.
Pero para Hili, Mohammed y sus amigos, es un doloroso barómetro de cuánto han cambiado las polÃ
ticas de Irak en comparación con su secular pasado.
Por un breve perÃodo, desde mediados de los 80 hasta principios de los 90, se dice que la vida nocturna
de la comunidad gay habÃa florecido en Irak. Mientras que su vecino, Irán, se volvÃa más cerrado luego
de la revolución islámica del año 1979, Baghdad permitÃa una pequeña medida de liberación luego
de la guerra Irán-Irak.
Luego, llegó la Guerra del Golfo y Saddam Hussein le puso fin a la vida nocturna. Irak se tambaleaba bajo
el yugo de sanciones económicas. Mientras las leyes anti-gays comenzaban a ser sancionadas,
Mohammed y Hili aseguran que todavÃa se sentÃan seguros. La homosexualidad parecÃa ser aceptada,
siempre y cuando fuese practicada en privado. Incluso cuando no era tolerada, la condena a prisión podÃ
a ser evitada con un buen soborno.
La invasión norteamericana parecÃa que iba a traer aires de cambio positivos.
"Nosotros pensábamos que con la presencia de los norteamericanos, la vida iba a ser un paraÃso, que
Irak se iba a occidentalizar", aseguró Mohammed. "Pero, desafortunadamente, las cosas eran mucho
mejor antes a como son ahora".
Hili cuenta con una red de conocidos en Baghdad que lo ayudan a encontrar casas seguras para los
miembros de la comunidad gay y además, les paga extra a los propietarios para que lo alerten ante
cualquier amenaza. Hili asegura que actualmente se encuentra ayudando a 32 personas.
Algunos de ellos trabajan, aunque uno de los compañeros de Mohammed, Amjad, de 33 años, asegura
que algunas veces tiene sexo con un hombre mayor a cambio de dinero. "Él está enamorado de mi, pero
yo lo odio", confiesa Amjad. "Es celoso y muy desagradable".
Otro de los amigos de Mohammed, un estudiante de abogacÃa de 25 años de edad llamado Rafi,
asegura estar desesperado por escapar de Iraq. Este es un sentimiento compartido por millones de
iraquÃes, pero Rafi cree que su futuro aquà es particularmente sombrÃo. La influencia de Irán está
creciendo, asegura. Y en Irán, la homosexualidad suele ser castigada con la muerte.
"Me quiero ir, pero no solamente de Irak, sino de todo Medio Oriente", confesó Rafi. "Quiero vivir en un paÃ
s donde exista respeto por los Derechos Humanos y por nosotros. Eso nunca va a ser posible aquÃ
adentro".
© Traducción de Esteban Rico para SentidoG.com
Copyright © NYTimes, Sentidog.com & AMBIENTE MAGAZINE. Do not reproduce without citing this source.
Gays Living in Shadows of New Iraq
By Cara Buckley
BAGHDAD — In a city and country where outsiders are viewed with
deep suspicion and attracting attention can imperil one’s life,
Mohammed could never blend in, even if he wanted to.
Mohammed, 37, has been openly gay for much of his adult life. For
him, this has meant growing his hair long and taking estrogen. In the
past, he said, that held little danger. As is true throughout the Middle
East, men have always been publicly affectionate here.
But, at least until recently, Mohammed and many of his gay friends
went one step further, slipping into lovers’ houses late at night. And, until the American invasion, they
said, Iraqi society had quietly accepted them.
But being openly gay is not an option in the new Iraq, where the rise of religious extremism has left
Mohammed and his gay friends feeling especially vilified.
In January, a United Nations report described the increased persecution, torture and extrajudicial killing of
Iraqi lesbians and gay men. In 2005, Iraq’s most revered Shiite cleric, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani,
issued a fatwa, or religious decree, calling for gay men and lesbians to be killed in the “worst, most
severe way.�
He lifted it a year later, but neither that nor the recent ebb in violence has made Mohammed or his friends
feel safe. They yearn to leave Iraq, but do not have the money or visas. They agreed to be interviewed on the
condition that their last names not be used.
They described an underground existence, eked out behind drawn curtains in a dingy safe house in
southwestern Baghdad. Five people share the apartment — four gay men and one woman, who says she
is bisexual. They have moved six times in the last three years, just ahead, they say, of neighborhood raids by
Shiite and Sunni death squads. Even seemingly benign neighborhood gossip can scare them enough to
move.
“We seem suspicious because we look like a cell of terrorists,� said Mohammed, nervously fingering
the lapel of his shirt. “But we can’t tell people what we really are. A cell, yes, but of gays.�
His hand drifted to his newly shorn hair. He had lopped it off days earlier. There had been reports of
extremists stopping long-haired men, shearing their hair and forcing them to eat it.
It is impossible to say how many gay men and women face persecution in Iraq. According to an Iraqi gay
rights group, run by a former disc jockey in Baghdad named Ali Hili who now lives in London, 400 people
have been killed in Iraq since 2003 for being gay.
Set against the many thousands of civilians and soldiers killed in the war, the number is small. But for Mr.
Hili, and Mohammed and his friends, it is a painful barometer of just how far Iraq has shifted from its
secular past.
For a brief, exhilarating time, from the mid-1980s until the early 1990s, they say, gay night life flourished in
Iraq. Whereas neighboring Iran turned inward after its Islamic revolution in 1979, Baghdad allowed a
measure of liberation after the end of the Iran-Iraq war.
Abu Nawas Boulevard, which hugs the Tigris River opposite what is now the Green Zone, became a
promenade known for cruising. Discos opened in the city’s best hotels, the Ishtar Sheraton, the
Palestine and Saddam Hussein’s prized Al-Rasheed Hotel, becoming magnets for gay men. Young
men with rouged cheeks and glossed lips paraded the streets of Mansour, an affluent neighborhood in
Baghdad.
“There were so many guys, from Kuwait, from Saudi Arabia, guys in the street with makeup,� said Mr.
Hili, who left Iraq in 2000. “Up until 1991, there was sexual freedom. It was a revolutionary time.�
Then came the Persian Gulf war, and afterward Saddam Hussein put an end to nightclubs. Iraq staggered
under the yoke of economic sanctions. While antigay laws were increasingly enforced, Mohammed and Mr.
Hili said they still felt safe. Homosexuality seemed accepted, as long as it was practiced in private. And even
when it was not tolerated, prison time could be evaded with a well-placed bribe.
The American invasion was expected to usher in better times.
“We thought that with the presence of Americans, life would become paradise, that Iraq would be
Westernized,� Mohammed said. “But unfortunately the way things were before was so much better
than where we are now.�
One night shortly after Saddam Hussein fell, American soldiers burst into the apartment that Mohammed
shared with his two brothers. They were looking for insurgents, but took one look at Mohammed, with his
long hair and shapely body wrapped in a robe, and teased him, he said.
“What are you, a lady man?� he remembered them barking. “A boy? Or a girl?� They turned to
one of Mohammed’s brothers, “Who is this?� they asked, “Your girlfriend?�
The news raced through Mohammed’s building. “All my neighbors came to know that I was gay,�
he said. “My brother said, ‘Mohammed, leave the house; you can’t live here anymore.’�
He rented another apartment, and was soon joined by some gay friends. They moved nine months later,
after suspicious neighbors began to talk. Nine months after that, they moved again. They came to rely on
remittances sent by Mr. Hili, who raises money for them in London.
Mr. Hili taps a network of acquaintances in Baghdad to ferret out safe houses, and pays extra for landlords
to alert him to possible trouble. He says he supports about 32 people.
Few work, though one of Mohammed’s roommates, Amjad, who is 33 and has manicured eyebrows
and feathered hair, said he sometimes sleeps with an older man for money. “He loves me, but I hate
him,� Amjad said. “He is jealous and ugly.�
One of Mohammed’s friends, a 25-year-old law student named Rafi, said he was especially desperate
to get out of Iraq. It is a sentiment shared by millions of Iraqis, but Rafi believes his future here is especially
bleak. The influence from Iran is growing, he said. And in Iran, homosexuality is often punishable by death.
“I want to get out, but not just out of Iraq, out of the Middle East,� Rafi said, “to a country that has
respect for human rights. And for us.�
He paused, casting his eyes downward. “It will never be possible here.�
La sombrÃa vida de los gays en el nuevo Irak
Por Cara Buckley
En una ciudad y un paÃs donde los forasteros son vistos de manera sospechosa y el llamar la atención
puede poner en riesgo la vida, Mohammed jamás pudo encajar, por más que hubiese querido.
Mohammed, de 37 años, ha sido abiertamente gay durante la mayor parte de su vida adulta. Para él,
esto significó dejar crecer su cabello y tomar estrógeno. En el pasado, según contó, esto no generaba
ningún peligro. Como se acostumbra en el Medio Oriente, los hombres siempre han sido muy afectuosos
entre sÃ.
Incluso, hasta no hace mucho tiempo atrás, Mohammed y muchos de sus amigos gays se permitÃan ir
más allá, ingresando en las casas de sus amantes durante la noche. Y, al menos hasta la invasión de
los Estados Unidos, la sociedad iraquà los habÃa aceptado tÃmidamente.
Ser abiertamente gay hoy en dÃa no es una opción en el nuevo Irak, donde el ascenso de la religión
extremista ha dejado a Mohammed y a sus amigos gays sintiéndose intensamente difamados,
discriminados y perseguidos.
En el mes de enero, un reporte de las Naciones Unidas describió la creciente persecución, tortura y
ejecución extrajudicial de gays y lesbianas iraquÃes. En el año 2005, el clérigo más respetado de Irak,
Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, emitió un decreto religioso que indicaba la ejecución de gays y lesbianas
"de la forma más severa y violenta posible".
Una año más tarde el decreto fue levantado, pero ni eso ni el reciente reflujo de violencia han logrado que
Mohammed o sus amigos se sintieran seguros. Ellos ansÃan abandonar Irak, pero no cuentan con el
dinero ni con las visas para lograrlo. Ellos estuvieron de acuerdo en ser entrevistados siempre y cuando
sus apellidos no fuesen publicados.
Ellos consiguieron refugio, escondidos tras gruesas cortinas, en una casa en el sudoeste de Baghdad.
Cinco personas comparten el apartamento; cuatro hombres gays y una mujer que se define como
bisexual. Ya han tenido que mudarse seis veces en los últimos tres años, escapando de los
escuadrones que los perseguÃan. Incluso los simples chismes de los vecinos los hacen sentirse
perseguidos y los empuja a mudarse.
"Logramos generar sospechas porque parecemos una célula terrorista" declaró Mohammed. "Pero no
podemos decirle a la gente lo que realmente somos. Una célula, si, pero de gays".
Ahora su cabello luce corto. Existen reportes de extremistas que han capturado a hombres de cabello largo
y los han obligado a cortárselo y a comérselo.
Es imposible saber cuantos hombres gays y mujeres lesbianas están siendo perseguidos en Irak
actualmente. De acuerdo a un grupo de derechos de los gays iraquÃes, dirigido por Ali Hili quien
actualmente vive en Londres, 400 personas han sido asesinadas desde el año 2003 por el simple hecho
de ser gays.
Comparados con los muchos miles de civiles y soldados muertos en guerra, el número es pequeño.
Pero para Hili, Mohammed y sus amigos, es un doloroso barómetro de cuánto han cambiado las polÃ
ticas de Irak en comparación con su secular pasado.
Por un breve perÃodo, desde mediados de los 80 hasta principios de los 90, se dice que la vida nocturna
de la comunidad gay habÃa florecido en Irak. Mientras que su vecino, Irán, se volvÃa más cerrado luego
de la revolución islámica del año 1979, Baghdad permitÃa una pequeña medida de liberación luego
de la guerra Irán-Irak.
Luego, llegó la Guerra del Golfo y Saddam Hussein le puso fin a la vida nocturna. Irak se tambaleaba bajo
el yugo de sanciones económicas. Mientras las leyes anti-gays comenzaban a ser sancionadas,
Mohammed y Hili aseguran que todavÃa se sentÃan seguros. La homosexualidad parecÃa ser aceptada,
siempre y cuando fuese practicada en privado. Incluso cuando no era tolerada, la condena a prisión podÃ
a ser evitada con un buen soborno.
La invasión norteamericana parecÃa que iba a traer aires de cambio positivos.
"Nosotros pensábamos que con la presencia de los norteamericanos, la vida iba a ser un paraÃso, que
Irak se iba a occidentalizar", aseguró Mohammed. "Pero, desafortunadamente, las cosas eran mucho
mejor antes a como son ahora".
Hili cuenta con una red de conocidos en Baghdad que lo ayudan a encontrar casas seguras para los
miembros de la comunidad gay y además, les paga extra a los propietarios para que lo alerten ante
cualquier amenaza. Hili asegura que actualmente se encuentra ayudando a 32 personas.
Algunos de ellos trabajan, aunque uno de los compañeros de Mohammed, Amjad, de 33 años, asegura
que algunas veces tiene sexo con un hombre mayor a cambio de dinero. "Él está enamorado de mi, pero
yo lo odio", confiesa Amjad. "Es celoso y muy desagradable".
Otro de los amigos de Mohammed, un estudiante de abogacÃa de 25 años de edad llamado Rafi,
asegura estar desesperado por escapar de Iraq. Este es un sentimiento compartido por millones de
iraquÃes, pero Rafi cree que su futuro aquà es particularmente sombrÃo. La influencia de Irán está
creciendo, asegura. Y en Irán, la homosexualidad suele ser castigada con la muerte.
"Me quiero ir, pero no solamente de Irak, sino de todo Medio Oriente", confesó Rafi. "Quiero vivir en un paÃ
s donde exista respeto por los Derechos Humanos y por nosotros. Eso nunca va a ser posible aquÃ
adentro".
© Traducción de Esteban Rico para SentidoG.com
Copyright © NYTimes, Sentidog.com & AMBIENTE MAGAZINE. Do not reproduce without citing this source.
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