Queer love and death in the Gaza Strip
On Oct. 7, Hamas terrorists led a surprise attack on Israel, killing over 1,400 people and starting the 2023 Israel-Hamas war. With Israel engaged in a ground invasion into the Gaza Strip, there is now an extraordinary humanitarian crisis in that area that appears to have no end in sight.
How many thousands of people will be killed before this latest round of violence is all over remains to be seen.
Meanwhile anti-semitism and islamophobia are on the rise globally. Watching a mob in Russia’s Dagestan airport storming a plane arriving from Tel Aviv looking for Jews feels like watching the lead up to the Holocaust play out exactly like it did in Nazi Germany.
While I believe that Palestinian civilians do not deserve the unfolding humanitarian crisis that they now must endure, I do not know what the solution is. Hamas is a terrorist organization that needs to be eliminated and no war can be fought without resulting in civilian casualties.
In Gaza currently under Hamas rule, male-male same sex relationships are outlawed and LGBTQ rights are virtually non-existent.
I recently discovered Queering the Map thanks to a Time Magazine article. It helps provide some insight into what it’s like being a queer Palestinian in the Gaza Strip.
Queering the Map was created in 2017 by Lucas LaRochelle and allows people to pin memories onto a world map of their own queer experiences. The site is moderated, and looking through the pins paints a complicated picture of what it’s like to be queer in the Gaza Strip.
Some of the pins are generic or say simple things like “I’m fruity” or “Free Palestine.”
One pin near Khan Yunis says, “Pls know despite what the media says there are gay Palestinians. We are here, we are queer. Free Palestine.”
Another pin states, “The first boy I ever kissed lived here. His cousin found out and tried to stab me. I haven’t been back since.”
A particularly heartbreaking pin near Sheikh Za’id says, “Idk how long I will live so I just want this to be my memory here before I die. I am not going to leave my home, come what may. My biggest regret is not kissing this one guy. He died two days back. We had told how much we like each other and I was too shy to kiss last time. He died in the bombing. I think a big part of me died too. And soon I will be dead. To younus, i will kiss you in heaven.”
A less tragic pin near the coast of Gaza states, “A place were I kissed my first crash. Being gay in Gaza is hard but somehow it was fun. I made out with a lot of boys in my neighborhood. I thought everyone is gay to some level.”
Nearby another pin states, “Here was our first date, we sat talked about our childhood, queer culture, food and bagpipes.”
A flippant pin near Deir al Balah states, “Hey gaza is full of LgBTq. We stan the lezbos”
One pin near Juhor ad Dik appears to have been written by someone who is no longer living in Gaza and says, “This is where I first fell for you. It was 2021, the last major Israeli bombardment on Gaza. You never knew you were the reason that I first listened to my favorite bands or watched Portrait of a Lady on Fire. everything comes back to you. now you are a student abroad and Israeli occupation bombs may take everyone and everything you ever loved away. Your mom, your home, your memories. I am so sorry the world failed you. that your mom, sister, best friends, everything is lost in this genocide.”
I share these anecdotes and stories not because I think they can stop bombs or deter the ongoing horror, but because right now the most important thing we can be doing is emphasizing our shared humanity.
Photos caption: Screenshot of Gaza strip from Queering the Map https://www.queeringthemap.com/
Write to Jeremy Redlien at Jeremy.redlien@mnsu.edu