Time to read: 9 minutes(s)

A 20-year-old resident of Kemerovo is leaving Russia with her partner, convinced she has no future in her home country. She finally made her decision when Russian authorities began passing laws infringing on the rights of LGBTQ individuals.

"I was always a good worker and quickly advanced my career. However, when the company's founder found out I was attracted to women, I started having problems and eventually had to quit," Slava, a Kemerovo resident, told NeMoskva (her name has been changed at her request due to potential safety concerns). She said she tolerated humiliation and bullying from her manager for as long as she could.

Slava is twenty. Despite her young age, she's already made a career for herself. Straight out of school, she joined one of Kemerovo's most popular coffee shops as a barista, and soon rose to the position of manager. This recent high school graduate supervised over a dozen people. Until then, the business owners hadn't had any complaints about Slava's performance.

"We managed to get things going well, and the team atmosphere was good. The guys tried to help each other both at work and in life. And everything would have been fine, I guess, if a former close friend of mine hadn't accidentally wandered into the coffee shop one day. I couldn't hide my emotions at one point, and one of the coworkers noticed. The guy later asked, 'What was that? Did you sleep with her? Are you a lesbian?' I didn't deny the obvious and confessed. Of course, I did it in secret, asking him not to tell anyone," Slava says.

The colleague promised to keep the secret, but soon after, Slava was summoned to the director's office under the pretext of a work-related matter. That's when it all began.

As the girl recalls, her boss "hesitated for a long time," and then asked point blank, "Do you like girls?" Slava said it had nothing to do with her job responsibilities, but she didn't deny her sexual orientation.

"I basically didn't understand why it mattered to a stranger. I don't even really discuss it with my parents. And here it was just a colleague. I said, of course, that I was attracted to women. But the director—it's almost funny to say—began convincing me that I just needed to try sex with a 'normal man, then all this nonsense would go away.' I absolutely hate conflict, so I didn't argue much and simply listened to her point of view. However, the director eventually resorted to yelling. So I simply left and continued with work. About an hour later, she came out of the office, came up to me, apologized, and said she was wrong and wouldn't discuss my personal life with me anymore," says Slava.

In reality, the director didn't keep her promise, and Slava's homosexuality was a constant topic of conversation, constantly causing emotional distress. This is precisely why Slava ultimately quit, even though, as the Kemerovo resident herself claims, she really enjoyed her job.

"From early childhood, I felt like something was different about me, unlike most people around me. Girls liked boys, and boys liked girls. But I remember feeling very warm feelings for my girlfriend when I was about five. But I didn't understand what exactly. I finally realized I was gay at 14. This led to numerous humiliations at school, even though I never advertised my preference," Slava recalls.

She says her classmates would lock her in the school bathroom or give her a "dark room." They would also write insulting comments about her on the chalkboard. The teachers, as usual, saw all this but chose to ignore the problem.

"Ever since school, it's been really hard for me to talk honestly about my personal life with others. Firstly, there's the fear that people will treat me and the person I'm with badly. Secondly, in recent years, it's become truly dangerous. The level of intolerance is growing at an alarming rate. Plus, the new laws the Russian authorities are passing put me and people like me on the same level as criminals. That's why I've always avoided LGBTQ groups, trying to completely isolate myself in some kind of safe personal cocoon. But, alas, that's simply impossible. Someone will always see something, notice something. And that becomes a real danger, which means you're forced to live in constant fear," Slava shares her worries.

While Slava mentions "LGBTQ hangouts" and her avoidance of them, she nonetheless names a few. Specifically, in Kemerovo, she says, homosexual teenagers gather in a park in the city center. Another similar hangout is located next to the once-popular Kuzbass Hotel on Vesennaya, the city's main promenade. However, Slava claims that it's mostly "gays who come here to make a buck from visitors looking for a special kind of entertainment."

"None of this is for me. I have a girlfriend now. We want the same things. First, to stop being afraid. And the feeling of danger is something constant, impossible to hide from. You see, I have to tell everyone that I share an apartment with my friend to cut down on utilities, and not at all because I love her. And it's really hard. Second, I don't want to hide my relationship at all. I want to start a family, have a child or raise an adopted child. In Russia, this is already impossible, and soon, I'm sure, our life will become many times worse. So we decided together that by the next school year we'll move to Europe, to France, to go to university and start building our lives away from Russia," Slava reasons.

Slava and her friend have it easier than many in their situation: both girls have the support of their parents. They know about their daughters' sexual orientation and help them as much as possible.

Kirill, a 38-year-old Kemerovo resident, fled his homeland shortly after the Russian army's invasion of Ukraine. Before, it was small, and now it's large. The reasons are the same: the level of societal rejection of LGBTQ individuals and the attack on a neighboring country, which, he believes, has already led to catastrophic consequences in Russia itself.

"The authorities are currently fueling hatred within society itself, and we—LGBTQ representatives—are a convenient target. There have always been idiots. And before, someone would round up young guys and beat them up for being gay. Many simply couldn't fight back. But those were isolated incidents. Now, the government is inciting the average person, one way or another, to expose the enemy 'within.' It's as if gays are to blame for everything. I can't watch this, and I don't want to. And I especially don't want to become an unwitting victim of this hatred," says Kirill.

He currently lives in Buenos Aires, where he moved from Moscow. In the Russian capital, Kirill worked in the fashion industry. And despite the fact that this industry is generally considered to be rich in LGBTQ people, he recalls that even in his company, being gay wasn't easy.

"I've never been open about my sexual preferences. But there were guys who were, let's say, more outspoken. And the company's management would dish dirt on them. Publicly. Although, as far as I know, one of the directors was also gay. Most likely, this official stance of intolerance is an attempt to cover up, to remove the "scandalous" aspect for representatives of various government agencies with whom we had to work quite extensively. So that "nobody would gossip about us" and the LGBTQ component wouldn't interfere with business," Kirill reasons.

It turns out that, having left provincial Kemerovo in the hope of “greater freedom” in Moscow, he became convinced that he had not gone far enough, that “in Russia, there is no freedom for gays, in particular, and there cannot be.”

"You see, it's not that important to me to be able to publicly declare my homosexuality. But being constantly afraid, feeling cornered, and constantly having to control my behavior and words—it's incredibly exhausting. So I decided to change everything completely. But I needed a kick in the pants to get going. When the war started, I finally realized I didn't want to and couldn't live in Russia anymore," says Kirill.

When choosing a country to move to, I settled on Argentina. This is largely because emigrating here is one of the easiest. Simply enter as a tourist and then declare your intention to stay. Then comes the paperwork and waiting for a positive decision. And, of course, there are certain expenses—several thousand dollars—necessary for intermediary services and government fees.

"It was difficult at first. And that was expected. I'm an adult, so I had no illusions. Now, a few months later, everything has become more or less clear. I trained as a massage therapist back in Russia. It's a job in high demand here. I first got a job at one massage parlor, then at another. I've gotten the hang of it, so to speak. Basically, my income is enough for the bare necessities: rent, food. There's even some left over for entertainment. Especially since I live alone now, I don't need much. But I've gained a sense of confidence and security in my life. Probably for the first time in many years. And this only became possible after leaving Russia," Kirill concludes.

He is confident that he will not return to his homeland: “I don’t believe that the country itself and the people in it can change enough for me to even think about returning.”

The number of Russian citizens leaving the country has increased rapidly since the outbreak of the war in Ukraine. The main reasons are the war and mobilization. According to various estimates, by the end of 2022, between half a million and a million people had left the country. Last year, approximately 155 Russian citizens received temporary residence permits, and another 15 Russians applied for political asylum in EU countries. This includes cases of persecution based on sexual orientation. The reason is the ever-increasing repression of Russian legislation against LGBTQ individuals.

LGBTQ people don't always succeed in gaining a foothold in the European Union. For example, Thomas Deverell, an LGBTQ activist from St. Petersburg who fled to Sweden, was initially denied asylum by the country's authorities. They failed to appreciate the credibility of the threat. The refusal document advised the Russian citizen: "If the police were unable to assist... (it is necessary – editor's note) to contact higher authorities (in Russia – editor's note)."

However, he later succeeded in obtaining a review of his case, a final decision on which has not yet been made. Devarell's appeal is still pending. He stated that one of the problems that needs to be addressed in the European Union is that "in Russia, homophobia comes not only from ordinary people, but also from the authorities."

Evidence of this is the systematic tightening of anti-LGBTQ legislation in the Russian Federation. In fact, at least two changes have been made in this area in recent months alone.
Late last year, Russian President Vladimir Putin signed a law completely banning LGBTQ propaganda. In June 2023, the State Duma passed the first reading of a law banning "gender reassignment."

Russian lawmakers have prescribed severe penalties for violations in this area. Suffice it to say that those found guilty of promoting "non-traditional" relationships or gender reassignment face a fine of up to 10 million rubles. Given the potential for a broad interpretation of the concept of "propaganda" in this area, virtually any Russian citizen with even the slightest connection to the LGBT community could be at risk under the new laws.

Slava and her friend aren't daunted by the challenges of relocation. They managed to establish contacts with a university in Grenoble, discussing with its representatives the conditions for admission and accommodation in student dormitories, as well as the possibility of obtaining a student visa. This document will initially allow the Kemerovo girls to legally reside in the European Union for the duration of their studies.

— The visa allows you to stay in France for three years—that's how long a bachelor's degree lasts. Essentially, all the issues related to the move are practically resolved. We've found potential employment opportunities after the move. It's clear that you'll need to work even while studying at university. Speaking of the financial side of the move, we already have some savings. Plus, my girlfriend currently earns a good income. I was temporarily unemployed after getting laid off from my job at the coffee shop. Now I've found a decent job with a decent salary. In short, we're getting ready to leave as soon as possible. Here in Russia, and especially in Kemerovo, there's nothing for us to do. I understand perfectly well that many problems await us in France, but they will be of a completely different nature. And most importantly, there will be hope for a normal life without fear for personal safety and constant harassment. “It’s better now, when we’re 20 years old, to face temporary difficulties than later—say, at 30—to realize that we don’t have the strength to live in Russia and leave the country anyway,” Slava shares his plans.

She dreams of becoming an art historian, and her friend dreams of becoming a videographer. Both are confident they'll succeed. They've learned French to a level that allows them to attend university. For Slava, it's already her second European language—she can communicate fluently in Czech.

Sexual orientation is a given. It's impossible to change. And leaving a country that doesn't accept you for who you are is still an option. This simple thought is now becoming a motivator for many to change their ways.